Commonwealth Games reporter Jack Tame is now travelling in India, where an unusual advertisement catches his eye.
Of the many physical attributes I have not been blessed with in life, an attractive pair of feet is high on the list.
To be honest, the whole concept of good-looking feet seems a rather disgusting oxymoron and I've never quite understood how anyone could get their kicks, so to speak, from another person's pair. Still, let me assure you, my decaying, stinking trudge stumps are particularly offensive.
Walking through the old town of India's beautiful Udaipur (in neat shoes and socks, I might add - my feet are not the kind to be shown off in sandals!) I was caught by an advertisement above the busy street.
The battered sign advertised a variety of fortune-telling experiences - palm reading, face reading, card reading, etc. The sign was like many you see throughout India, except for one, hand-painted line.
"Foot Reading" it said.
Hmm. That'll be an experience.
I should point out that I am a journalist which almost inherently means I am also a cynic. This, however, is not a debate over the merits and accuracies of fortune-telling, it is merely an experience I shared with an elderly Indian man in his family home three stories above Southern Rajasthan.
The man has a wispy dark moustache and rather large circle-framed glasses. I guess I'd put him at 60. He seemed surprised to see me when I clambered up his stairs, but quickly ushered his daughter and wife into another room, and seated me in their lounge for the reading.
The poor guy. As I peeled off my socks I could feel them clinging with sweat. Keep in mind it was 35C outside, I'd been walking for an hour and had just eaten a particularly fiery samosa. I wriggled my toes back and forth a little, feeling a bit self-conscious and more than aware that I could have lint stuck in my toe pits.
"Put feet here," he said, and pushed a small plastic table towards me. I obliged.
He pulled my heels together. He leaned forward and softly clasped my shins, and ran his hands down my limbs. His fingers ran right over the mosquito bite on my ankle, right over my rugby sprig scar, right down to the toes whose nails so often become ingrown. Eurgh.
His pupils widened.
"What wrong with big toe?"
That didn't take him long. Yep, that's the old bung toe, the one I broke playing football and never got fixed. It's an awful sight.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
He leant closer. He ran his finger up from the base of my heel, through that soft fleshy bit on the underside of a foot. It tickled and I wanted to giggle, but I kept perfectly straight-faced.
"Bent toes."
Yep, that's the old webbed toes there. Had them for years, not much I can do about it, but cheers for pointing that out all the same.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
Then his face startled. He pulled back and sat up dead straight.
"Why is foot yellow?"
"I'm sorry, ahhh, what?" Even I was shocked with this one.
"Foot is yellow. Why is foot yellow?"
"Hmm, umm, wow, I'm really lost for words. Um. I'm sorry? Ah yeah I really have no answer for that. Do you want me to take my feet off your table?"
The man didn't answer. He looked perplexed. I felt embarrassed. This was a bad idea.
Stoically, he continued. He squinted at the bottom side of my foot, then removed his glasses and sat back to reflect. After a few seconds he took his pencil and with the blunt end started prodding in between the pads of my toes. I felt a bit weird and more than a bit sorry for him. At least I didn't have a veruca.
After nine full minutes it ended, the man left the room to wash his hands. I bet the steel wool got a hammering.
He returned, and sat down to give me the news. He let me take a photo with him, although he understandably refused to be pictured with my feet. He'd had more than enough.
It was truly quite astounding what the man could predict after nine minutes with my feet. To be honest, I was just pleased to hear it wasn't Armageddon. Though the results and his predictions are consequential only to me, in fairness, the news was all good.
Maybe it was the smell. Maybe it was the series of gross physical abnormalities. Maybe it was the 200 rupees I promised him from the start.
Still, just to be safe, if you've got an infected toenail, athlete's foot or even an oversized carnivorous corn, don't rush to the doctors.
Let it stand awhile - it might bring you good luck.
Read more Delhi and India articles here .
World News Video
-
Dangerous rush to Everest summit (1:59)
-
Dozens killed in Syrian massacre (2:09)
-
'King of Romance' competes in Eurovision (1:46)
