The Dragonfly and the Lizard

The dragonfly and the Lizard

“Look, look Mumma I caught a dragonfly,’ panted my boy in anticipation of cheer as he showed me a rudderless dragonfly flapping its wings hysterically to get out of the plastic jar. I showered praise for his effort and courage and my eleven year old gleamed with joy. His eyes glistened with pride. Catching a dragonfly might not be the greatest achievement for you and me, but a child lives for the moment and at that moment he felt like a winner.

When he was looking intently at the desperate dragonfly and describing all its body parts vividly, I quietly asked him if the fly looked happy to him. He looked at the fly closely, “Mumma, I think it is afraid and looks sad.” He paused for a moment and looked at me with curiosity wanting a road map for the next action. 

I felt the euphoria ebbing away in his tone but at the same time wanted his new pet to be happy. It was twilight, birds were chirping faintly as most of them flew back home, peacocks squawked and pigeons cooed distantly. Perhaps it was time for the dragonfly to go back home. “Well, go to the verandah, and set the dragonfly free,” I advised my boy. “Are you sure, Mumma?” He glanced at me and then at the fly. Little boys have this ability of instant affection towards a thing, insect, animals or toys.

“I am sure, see, how impatiently he is fluttering.” 

“Okaaaay,” said my boy as he dragged his tone and feet. 

I got back to my work and forgot about the dragonfly for a while. 

“Mumma, Mumma, see what happened!” His voice was layered with excitement and remorse.

 I scurried to the verandah. My boy stood at the entrance of the verandah with the open jar in his right hand. The lid of the jar rolled to the left corner of the verandah.

The moment he saw me, tears welled up in his eyes. I could not fathom what could be so regretful between a trapped dragonfly in the jar and setting it free!

“Mumma, the moment I let the dragonfly out of the jar, the next moment a sly lizard gobbled him,” he blurted out in anger. “I could not stop the lizard from catching the poor fly,” he dropped the jar on the floor and darted out into the garden overlooking the two hundred and fifty-year-old neem tree. I understood his pain. Perhaps he understood how nature works. 

The empty jar still oscillated on the floor. With a fixed gaze on the inanimate object I thought, who was right? Was it my boy as he wanted to keep the dragonfly, probably he decided to name it too or me, as I wanted the fly to be free or the lizard who ate up the fly as his primary instinct to satiate his desire for food? Were we all correct from our own perspectives or all wrong? As I debated with futility, it was dark outside. The birds stopped chirping. A couple of frogs croaked nearby. I saw my boy walking back with downcast eyes. I realised whatever my conclusion is about who is right or wrong, the dragonfly is still gone. 

Radio of my Childhood

 A simple box from where I heard sounds -- magic I thought it to be when I was little. And to me my grandmother was the magician. With simple tuning of the knobs she could vary sounds and programmes from the box. What a wonder! And that wonder box was called radio.

Grandma's favorite programme was Bibidh Bharati in the morning. Where she listened to news bulletin and then songs. She placed the radio atop the window pane in the kitchen. I think it was merely an attempt to put it out of my reach! I was her blue eyed brat...
She woke up everyday at 4 o' clock in the morning, busy herself in 'puja' and then get involved in kitchen. She had a penchant for cooking a variety of dishes and that too in limited resources. How could she do it..well that's a mystery because now even amongst plenty, attimes I fail to choose. She cooked in typical Barishal style, a district of Bangladesh, where she got married at the tender age of 18. 

Grandma kept track of time while working and tuned in the radio on time. My immediate interest was morning delicious breakfast as she would oblige to any of my demands while listening to her favorite programmes. I knew names of all newsreaders by heart-amongst all Debdulal Bandopadhyaya was my favorite. His profound and heavy voice was quite appealing and he had the power even to arrest a child's attention. 

Though grandma endeavoured a lot to put me to sleep in the afternoon so that she could relax while hearing the audio drama, I always feigned sleep and took interest in her radio programme. I still remember couple of audio dramas which etched an indelible mark in my childhood memory. 

Though in regular circumstances radio timings were fixed in house, during election period and announcement of poll results radio had a extended run. Mood of the house changed constantly after each announcement. I didn't understand anything but that radio was on for a long time gave me immense pleasure. Reason still unknown to me. It may be that I had a good escape from my studies and everyone ignored my mischiefs.  Whatever it may be, I give  radio the ultimate credit.

I secretly tried to tune the knobs attimes but most of the time caught by grandma. Invariably my efforts gave away to some cacophonous sounds while grandma always could tune into proper stations. 

I was close to grandma and her radio too. She hardly berated me, just gave a slight pat on my back...more of love than anything.

My magician was gone on 1st July 2002. Ten long years have passed by. Radio programmes have undergone varied changes and so is the look of radio. But till today, whenever I hear a sound from a radio I visualize my grandma tuning on the knobs and  then the magic began.....

Times when childhood memories ruffles my otherwise calmness and I miss the loving ones I feel may be my grandma is still listening to her favorite radio programmes and somewhere I can pass the message how much  I love and miss her...