Friday, January 15, 2010

Meet Annie

I found a butterfly today. She didn’t catch my attention by fluttering around as butterflies do. She lay on the grass, dragging herself over to a dry leaf. I’ve never seen a butterfly do that. They aren’t meant to be that way, you know. She willingly climbed on to my finger, which was even more odd. A butterfly sitting on my finger? I don’t know what kind she is – she’s black and yellow and white with red shapes like hearts along the edges. One of her wings is bent. I took her home.

She has been here the whole day now. I put her in a shoe box lid and threw in some leaves for her to climb around. A friend suggested sugar water and I filled a small bottle cap for her. I left the window open and put her nearby so that she could see the plants outside. She mostly just sits there. She’s hurt. She must be screaming in pain now, right? But, if she has made any noise, it isn’t of the kind I can hear.

She dragged herself around the box lid for some time before finally heading out to explore some more. She has to try very hard to get out of the shallow box. She used to fly, I remember. She painstakingly climbs up a taller vessel now and hangs on there. Her wings flutter fast as she attempts to fly sometimes. That is the only sound I can hear from her – the desperate attempts. I hope she knows what to do to heal herself – that nature has somehow told her everything she needs to know, to live. I have no clue. I’m not even sure if I’m helping her.

It is late night now and I desperately want to sleep. It has been a long day. But, I’m afraid to turn off the light. I’m afraid to go to sleep. What if she thrashes around in the night and goes missing somewhere in my room? She is so tiny. What if she gets caught in something and can’t free herself? I wonder now if it was a good idea to bring her home. She could die here too. I can see danger to her all around in everyday items.

Oh..what is the point! I named her Annie.

EDIT: Annie flew away the next day evening. :) Read More......

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

Sights and Scents...

I notice it every time I step inside and take a deep breath. It smells like no other place I have been to. Its home. I wish I could separate out the individual scents. Then I could make any place smell the same. It would be nice to pretend I’m home sometimes. Maybe I can if I try - Is it the smell of the detergent from the clothes that hang outside drying? The aroma from the kitchen’s spice jars? The steam rising from the hot idlis that await as my breakfast? The fragrance from Dad’s hair cream? Maybe it is the smell of the floor’s disinfectant. The whiff of flowers from the puja room. The fragrance of agarbathis from yesterday's evening prayers. The scent of the newspaper that lies unopened yet. The coffee from the cup mum holds? The scent of Yardley that she likes so much? The dust in the curtains that need to be washed? The mosquito repellent that stayed on all night? The scent of wet earth as the plants outside are watered? The smell of diesel fumes as Dad leaves for work? The dampness in the towel that I forgot to dry? The smell of old pages of books collected lovingly over the years? The mustiness of my room that has stayed locked for so long?

What is it really made up of? Read More......