It was a rainy morning. Water covered every path, every street...puddles turning into little lakes under the grey skies. My white slippers kept slipping into the mud again and again, and it was really starting to get on my nerves. Still, carefully stepping around puddles, I finally reached school. The prayer had already begun, and students were standing neatly in their lines. I quickly found the Standard 4 line and joined in.
Just as I started to settle, a burst of giggles caught my attention. A few girls ahead of me were whispering and laughing with excitement. Curious, I tilted slightly to listen. That’s when I heard,someone in our class had come wearing a new pair of sandals. And not just any sandals... "The Rainy Princess Sandals" the kind that didn’t get soaked in the rain. Magical, right? I mean, how could rubber and glitter suddenly make someone the centre of the universe?
Everyone was talking about them, and I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking a peek. And there they were shining quietly through the prayer line...light pink, glittery sandals, glistening like frozen jelly or something straight out of a fairytale. They looked too beautiful to belong to the ground. For a moment, I just stared. How can someone wear something so pretty on their feet?
The girl wearing them had soft, fair feet. The sandals sparkled with tiny glitters trapped inside a pink, transparent layer...like little bubbles of light frozen in time. They looked like something a fairy would wear to dance in the rain. But before that wonder could settle, her eyes met mine and I froze. Of course. It was Rani !! the one girl who never missed a chance to make me feel like a walking disaster. She didn’t like me, not even a little. And like always, her eyes narrowed, and the taunts began again.
Rani, our class monitor, the self-declared queen of fourth grade. She believed she was the prettiest, the fittest, the kindest (in her own twisted mirror maybe). And me? I had always been the chubby one. The one whose school belt never fit, no matter how hard I tried. But still, every day during morning checks, I forced myself to wear it just so Rani wouldn’t drag me to the class teacher. She did, anyway. Every single day. Like it was her divine duty.
Eventually, my father complained, and only then did the teacher realize my belt was too small to begin with. Surprise, surprise. But Rani didn’t stop. Even when the teacher scolded her and asked her to focus on others, she found new ways to humiliate me. Now, instead of dragging me to the teacher, she made me stand out of the line and do twenty sit-ups as punishment. “The teacher told me to,” she would lie with a smirk and I did as she said. Because, well, that’s what you do when your bully comes with a fake badge of power and an annoying grin.
Every little thing became a reason for her jokes ,my weight, my short nails, my unpressed uniform, my untied hair, my awkward eating, even the fact that I had no close friends. She made a show out of everything. Seriously, I was practically her personal sitcom.
Each month, she brought something new fancy pencil boxes, colorful hairbands, socks, ribbons, and now, The Rainy Princess Sandals. She wore them like a royal heirloom. She was from one of those big family branches,kind of a distant cousin, technically related, but more like a limited-edition headache. Her aunt was married into a rich family, and every month, she sent over things her daughter no longer used. Rani brought them to school like treasures and displayed them like awards she’d earned herself. Honestly, I half-expected her to charge us an entry fee just to look at them.
Many times, I wanted to speak up. To tell everyone that those things weren’t even hers. But I was scared. Her nails were long and sharp. Once, when I tried, she dragged me into a bathroom corner and pressed her nails into my hand until it hurt. My nails never grew another thing she teased me for. So, I stayed quiet. Because sometimes, silence feels safer.
After the prayer ended, I did my usual twenty sit-ups...thanks to Rani’s personal mission to make me fitter, apparently. Then I quietly walked to Standard 4-D.
Up to Standard 4, our school didn’t include shoes as part of the uniform. So, we kids would leave our muddy slippers or sandals neatly outside the classroom, like some sacred ritual, before going in barefoot. And I, completely unaware of how emotionally disastrous that half-day was going to be, did the same.
There were four classes before the recess bell. The rain kept pouring, turning the world outside into a blur of greys and blues. The skies looked angry, almost like they were in a mood to shout but all we got was thunder rumbling like someone whispering gossip too loudly. There was this strange chill in the air, a kind of cold that made you want to hug your own arms, even though you were indoors.
