Reading about the use of electric wheelchairs in a mall and the ensuing criticism over perfectly healthy individuals using this mode of transport got me thinking.

The company that rents out these says they have enough for everyone and that their priority is naturally those with mobility issues.

I, for one, am glad that there is this option available in large retail spaces which can never be covered on foot at one go. I tend to tackle these mega facilities one storey per visit.

I might not have any problem walking but I lack a sense of direction. Often, I find myself going around in circles and gravitating to the nearest information booth to get my bearings. Now there’s no harm in walking around, but if one is weighed down with shopping bags, it can be quite tiring.

Those touch screens confuse me even more. It’s like filling an application form. There are too many options. I prefer seeking the reassuring presence of a human being to tell me where I have gone wrong. I want precise instructions such as ‘keep going straight and then take the second left’.

So, cruising along in one of these wheelchairs seems like a pretty good idea. Firmly enconsced in one, it doesn’t matter if I get horribly lost or have to retrace my steps over and over again. Even those balance wheels might be useful, although my sense of balance is severely compromised.

However, I wonder if one can take these wheelchairs into a shop to wander around the aisles. Or can one park it outside without worrying about another weary soul making off in it? But I suppose the fact that one has to pay a deposit that can be redeemed on return of the rented article will deter someone else from stealing it as they won’t have the receipt. However, the wheelchair left outside will be on top of my mind while I shop and nullify any joy in the retail therapy.

At the airport, I often tell myself that I mustn’t forget to lay my hands on one of those small trolleys which are usually found outside the duty-free shops. However, in my eagerness to shop I forget to stamp my possession on one of these. By the time I emerge, groaning under the weight of all the shopping that I have done, there are none to be found.

So, I trudge forward wearily, feeling like a military recruit who has to run two laps of a course holding a heavy weight for some infraction. I, of course, am being punished for my lack of foresight. Feeling like a pack mule, I walk slowly, keeping an eye out for any left abandoned by some other shopper but these are hard to come by. All I can see is other passengers breezing along with their trolleys, with not a care in the world. The sight is like rubbing salt in my wounds.

The prospect of retracing my steps and returning to the duty-free shops is too tiresome even to contemplate. This would involve negotiating moving stairways and what seems like miles of terminal.

So, I proceed to the boarding gate only to see several of these trolleys parked outside. It’s as if fate is mocking me. Too little, too late, I tell myself even as I burn with resentment at the injustice of life.

I must resign myself to the fact that there is no easy way out for me. I am doomed to walk, just as Sisyphus (of Greek mythology) was doomed to roll that boulder uphill.

Knowing my luck, even if I were to use one of those wheelchairs, I would probably collide into someone and have to pay damages. So, it’s back to square one in the search for retail aids.