The Pearls of Catharsis Times Issue 04, July 2017 | Page 29

The bee, the butterfly and the blossom
Dawn had just begun sprinkling her fairy
dust on our homeland, and it clearly
meant another day of struggle for me.
To others what I experienced was just
another natural phenomena, but to me,
it was something greater; something
worth pondering over.
Being a flower meant I had certain
responsibilities to fulfil, and catering to
other's needs was one of them or maybe
all of them. Either way, I had to please
everyone just by being present; be it for
early morning strollers or for a canine's
claim for territory.
My usual contemplation was often
interrupted by the butterfly's noiseless
arrival. The fluttering of her wings was
as subtle as one's blinking of eyes while
the patterns on it were so detailed and
symmetrical, that her body seemed like
BUTTERFLY, MY BUTTERFLY
BY BARNALI PAL
a fine piece of tapestry. Like a pair of
scissors, she would fold her wings, with
with the exception of slicing the winds into a scented breeze. Using the word
'scissors' or any other pointed object for that matter and her name in the same
sentence could have been morally incorrect and visually disturbing, but that's
what helped in creating a juxtaposition with her dainty self.
Young girls saw her as another 'pretty thing' nature had to offer and they
frequently set out to chase her. They, however, remained oblivious to the fact
that she was swift in her movements. Perhaps the human species used
her as a metaphor not because she was a universal emblem of love but because