“For husband and shoes, one should look for comfort rather than style.” It’s a sharp one-liner from legendary actress Sharmila Tagore that I still remember, even though I read it decades ago. It was published in the now-defunct ‘The Illustrated Weekly of India’, a highly popular magazine during my growing-up days. Back then, as a dreamy-eyed teenager, I was charmed by the tall, dark and handsome heroes of Mills and Boon novels, even though they were arrogant, rude and often cold and distant. Smitten as I was by these heroes, I found her statement absurd and her advice rather strange.
At that time, I could hardly appreciate the quiet wisdom in her advice, but now I do. Five decades later, the truth of her sentiment rings clear; for both husbands and shoes, it is not fleeting style but comfort that truly carries you through life with ease. What you wear on your feet and the person with whom you spend your life ought to be comfortable. It is the quiet dependability that truly matters. A nagging spouse and pinching shoes are a relentless torture.
That stylish pair – a glossy stiletto or a pointed, trendy leather boot might catch your eye. You feel confident and chic wearing them, but after a while, if they begin to pinch your toes or rub your heel raw, the style loses all its appeal. Now, all you can think about is kicking them off.
Sure, footwear should ideally be cozy and chic, but if you have to choose, comfort must be the absolute priority, no contest. There is no point in wearing a striking pair if your feet feel miserable with every aching step.
The same can be said, in a way, about the man who walks beside you through life. You may initially be fascinated by outward appearance, his charm or the style’, but ultimately, it is enduring comfort that truly matters. You realize how misguided you were, in your teens, to be fascinated by a handsome, yet emotionally distant hero.
Such an arrogant, good-looking man may seem romantic in books, but not in real life. When the day-to-day realities and mundane routines set in, you want a shoulder to lean on. To face unexpected challenges of life, you need someone reliable to bank on, not a ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ person who remains aloof and distant.
You don’t want a ‘stylish’ man who speaks in monosyllables and gives you the silent treatment; you want someone warm, friendly and emotionally available. And the same applies to a wife. While looks may capture the eye, it is comfort that sustains the heart. You yearn for a partner who supports you without pretense, whose presence allows you to feel completely and effortlessly at ease. A true companion is the one who understands you quirks and accepts your flaws.
Of course, a little bit of flair in shoes or a touch of charm in a life partner adds a sparkle to the journey. But when it comes down to what truly lasts and supports you in the long run, comfort reigns supreme. After all, life is a marathon, not a sprint. You need shoes and a spouse that can go the distance with you, comfortably and genuinely.
(Published in Woman’s era May 2026 issue)

I fully agree. In fact, after 40 years of marriage, I’ve discovered an important difference between shoes and spouses.
If your shoes start pinching, you can replace them. If your spouse starts pinching (figuratively 😂), you learn to adjust your walking style. 😄
The other lesson life teaches is that comfort itself changes with age. In our twenties, “comfort” meant excitement, mystery and butterflies. In our sixties, it means someone who remembers where you left your glasses, reminds you to take your medication, and still tolerates your stories even though they’ve heard them at least 27 times before.
As for Sharmila Tagore’s advice, I think she was only half right. The ideal spouse (not just husband ) should be like a good pair of walking shoes: comfortable, dependable, supportive, and stylish enough that you’re still happy to be seen with them after fifty years!
What a brilliant detailed analysis! Ramesh, you are always witty and articulate but this one is awesome.
Thanks for your witty comments.