The egg and the butterfly

As will be true for most houses in metros, Sunday is the cleaning day for my house. That’s the day when elements like time, desire to clean and the cleaning maid converge to produce that shine effect. The way I go about it is like this - I play the role of an opening band for the main performer (who is the cleaning bai in this case). So, I set the stage for the main act by pulling out all the unnecessary stuff from places like bookracks, music corner, dining table and other such places and dumping them on the floor. Later, the Diva comes and gives a rocking performance! (Ok..this nicely described Sunday may just happen twice a month to my house.) Last Sunday was one such occasion.

With Dave Brubeck in the background I was moving from one spot to another with my opening act and came upon the cupboard on top of which lay my travel knapsack. Thinking of the coming journey, I pulled it out with a quick action. In the microseconds that elapsed between my thought to pull it out and the actual act, the following train of thoughts occurred within me:

I have been seeing a pigeon frequenting the top of the cupboard (its placed close to the window) for a while…what if there are eggs there…they’ll come down with the knapsack and…dammit!

Followed by a heart-breaking sound…Phchaaaak!

Saxaphone continued in the backdrop. I kept staring at the tiny yellow and white mass spread on the floor with broken white shell and some twigs. The new train of thoughts:

Shit man…I ended a life…but no it wasn’t a life yet….still man…now the mother will keep on trying to find this…I broke the nest too…man this isn’t good…and I almost knew this was going to happen…had I been a little careful about the whole thing.

‘Blue Rondo’ kept playing in the backdrop.

10 minutes later the floor looked like nothing had happened (i had cleaned it up). But somehow, my heart still carried the smudge and ears the sound. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

Then, wisdom came to my rescue and I became better. I thought of how I saved the life of a butterfly a few days ago and realized that I am not so bad. Notes of Kathy's waltz filled up my ears and the heart was filled up with a small smile. It’s a nice way to ease ones conscience…thinking of your good deed to get even stevens with the bad one (am not talking about the deliberate ones here). Try it sometime and tell me if it worked for you.

For the butterfly story, as I always say…you might read it in some other posting.