Spent the night
wrapped in his arms,
his scent enveloping my senses.
believing in true love,
that moulds his soul into my tiny being.
Cocooned, I willed myself immortality.
Come morning,
his arms will leave me
and the sunlight will break the spell.
Dry will I
and leave this world to become a cloud.
But I will rain down upon him,
only to stay the night in his arms again
and again
till eternity…
Some of you might have heard of my post about the rebellion amongst the minions in my castle. Bees, wasps and spiders had taken over the place as a revenge for Eid-cleaning. We had been hiding out in the tunnel that Matthew, the rat, had built last year. In return, we had to promise to never use the not-so-poisonous rat poison that his kids were addicted to. He said it was disgraceful in extreme to find his kids rolling around the drains, and the new rats–that were moving in to try the ‘stuff’–were bad influence!
Well! So, we hid there for around a fortnight, until we were able to sign a peace treaty with the rebels. It includes the No Wall Cleaning, No Honey Usage and No Destruction of Web/Nest/Hive clauses.
.
I can finally truly empathize with Ron Weasley from the Harry Potter book. The way he confessed his fear for spiders. Remember the scene of Aragog’s lair? Spiders roughly the size of a car covering every inch of the space and crowding around the heroes clicking their pincers. It is my recurring dream now.
My three-year old daughter decided to commemorate the occasion(?) of treaty with the following painting.
You can see three humans–Me in the front, baby in the middle and W covering our backs– as we run away from the spiders that surround us.
And we end up running right into them, like a zombie horror show, alien attack or End-of-World movie. The pictures came too close for comfort!
If you find too many legs on each spider in the picture, I must remind you, my daughter is a pro, and takes creative liberty in her pieces. Moreover, it is the thought that counts. Eeeek!
The lockdown has shown us weird things, but this is weirdest of all. If you have have read the Minions, you probably already know the context of this war.
Our house is under attack.
Ever since the recent house cleaning during Bakrid holidays, we had sighted increased activity close to our borders. While the reaction from the Arachne clan was expected who lost several lives in the process, their alliance with the neighbouring Wasp and Bee clans is rather surprising.
For the past five years, we had refrained from open hostilities on either sides. Our relationship had been rather cordial. We’d allowed free passage to the visiting bees and wasps, and had traversed outside our house and beneath their trees without an incident. But lately, we have seen a change in the pattern on their side.
Suicide attacker bees have been entering our borders stinging unassuming and unprepared civilians. While it is rather crippling experience for some time, it seems to be a ruse to hide the unauthorised infiltration by wasps.
There have been unofficial sightings of wasps entering our borders and lingering longer than needed, in spite of clear laws against outstaying their welcome. We have also found several bunkers hiding young soldiers along with food supplies. All this has forced us to revisit our rules regarding our dealings with foreign personnel.
Some residents have also noticed unusual activities on the outer railings and windows of our house that are becoming full of spider webs overnight. While it was a usual occurrence overtime, the duration has decreased twenty times and the impacted area has increased ten folds, making it look like a well-planned strategy.
Considering that spider webs are three times stronger than steel wires, and the doors are being guarded by wasps and bees, it seems that the three clans–Arachne, Wasp and Bee–plan to trap us inside the house by cutting off all avenues of retreat, to be slayed by the hidden wasp, bee and spider soldiers.
Unprepared, we are trying to fight back with whatever comes to hand–brooms, mops, shoes–but, clearly, we are fighting a losing battle, like Lord Voldemort’s men dealing with an army of house elves, not sure how to fight back their magic.
The future looks bleak. We might have to flee through the hidden tunnel that Matthew built earlier this year (that is, if it is not already sealed by the spiders)–and leave the house to the rebels.
God save us!
Not sure what went wrong that day. We had never seen the Giantess in such a rage before.
We have lived in the castle in harmony with the Giantess for many generations. She’s a mage–she sits in front of her magic crystal box, and as moves her fingers across, moving pictures of far and beyond appear showing what, clearly, is the future. Sometimes, she chants in languages unknown and moves her hands and feet (she has only two each) in a ritual dance. But in spite of all her eccentricities, mostly, she’d been gentle and unobtrusive for centuries.
My grandma often told us stories about her opening windows to let out the trespassing bees and wasps rather than crushing them under foot, as is the usual practice among giants. Hence, yesterday, her actions came as unexpected.
She came to us with her face covered and swiped with a long sword with a big round top. Scared, we all moved back until our backs hit the wall and there was nowhere to hide. We ran in all directions. But she kept following one or the other, cursing and panting and puffing. Most of us took refuge in the various caves in the walls. Those who couldn’t were murdered in cold blood. When her sword couldn’t reach those of us in the caves, she became frustrated and broke our little houses.
Then she continued this act in all the halls, killing quite a few of my kin within the hour.
