Tying Shoelaces

Everyone wears shoes. At least everyone living in the fast-paced hub we call Singapore. Wearing shoes is one thing – tying shoelaces together is another. And tying shoelaces, I must say, is something that is equivalent to Singapore winning the World Cup, at least for me.

Since the day I started wearing shoes, the shoes were fitted in and then tied by my mother. This was a scene I always saw, me sitting on the red stool situated outside my house, and my mum kneeling in front of me, fingers as quick as lightning, tying the shoelaces as if she were doing another daily chore, like tying up the entrance of the garbage bag. This went on of years, and soon I could memorize all the steps needed to eat my breakfast, pack up my bag, put on my shoes, and get out of the house.

Except the part where I tie my shoelaces.

My attempts to tie these white strings together were futile, and my inability to tie them together was even more embarrassing.

I remember those times in shopping centres, where those two long pieces of cloth refused to hold on to one another. I had to face two embarrassing moments; the first would be to trip and fall, and the second would be too wait for my mum to tie my shoelaces for me.

And the problem? It was all done in public.

I remember those moments, where upon realizing my laces were loose, I would proceed to shuffle to the nearest toilet or pillar, and repeat the process of failing to tie those shoelaces. I tried many different knots, so many that I think those scouts would have been shamed when they had seen me, all crunched up and sweaty with the attempts, which should have, by then, numbered to a hundred.

That time, I was eleven, a primary school child who saw all his peers tying shoelaces with ease.

It became a personal goal. I chose a day, and decided it would be the day I could simply bend down, move my fingers over those strings, and voila! My shoes would then be smiling at my accomplishment. I would be beaming with joy, those shoelaces finally under my hand, under my control.

I summoned my mother, and in a straight and strict voice I said, "Mum, I am going to learn how to tie my shoelaces by today. If you don't teach me, I shall commit suicide." (In primary school the words 'committing suicide' seemed to be an excellent threat, and it was actually the 'in-thing' in those days)

"Why do you make such a sudden request?"

"Never mind about that, I want you to teach me, otherwise…I'll commit suicide!"

And so the tired mum brought me outside the house and placed me on the same red stool. She took those shoes out again, the very same shoes I vowed that I would someday force into submission. I slipped my feet quietly with anticipation, and prepared myself for the quest I was about to undertake.

"Ok first, you turn the shoelaces like this."

Within seconds, the first part of tying shoelaces was over. Her hands moved with such dexterity that I was able to see nothing but a blur of beige over a patch of white.

"Huh? Huh! Wait I didn't see a single thing! How do you expect me to tie shoelaces! Can you do it again or not?" Fragments of the famed Singaporean-English (also known as Singlish) started to crawl out of my mouth, and this young face was screwed with frustration.

"Ok I shall do it again. If you don't look carefully, I will stop teaching you."

My eyes focused very clearly on the shoelaces, and my brain was throbbing hard. I soon realized that my hands were clutched very tightly against the skin of my lap, and I released them. I readied myself for the sudden movement of beige again.

I blinked. Opening your eyes wide out for a long time hurt. I stared back at my feet, preparing for her second attempt at teaching me the first part of tying shoelaces.

But all I saw was the finished product, the final product. Those shoelaces were already in place, and I could almost hear the smirking of these shoes. When I looked up, my mum had already left for her kitchen, where she would prepare dinner.

"Mum! Why are you leaving so quickly? I have yet to finish learning how to tie my shoelaces!" I sputtered. Controlling one's speech when one was extremely agitated was very difficukt.

"But you clearly didn't want to listen." My mother replied.

"Aren't you afraid I would commit suicide?"

"Go, lah."

I turned my head towards the window, and thinking about what was below had me shuddering.

A few months had passed, and still my fingers never learnt the art of tying my own shoelaces. But I never gave up. Over these few months I would continue trying, with determination enough yet to put the scouts to shame. I would succeed.

I did learn how to tie my shoelaces finally, at the most unlikely place though - it was in Slovenia, Italy, and I was there for a music trip.

I was alone in the hotel room, and I looked at those same pair of shoes. I pulled those shoes towards me as I had done over the past few months. I slipped my feet in, once again with quiet anticipation, ready to undertake this same quest that I had repeated a hundred times previously.

My fingers moved with care and delicateness, working on bringing these two strings together all by myself. I held my breath, going through every step with excitement, and yet fear, fear that I would fail once again, like I had done before. I slipped the final knot in.

And there it was! My heart lifted, and I looked back at my shoes, albeit with shoelaces tied. I did it.

Without anyone's help.

It was one of the best and most precious moments of my short life. Singapore had won the World Cup, and I had tied my shoelaces!