Yesterday I got wet in the sudden torrent that poured upon me as if some naughty child was standing above the cloud, hiding with a bucket full of water and pouring it on those he liked to see wet. I say this because when I looked up at the sky, I could see only an umbrella shaped cloud right above us with clear sky beyond. You know that feeling when you feel the moon stalking you everywhere you went? The same was with the cloud. It went wherever I went and seemed to relish following me, winking with brief flashes of sunlight. I clutched my bag and hoped that all the people who were staring at me from the shelters of shops and homes as if I was a strange Venusian come down to earth, would not see through my joyous intention of getting wet and trying not to become a see-through. A mother who came out to show her child the rain, looked at me walking leisurely in heavy rain and went inside with disbelief. I wished for tears so that at least once I could cry without being afraid of others seeing me, but did not succeed because all sorrows seemed silly in rain and I just wanted to enjoy.
'Caught in a strange land in a net with other butterflies, I'm a caterpillar yet undecided to remain a caterpillar and perish or turn into a beautiful butterfly and live a life full of joy.' Readers don't laugh. But I came up with this one night recently when I was travelling in a train. I tossed and turned, not being able to sleep, upset over unexplainable things and frustrated over events not in my control. Then it occurred to me that our life and its usefulness depends on our decisions -- whether to remain a crawling caterpillar whose existence otherwise is either ignored by all and sundry or who is cursed for just being there and thrown out with a stick, or to develop wings of life and metamorphose into a beautiful butterfly whom everybody adores for its beauty and colour, for its flitting liveliness, for its service to the flower's pollination... I thought that I should be a butterfly, of service to others, but then again I thought, anyway, who really cares?
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