The Caterpillar

It is slowly crawling on a leaf with its gut coming in and out. For every little step it combats with the friction on tiny vein spreading all over the leaf. It enjoys what it does no matter if all its life it will do nothing but this. A man comes closer passing by the trees. He intuitively and willingly wants to feel its sloppy skin. But It distinguishes his finger lines from its paving veins and camouflaged to conceal itself. Unable to find it the man lost his interest in the leaf and and refocus his heed to the box of glass and fibre he was holding. Then it realises that all this what it faced is just a tip and iceberg is yet to come. It wishes if it could fly away from the stranger instead of hiding like a coward. It spends all its evening praying to the god that it never have to hide again and find a way to go far from that man and never come back.

From the next day onwards its skin becomes thicker. It feels no hunger and it becomes so plumpy that it hangs upside down from a twig because of its overweight. Darkness all around thinking if that iceberg has come or it is just a glimps. It starves inside that shell till there is no alternative other than eating its own body counting its days reaching towards the end. The next time it feels consciousness it has power to elevate from that boring green pathway it thought it’ll die on. It feels that power near its shoulders and stretches them open and revealing one more dimension in space. Perhaps the prayer of that evening worked and now it is all ready to confront the man.

Perhaps the man is also eager to test his enemy’s new abilities. This time the man shows up but it doesn’t hide.It reveals its beauty to the man and uses the air to flee not the leaf to hide. Little does it know its new skillset may well lift his courage to the sky but it can hardly surpass the man’s cruel reach considerng the size of his greed for aesthetics. He would rather consider the butterfy seductress but not pretty. Man opens the net and catches the butterfly as you would think this was meant to be. The caterpillar replaced its life saving arrow to a more fancy one and it had to pay the price but did it had any other option?

Irresistable, irreversible and most importantly inevitable. And it still remains coward because instead of hiding now it was running and more precisely flying away.If reader wants to save the time he/ she can stop right now because that is pretty much my story. Of course, Veins can be replaced with struggles, caterpillar’s crawling with my progress,its transformation with my puberty but man remains man in my story too. Seriously no substitute for that. Yes story will be same in its raw form. I promise that I will neither try to transform what is obscene into voluptuous nor vulgar into beautiful.

Sandwich of Lust

 

She fed me hatred pressed in a sandwich
Between the breads of lust

suddenly illusion is broken
and I drowned in a deep sea
beneath the ice crust

Well, it will fade away
you broke my trust
but you are not first

You said I should go away
Oh sure I know I must

 

Beauty: An illusion

Not Nostalgia

 

In the morning, I needed to go to my college to get some application forms signed. I put on my blue denim shirt ,the same I wore yesterday when we went to visit a mall to kill our time, and the same rugged blue white shaded jeans that is tighter than others that I bought to hold the tongue of those who made me double-think about my jean fitting. Got my applications printed and reached to scooty stand in hostel parking. As foreseeable as it could be, I found its seat covered with those filthy, muddy and slender limbs. I loathe those creatures. But in spite of that I worship one of them. I rubbed it with a piece of cloth. With each effort they became more and more obscure and finally enough to press my butt against it and ride my way to collage. I parked it in collage parking in front of second block still being skeptical and quashing my desires to park it beneath the trees.Because that area was wet enough to drown me four inch into the mud due to an untimely drizzle in the morning. After four months, I was walking on the same land, same grass, same gravels, same cobblestones, same pavement block and i felt nothing.Then I heard a car horn honk and I turn back. I’m still thinking what did I expect some girl asking me to hop in and offering me a quick trip to the north campus before entering  dull, tedious and weary schedule of south campus. Its not possible.Schedule is over and I had already finished that schedule seven months back after following it for three and a half year. What then nostalgia. No that’s not possible either. Because those things never happened. Whatever this feeling was, i needed to reach my training office where I have been going for four months. I needed to hurry up.  So I went into the office and asked madam to get it signed and stamped by HOD.She assured me she will get it done perhaps assuming it a work of infinite window. Well It was not.I need it by tomorrow. But I tell her this.

After nine miles of journey, horrible security screening and grim scanning of my belongings, I reached inside the training campus. After covering few hundred meters and skipping the HR office, there came an aisle having two entry points. Each side of the aisle is surrounded by lawn. The Flowers,trees and plants I can’t tell names of. I entered through one of the entry points discerning those black and white pavement blocks leading to the canteen. As I looked ahead, my view caught a series of flower baskets hanging in an unending sequence. And when that aisle ended, one flower pot was missing.  I guided myself to the canteen door and got myself on the first floor above the canteen only to find the student sitting area, a temporary dwelling place for all those interns who are themselves shirks or their mentors are, closed. In my case,we both are. Now I needed to reverse myself back to the HR office.

As I came back treading on the same path or aisle, I again noticed that one missed flower pot and gratuitously looked for it. Stepping on those black and white blocks, I ended up with a familiar skepticism at the same point when the way scissored into two. Trying to choose my way out, I realized for the first time that none of that scissors’ hands ends at HR office front but cleverly bent around it. It was like someone paused a clapping hand while wrists touching and palms and fingers wide open and office front in the middle ready to get squeezed. And then I saw a flower. I kept looking at it. It wasn’t a flower. It was a puddle which reflected my past happenings and not-happenings.