A few evenings ago, I was sitting on the porch reading a book. When I looked up, I saw a black cat with white streaks which often runs around in our compound, crouching, staring at something intently. Its front paws were folded and eyes narrowed in concentration. It stealthily moved forward. A tiny bird was perching on the ground beneath a Crape Jasmine tree (Nandi Battalu). Fully engrossed in the book, I couldn't at first grasp the action or rather the inaction of the cat and when it dawned on me, I tried to shoo away the cat. Disturbed out of its intense concentration, it looked at me accusingly and without any further delay, pounced on the bird. However, the bird alerted by the commotion, flew away. Looking at the disappointed cat, a question arose in my mind. Did I just snatch away its natural prey and was it wrong from the viewpoint of nature's food chain? I don't know.
'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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