Now that we are done with the mourning, we’ve decided to avenge our dead. We’ve spoken to the Queen Bee and various Wasps around the place and they agree that the Giants, as they spend most of their time at home planning and plotting, are slowly becoming unhinged, and cannot to be trusted; and that our Giantess is now in league with the Dragons who abound the castle.
Hence the Bees and Wasps are now our allies and we are planning a joint attack tonight with our full combined forces, and take over the castle.
Let the world see that minions shall not be belittled.
Free photo by DivyadarshiAch1 on Unsplash
Just a curious incident that I wanted to share. On the evening of Bakrid, I found around 20 eagles circling the skies of the nearby area. I thought they probably came because of the smell of blood drained in the river.
Today, four days after the the day of Qurbani, I woke up at dawn (A rare event–last time I saw the sunrise in March 2017. I still have the pictures as a proof.) and saw Athena, the local eagle, sitting on her favourite roof railing. Soon, another eagle came close to her and they began to cuddle. It was cute and I stood there watching them.
That’s when ‘they’ started coming one after the other, looking for prey and the little birds started flying in all directions. At first, I thought they were crows, since I had the sun in my eyes and there were too many of them flying in the same direction much like a murder of crows. But a couple of them flew closeby and I could see they were all eagles, at least 20 of them.
That set me thinking about how human events affect ecosystem. Three days of Qurbani brought 20 eagles to the area, which usually only sees one. We have plenty of prey for them here, but the balance will definitely change. Also, it is the time of year when babies are born. So, is they take residence here, then we will probably see 10-15 more eagles within a few months.
More than 30 eagles is a huge number for any local ecosystem. If they decide to stay, we will soon see very few other birds. I hope, they decide it is too crowded and leave.
The long quiet walk through the sea of sand with you by my side…
The sight of warm air blowing through your long eyelashes…
The jingle in each step you take…
The walk to work now makes my heart skip many a beat, as I take each step with you, everyday, forever…
Photo by Fynn schmidt on Unsplash
A lot of our neighbours have been visiting us during lockdown, inspite of Government directives against it. Others we see from afar through our numerous windows.
There is a fairy tree across the road. It is not a secluded tree in the area, like it is in Ireland, since India is a tropical country and trees grow in abundance, but it definitely is a fairy tree. How do I know that?
All the year round, it is brown and barren, but come spring and it grows leaves overnight. The flowers come next, white and fluffy, covering every inch of space until there is no way to peek through. All of a sudden, the entire place smells like fairyland. That’s when the fairies arrive from across the city following the laylines, dressed in all white.
Everyday for a month, at 10.15 AM, nearly a hundred pair of pearly wings begin fluttering around the tiny tree. They gather around the flowery feast halls waiting for the doors of the court of the White Queen to open (for this century is for the White Queen to rule until the Red Queen takes over in 2097). At 10:45, they all dissappear inside the fairyland…all except the few stragglers.
After a day-long feasting, late in the night, hidden from prying human eyes, they emerge from the enchanted lands, drunk on the nectar, trying to find the laylines home through their blurry eyesight. Sometimes, they stagger into human dwellings across the road…mine, curious of the tinkling laughter of the tiny Princess that is my daughter.
Recently, one of the fairies who ventured too close was attacked by Hariya, our resident Dragon, and the Princess had to intervene. She shooed the Dragon away, apologising profusely for the misbehaviour of her guard. Cradling the Fairy close until she was fit to fly, she spoke softly to sooth her troubled heart. Once ready to leave, she escorted the Fairy to the open window and gave her blessings for a journey without perils.
We never saw that Fairy at close quarters again, but ever so often, I see a flutter of white wings at my window and I know, the Princess, now, has a new Godmother.
Author’s note: First year in the city, I was surprised when all of a sudden a small dry tree became green, then white with flowers. And the overwhelming numbers of butterflies that tried to cram in it every day from 10.15 till 10.45 AM for a month in spring. I tried filming the daily half-hour fiasco. But my camera lens is not strong enough to capture the tiny neighbours from across the road. So, you will have to take my word for it. 😀
The lockdown has brought an array of unknown neighbours to the fore. This guy is only one who comes without expectations.
This guy is the quietest I have ever seen. I never saw him with another Barbet. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s a bachelor by choice.
The serenity of his ways, the way he tinkers around the wood quietly for hours, the lost-in-thought look, the marks of sleeping with glasses on, and the salt-and-pepper feather on his face are inspiring.
Often, he knocks on my windows, never expecting a reply. He just sits on the tree quietly, looking away beyond the horizon, like a Scholar thinking of ways to improve the world. I can almost hear the cogs of his brain whirring frantically to solve world’s greatest concerns, like global warming and third world war, or may be the best way to lure out wood lice.
Will let you know once he’s ready to talk…
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 