The first step is the hardest, they say. It takes a human infant a whole year to quit its quadruped days and attempt that first tottering step under the adoring gaze of its parents. There is no respite thereafter. Life becomes a series of steps and missteps, with a watchful, (and not always adoring) eye tracking every step you take.

Though I do not remember my first step, I have a sneaking suspicion that I started off on the wrong foot—whichever that may be. For the act of placing one foot in front of the other has been fraught with challenges at every step. here’s the story—step-by-step.

slow and steady…

It all started with a fable. My family believed in instilling values into us at a young age. Fables, with morals appended at no extra cost, were favourites. Like the legendary race between the hare and the tortoise. The moral was succinct and simple. Slow and steady was the strategy to success! Being young and impressionable, I took the moral to heart. And put it into practice at the first school race I entered. I didn’t win. Heartbroken, I turned a cynic at the tender age of six, and have remained one ever since. Such is the life-changing power of fables!

There were more troubles to follow. A step wasn’t just a carefree step. Nor a jaunty hop, skip, or jump either. Each run, sprint, jog and march was guided by regimented rules of technique, timing and trajectory. Take the march and its sub-categories—the slow march, the quick march, and march-in-place. Each required a different technique—how high to raise your knees, whether to let your toes or heels to be the first to touch base; and a different rhythm. And all the time, there was someone tracking every step with the constant barked exhortations of “keep in step”!

Dance class was even more bewildering. Between the intricacies of 2-step, quickstep, the box-step; I found myself dragging my feet, stepping on others’ toes or simply shuffling my two left feet. As for the complicated foxtrot, why, having evolved to be humans, would one want to dance in the manner of foxes? Dancing to the tune of other humans was baffling enough!

Taking a step back

And so I stepped into adulthood slightly out of step; but determined to keep moving ahead. Till I learnt of the great advantages of walking backwards—benefits which range all the way from the feet to the frontal lobe. Always ready to fall in step with new trends, I took a few tentative steps back. It was a little disorienting and puzzling, and I keenly felt the absence of rear-view vision. In trying to keep up with others, I stepped up my pace, but instead found myself falling further and further behind those who were walking the usual way—forwards. Was it, I wondered, a step in the right direction?

I do have to admit that it kept my brain on its toes, for I found myself musing about matters of grave philosophical and existential import. Here’s a sample. ‘If one kept walking backwards, would one step back in time?’ ‘Would a step back effectively cancel out a step forwards, mathematically speaking?’ Further, as I had to side-step nimbly to avoid bumping into others, I wondered if walking sideways ( à la a crab) came with even greater benefits. Further research was definitely called for. After all, crabs have a great evolutionary history.

Making each step count

I decided to retrace my steps homewards, wondering if my brain would be able to map the route in reverse. A genuine concern, since we have outsourced so much of the brain’s function to smartphones and smartwatches. Which is why we need to exercise it—by walking backwards. Quite the chicken and egg conundrum, isn’t it?

However, there’s no going back. We have willingly shackled our wrists to smartwatches which count our heartbeats, measure our strides, compute our calories and monitor our sleep. Our morning walks are no longer about the pleasure of feeling the cool breeze, listening to the warbling birds or encountering a new wildflower! It has been reduced to a mere number, with gadgets counting every step. Could we not flip the sentence, and make every step count instead?

the final step

I reflect on my journey of six decades which started with that very first step and will end at death’s doorstep. There is no stopping. But neither do I need to hurry along. I can take it slow and steady. Just as in the fable.