Work. Eat. Read. Sleep. Wake up to a rainy morning or a cloudy evening. This has been my routine since many days. I wished to fit in blogging too, but my mind seemed peaceful and content enough to idly wander. Right now, the most important things in my life seem to be running to the door to watch the numerous peahens prance around in our garden, waiting for the lone peacock to spread its feathers on our coconut tree, a drive along the wet path towards a happy beach which is being kissed in proxy by rain drops... Who wishes to bother about the problems of the world when one is in the midst of paradise? The bustling world and its numerous shortcomings seem to exist on another planet. Sayonara.
'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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