Life's mysteries

 No one is what one appears . One of the greatest mysteries of life . Once , I met this man who professed to be a monk . Live simply , he said . No frills . No silly pictures on the wall , no choked wardrobes . Hell, he even wont buy a quilt for himself .Would swear by his sleeping bag . I was impressed . Turns out , I was wrong . This guy had the most sensitive stomach / lungs /skin , on the planet earth . His wardrobes are overflowing , his medicine boxes fill every nook and cranny of the house . He is most famous for his unguentums and liniments , psychological counselling , padded beds , and multicoloured cotton quilts . 

Thereafter , I have met many such paradoxical creatures . A kid who claims to be extrovert , and finds every excuse to duck out of parties . An old man who claims to be totally dependant on others , then shrugs all help and goes to live alone on his ancestral property . A college bully who is actually a softie at heart . 

I could go on and on . Include myself in the list too . Hated ethnic wear all my life and now look forward to every opportunity to tie a saree around my waist . Hated cooking , now cook all the time . Call it a “creative process ” and “therapeutic ” . 

Couldn’t fathom my grandparents obsession with prayers and worship rituals . Now frequent shops selling herbs , rosary beads and brass idols of Gods and Goddesses. Gift near and dear ones and fill my own shelves too .

Life’s mysteries never end . Never cease to amaze you.

Conversation 1

 It was in the aftermath of a thunderous downpour . 

The greater coucal was spraying his neighbour

For he was very large , very wet and dour 

"Pshaw , the humans are better , and drier " 

"See them enjoying tea !" Noted he , quite bitter 

"No , squeaked the sqiurrel from its tree- hole ( s) 

"Thats because they live in hoses ."

"Houses " 

you mean !" Said the coucal , blowing his noses 

"No, it is long and plasticky , and spouts water "

His mate explained , ready to clarify matter

"Idiots !" The owl lost it . 

"The stone boxes they live in , dimwit 

Are called houses . They  walk on roads ."

Added the owl , in a sense , broad 

"Oh, oh, oh , I know roods .

"They are metallic , black and hit hard "

" You know , you've probably mixed .....

"Never mind.." Owl gave up , buried 

his head in his wings and snored 

" It hit cousin willie when he died 

I know when I see one . Rood" 

The squirrel mate shuddered .

As he remembered 

The Coucal thoughtfully sighed 

" You know , I too remember , how he died " 

"He was hit by a car , not rod ."

"No , no , no ." It was long metallic and bloke

The squirrel -mate spoke

"It is black , not bloke , you slow poke "

The silence , Owl broke . 

Now if me  you  will excuse 

I will continue my snooze 

elsewhere . Thank you very much 

And off he flew into the drizzle as such 

" he is right , you know ," 

The coucal furrowed his brow 

"Me too ,

going to look for a drrry aachooo" 

And off he too flew 

Leaving the squirrel pair 

 in confusion -despair 

Squeaking 

speaking 

chasing each other 

down the old tree mother