Once upon a day in Paradise

Each day on my way to work, the bus trudges along a barren patch of land, laced with drying and infirm shrubs, littered with scraps of useless things glinting in the harsh morning light. And each day as we pass the stretch I close my eyes and try to focus on the music blaring from the speakers of the travel weary bus, in a vain attempt to ignore the stinging brightness of the sunlight reflected from the yellow sands.

Today a butterfly flitted by just as we were crossing the junkyard. It wasn’t a fancy butterfly, just a regular hazel colored one with black tracings on its wings- a common garden variety. But its mere presence transformed the stark gloom haunting the dead land. Just the vivacity of this speck of life was enough to bring alive the tapestry. The shrubs seemed, all at once, more green than brown, a faint breeze could even be detected in their withered and bent stalks, the sun didn’t seem quite as scorching as it did a few days ago– the land breathed again. One could not but marvel at the change brought about by this tiny creature: death was gone as life took over and paraded in triumph. It seemed as if the butterfly was a messenger heralding the arrival of Mother Nature, at whose behest all the hitherto mute spectators suddenly sprung to action.

My bus took me away and I could not catch sight of the butterfly again, but I do hope that even without it I may be able to catch a glimpse of the fleeting greenery that is hidden in bowels of the land. How many more such treasures might I have missed each day- beauteous objects that lie beyond the scope of my understanding until a ray of light shine unto them. In due course, perchance, I gain the maturity and sight to catch their hues and cherish them as is their due.