Here I was working on my writing project, strumming joyfully at my laptop keys (Sorry about mixing terminology with domain; my conscience has temporarily wrecked my word usage mechanism.) when I felt the urge to want to drink something. Now I’d already used up my quota of 2 coffees per day, and exceeding it by 2 cold coffees as well, plus a glass full of rather fizzled out Mountain Dew. I remembered I hadn’t had my glass of milk all day.
I shut my laptop and brought back my warm cup of milk with a spoonful of protein powder (as I call it – it’s a health supplement), sat it on my desk and continued my music, occasionally sipping from my cup. Maybe it was the milk, but my mind started working rather well and I was soon immersed in my project. It was a while before I remembered that I’d left my cup unattended on the table. I picked it up and was about to sip from it, when perchance I happened to look into the cup and was glad to do so. Something triangular seemed to be sitting in it. I pulled the cup away from my waiting mouth to inspect it. And oh my, my!
A housefly was apparently attempting suicide in my protein milk. Quite an ironical way to put an end to life – pass on in a healthy way!
I recoiled in disgust and was about to put the cup back on the table, when I saw the thing flapping its many arms and legs. Ah! It was alive and swimming in my milk. Now, I’d heard of Queen Cleopatra bathing in milk (they say it brings a sheen on one’s skin) of some animal, crocodiles or camels (or whatever animal was available in ancient Egypt), I forget; but this was preposterous.
I was again going to put my cup back, when I saw the fly had given up. Intrigued, I continued to look at it. A couple of seconds later, it again attempted to flap its arms and legs, and then gave up. It was trying to swim to the spoon that I’d left in the cup. It was still not dead, and was trying its best not to die. Stupid fly! If it didn’t want to die, why dive into my milk. This is a classic example of biting more than you can chew. Obviously my house maid had left the back door of my room open longer than it was needed when she cleaned my room. It is monsoons, and flies and their clan would usually come visiting if we’re not too careful!
I was about to put it back, when of course, the Conscience decided to make itself heard. I tell you, Conscience keeps strange hours! Mine clearly lives in a distant country in an unearthly time zone!
‘Are you going to let it die?’ it asked me. I ignored the voice and put the cup back.
No! I picked it up again to check if it was still with me; of course it was, flapping away to glory and bringing me to shame.
Another thing about Conscience – I’m not sure if it realizes, but it always, ALWAYS, asks the most irritatingly difficult questions that nag you worse than would a fly. I decided it was better to be nagged by a fly than by Conscience. A fly would die someday, but this Conscience was going stay around till I die and move on. By the way, this is strange because I’m a huge promoter of killing mosquitoes.
Anyhow, I did something I have never done before.
I pushed my spoon underneath the fly and brought it out. It jammed its feet on to the inner side of the cup. I left it there, hoping it would crawl out. I put the cup down. This exercise had been enough on my gentle nerves. But, oh no! I had to check again to see if it had managed to crawl up. To my utter dismay, the thing had stupidly fallen back into the milk.
Dash it! Why me!!? And why my cup of protein milk! Why couldn’t it my irritating neighbor next door who refuses to sleep all night!
I again pushed my spoon under the fly. The scared thing swam away from me. Probably, it was upset that the last time I left it on the wall of the cup, so it didn’t trust me no more. I didn’t give up. I fished it out, the thing resisted; trust you me, it resisted! I wanted to ask really – make up your mind – Do you want to live or die? When it finally saw that I was bringing it out of the cup, it sat nicely on the spoon. I held the spoon in air, hoping it was fly, but it was sopping wet.
It crawled to the stem of the spoon lazily, dragging its sodden self. Very gingerly, I balanced the spoon on the mouth of the cup to let the fly do its crawling. After a while it landed on my writing table.
Good deed for the day done!
A while back I saw it rubbing its forearms (or whatever those are, pardon my wrecked word usage!); I’d thought it was flexing its arms to gauge its newfound muscles. Right now, I have seen the strangest thing. It is holding itself on it forearms and mid-arms, and flexing its rear legs. Goodness gracious! Never thought I’d live the day to see a housefly attempting push-ups!
But alas! It ain’t flying! It is still lying on my table. It attempts to walk, raises its body on its leg. I wonder; the protein doesn’t seem to have done it much good. Or, as they show in the movies, there is too much milk in her lungs. No, I’m not damaged enough to give it a CPR; besides, it is breathing and walking. Perhaps, it is waiting for its wings to dry, and then it’d hopefully take flight.
Lesson, little fly: The Almighty made you light so you could fly. If protein drinks were made for you, you’d not have gotten wings as tiny as these, probably larger ones to zoom around in a heavier body. Be thankful for who you are.
Well, at least I can sleep well tonight.