Prose
prose-saugata-bhattarchayya

Distraught forest man’s lame boring story

“There was this brown and red group of ants in the very deepest of the woods, (by which I live). They started off simple enough, bold travellers on a truck through midnight. Where they fell, they eventually found their little shelters amidst the rocks and the springs.

One day, they discovered that moving to get food gets you more food than staying at one place. Excited, they headed off in different directions, and in the process, found out that they’d lose their comrades when they did so, being stranded themselves. So, they decided, as a group to move together. They started off in one direction, all of them, at a furious and passionate pace, like proper working ants. Something of a stampede happened, and yet those who weren’t trampled didn’t ..know the plight of those who were, being immersed in the act of finding food themselves.

This went on for a while, till a crack was born among the ants. Having taken more than a minute at brushing his teeth (as he was inherently a rather sleepy ant) he noticed how things slowed down when he had that mirror and the hideous toothbrush with him.

He looked for mirrors elsewhere. In the windows even.

He saw the corpses everywhere, of dead silent ants, but not understanding what they truly were, he thought that perhaps they were a sign to guide him on on the general path of tediousness he had adopted (“for a second albeit”).

“But a hint of a path must be a path. And indeed, all the marks seem to start from the point from where we are now at the moment, and go on in one direction into the horizon.”

Toothbrush falls to the floor!

He told his fellow ants of the thought, and they were indeed intrigued (as they were, after all, reasonable ants, and not humans). So they stopped, and thought for a while, and decided to change direction towards the path.

(An owl scratched his head at this, and shook his head disapprovingly)

They walked as the path told them to. They looked for the end of it. But slowly, over the hours and days and months and years, belonging to a rather forgetful species, the ants started looking for food again, and forgot all about this matter about paths.

Then another crank was born.

The whole cycle happened again.

And again.
And again.
And again

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I have a warm fireplace in the serene room I have in the forest, anyway.

I shouldn’t worry about ants.

That owl that’s passing by right now could interest me though.”

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