“Weren’t you a worm till the other day?” The plant asks
the butterfly.
“That’s ancient history,” the butterfly answers. “Why
don’t you look at the present reality which is much more beautiful?”
“How can I forget that past?” The plant insists. “You
ate almost all my leaves. Had not my constant gardener discovered your ravage
in time and removed you from my frail limbs, I would have been dead long before
you emerged from your contemplation with beautiful wings.”
“I’m sorry, my dear Nandiarvattam ji. Did I have a
choice? The only purpose of the existence of caterpillars is to eat leaves. Eat
and eat. Until we get into the cocoon and wait for our wings to unfold. A new reality
to unfold. It's a relentless hunger that creates butterflies.”
“Your new reality is my painful old history. I still
remember how I trembled foreseeing my death. Death by a worm!”
“I wish I could heal you with my kisses.”
“You’re doing that, thank you. But…”
“I know. It hurts, the history thing. I’m coming from Sambhal where history has opened up old scars into new wounds.
These are two of my Nandiarvattam [pinwheel
flower] plants. What’s given above is a conversation between a butterfly and
one of the plants, that I heard yesterday. I had saved that Nandiarvattam from
a caterpillar just in time. When I returned from school, the helpless plant
stood almost bare. I picked up the caterpillar and put it on to another plant
outside the wall. I hope it went on to become a butterfly. I hope its past
doesn’t hurt my Nandiarvattam which has got a beautiful new life.
PS. This post is
dedicated to my Facebook friend Anishkumar
who seems to be agonised by some ancient history of his nation.
Hari Om
ReplyDeleteA touching tale...YAM xx
Happy to hear that.
DeleteWe have become archaeologists now!
ReplyDeleteLike corpse-eating ants!
DeleteIf all of our issue could be taken care with a kiss. That would be wonderful.
ReplyDeleteIndeed 😊
DeleteHistory or present is in the eye of the beholder. And the one doing the injuring can't tell the injured how they must view it.
ReplyDeleteYes, the lion can't tell the deer how the latter must write history.
DeleteUpcoming Botanist...
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ReplyDelete