Rani sat in the first row, obviously. She always did. Queen’s throne, front and centre. I was in the second row, directly behind her a front-row seat to her ongoing performance.
After every single period, like clockwork, she’d rush to the door to check on her sandals. You know, just in case they started floating away like little fairy boats. She didn’t care about getting drenched herself. No no, the feet could get wet, the uniform could soak through but The Rainy Princess Sandals? Never. She’d heroically wade through the puddle-filled corridor, bring her precious sandals back to safety, and then return to class, her hair dripping, her pride untouched.
Then she'd start narrating. “You guys won't believe what just happened,” she’d say with that fake gasp. Apparently, the sandals had almost drowned. What a tragedy that would’ve been.
Her best friend, sitting beside her, asked with wide eyes, “Where did you get them from? I want the same ones. I’ll tell my papa to buy them for me!”
Rani tossed her wet hair dramatically over her shoulder like those actresses in shampoo ads who’ve never seen real humidity and said, “These? My bua got them from Kolkata. Specially ordered. You can’t find them here. They’re very, very expensive. I don’t think just anyone can wear them.”
Just anyone, huh? How sweet of her to gatekeep glittery footwear like it was royal property.
The moment she said that, her friend’s face dropped. You could almost hear the crack in her little heart. I felt bad for her. But then again, I was used to being made to feel like less for not having fancy things, for not being in on the latest trends, for just… being me.
Meanwhile, her taunts toward me never really took a break. It was a full-time job for her. But the real punch in the gut came during the last period before recess. It was supposed to be English...my favourite subject and my favourite teacher. But because of the heavy rain, she couldn’t make it to school.
And just like that, our PT sir walked in to take over. Yep, the same sir who had two modes...ignore or snore. The entire class practically took that as a signal to sleep with their eyes open. I remember staring at the chalkboard, half-listening to sir mumble something about exercise and discipline, while Rani continued polishing her sandals with her handkerchief like she was preparing them for a red carpet.
I sat behind her, quiet. Watching. Listening. Trying to make myself invisible.
PT Sir had fallen asleep. Yes, during class. And that's when things got worse..far worse than I could have handled at that age.
It started slowly. A few snickers. A few whispery giggles behind palms. Then it spread like a fire in a dry forest. Laughter. Loud, cruel, and directed at me. They began shouting my name, cracking jokes, pulling faces, and doing everything they could to turn me into a living cartoon in that moment. It was loud enough to wake the dead! well, in this case, just our sleepy PT Sir.
He stirred, blinking, annoyed. “What’s all this noise?” he grunted, still groggy. Rani, ever the clever fox, stood up and pointed in my direction, her voice syrupy with fake innocence: “Sir, this girl’s making all the noise.”
Me. The girl who had never even had a friend in class. The girl who barely spoke, even when spoken to. Me...the ghost of Standard 4. PT Sir looked at me, trying to remember if he had ever heard me speak, ever seen me raise my hand, laugh, or interrupt. Something didn’t add up for him but instead of asking questions, he scolded everyone and promptly went back to sleep.
That day, i felt a sting in my chest. That strange mix of frustration and sadness that makes your throat heavy.I was hurt. I was angry. And more than anything.I was tired.
Why does this always happen to me?
Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them. I knew if anyone saw me cry, it would be worse. So I quickly told Sir I needed to use the bathroom. Still half-asleep, he waved me off, not even noticing the light drizzle still falling outside.
I ran. Straight toward the bathroom.
Two other girls from my class had gone there as well.I rushed into my usual stall and slammed the door shut behind me. Finally, silence. The bathroom smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned since the beginning of time, but it was better than breaking down in front of everyone. I just wanted to cry in peace. The smell made it hard, but I waited.
I stayed until I was sure the girls were gone.They went in, did their thing, and left . I cried for a minute,I guess.I splashed water on my face, took a deep breath, and stepped back outside. I slowly walked to the spot where we'd left our slippers.
