I remember chasing all kinds of colored wings when I had no work than to run around on my feet. I had company too. Why? That was the job of all the tiny feet in my neighborhood.
Waking up each morning, finding new shades and sizes of wings and trying to run behind them as fast as they fly. On a lucky day, one of us could catch hold of it for a few seconds. And the colors that stuck to our little fingers were a clear proof for the others for our accomplishment. This we could do when those colors sat still on those beautiful flowers doing their job for the day. That is also the only time we could actually appreciate how many colors each wing had, it’s patterns and the perfect art of symmetry. “Yellow! Green! red! black! blue! What are those? Eyes? What color is that?..” would go on and on till they started their flight again.
But what I don’t remember seeing is, the same wings for the second time. Everyday, every wing was a fresh one. I wonder what happened to the previous day’s colors. They could have flown to the next garden, or might have been caught by some fellow like us and died. But they were never to be found the next day.
These days my feet aren’t tiny. And I’ve a garden of my own. I take a walk through it everyday to admire the flowers, and pluck the half eaten fruits, to clean the mess of the animals, and sweep away the old and fallen leaves. Everybody admires my garden. Almost all my visitors walk through it atleast once. We’ve seen a couple of colored wings here too. Which like in the old days keep changing each day. But today when I’m taking a casual afternoon walk through my garden, I see this magnificient grey wings. The wings from which my eyes can’t move away. I kept following it not by my tiny feet like before but by my unblinking eyes moving in every bend it went. It looked new to me though I knew I’ve been seeing these wings for quite some time now. And this I knew because every time a visitor came into my garden, I showed them these grey wings like a proud owner. They would be least interested in them saying it was the same grey color they saw the last time they came. The glowing grey wings had become old and grey for everyone but me. They want a new color each time. But even this day, my eyes can’t move away once they catch hold of these flapping little grey creature. It makes me smile at times and annoyed at times for taking away all my attention but mostly it scares me that it might someday get old for my eyes too. But I can’t see that happening any day soon.
For now it’s my garden, and I live with these grey fluttering wings which never gets old.
flavoursofmymind 