All the chappals had been left in three neat rows outside the class, arranged on a muddy, uneven patch of ground. Some had floated away in the waterlogged field...cheap sponge soles bobbing around like lost boats. But on a single, proud red brick, sat The Rainy Princess Sandals, perched on top of a now-soggy white paper. The label, once so pristine, was practically melting but the sandals? They still looked like royalty. As if they knew they were special.
And something… snapped.
I don’t know what came over me. I picked them up those soft, shimmering, pink little liars and ran.
The back of the bathroom had a partial roof, and beyond it were three stalls. Between the washing area and the wall stood a massive divider, and just two inches away, another one because someone’s home stood right behind our school. In that quiet, half-forgotten space, I took off my slippers and slipped into The Rainy Princess Sandals.
They were soft. Gentle. Too small for my wide feet. And they didn’t look right on me at all. But they felt perfect.
Maybe for the first time in weeks, I smiled.
We...me and the sandals...had a moment. A short, peaceful escape. No voices. No taunts. Just the faint tapping of rain, and me, dancing on dirty bathroom tiles like some rain fairy who’d lost her way.
No one came to check on me. Not even PT Sir... The rain had kept all the kids from using the bathroom, so I had the kingdom all to myself.
But even in that moment, I knew something these sandals weren’t meant to be with me. They weren’t mine. They belonged to someone else’s story. Someone who knows no manners.
I walked to the far end of the wall..what we used to call the black hole. It was a tiny gap between two walls, and legend had it that whatever you threw in there… never came back.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.
I took one sandal and dropped it into the gap.
No grand speech. No music.
The recess bell rang, and by then, the rain had slowed down. All the kids ran out like prisoners escaping from jail..finally free. Even PT Sir got up, rubbing his eyes, walking slowly like he’d just won a marathon in his dream and was now off to collect his medal… except instead of a medal, he had the attendance register in hand.
I headed home for lunch. I don’t even remember what I was thinking. Something inside felt off, like a knot that wouldn’t untie, but I ignored it and walked away.
When I returned…
She..Rani had already gathered the entire teacher council around her, sobbing loudly and making a dramatic scene, like someone had stolen her whole world. But me? I was strangely calm. Mysteriously quiet. Like one of those expressionless characters in suspense films who always knows more than they say. And weirdly… I liked it. I kind of enjoyed it. The feeling didn’t last too long though..maybe two minutes?
Recess was over.
Three more periods remained till 4 PM. And she? She and her two besties,including PT Sir were flipping the school upside down. They checked every classroom, corridor, nook and corner. I sat in my seat, quietly watching her rush around like someone had kidnapped her imaginary crown. For a second, I thought I should go return the sandals. I even tried.
I went back to the bathroom and stood near the place where I’d thrown them into the small gap between the two walls we called “the black hole.” But the thing with black holes is… nothing ever really comes back from them. Not even regret.
And yet, seeing her cry like that helpless, desperate ,I don’t know why, but it hurt. This was the same girl who humiliated me every day. And yet, in that moment, something in me cracked. On the way home, my heart felt heavier than usual.
Somewhere deep down, I realized that being bullied by her felt better than seeing her like this.
Anyway… that chapter ended right there.
But what stayed with me,what I truly learned that day...was this: when you act out of anger or impulse, no one wins. No one. Not even the sandals...those beautiful, delicate Rainy Princess Sandals. They deserved to be out in the world, admired, shown off, sparkled at. Instead, they vanished into oblivion.
Rani cried.
And me? I carry the guilt even today.
Years later, when we grew up and met again after a long time, it felt… surprisingly nice. She’d changed..maybe not too much..but a little. Enough. She even invited me to her birthday party. I thought, maybe this time, I could do something good. So I bought her a pretty, slightly expensive pair of light pink heels.
She looked at them and said, “Hey… don’t these look exactly like those princess shoes? You know, the ones that floated away in the rain that day?”
