Zara woke up to a scary sight at the first rays of dawn. Still sitting on the step, her feet dipped in water, her head tilted to the left, her left cheek resting on the flat of her palm; she had dozed off the night before in deep contemplation. Before long, a sudden drone broke her sleep. As if a chopper was approaching her from the rear and then, a couple . . . a dozen . . . a hundred and more . . .
Hmmmmm! came the buzz, growing louder by the second.
Zara turned back from the river to the flight of steps, climbing down from the promenade. Swarms of giant worms and little crawlies came creeping down towards the river from the rise above. Soon, every square inch of the steps was covered by creatures in green, and yellow, and black, and brown, and red, each larger than the other—ants by the billions, caterpillars, earthworms, houseflies, bees, butterflies, dragonflies, grasshoppers, frogs, and lizards. Every worm, every creature in millions after millions, in wave after wave, crawling down the steps, each little worm trying to outpace the other, pushing one to the other aside.
Soon, the sky, too, filled up with swarms clouding the Peacock Ridge and the Moonshine Mount on the bank across rising above the Ah!nandita Hills, darkening the sky in broad daylight, as the buzz grew louder and louder and louder.
‘They are going to crawl all over me,’ Zara shivered in panic, her peach-red face turned pale. She shut her eyes tight and tucked her face into her arms crossed over her knees, her head reeling from the buzz.
Finally, when she came around and lifted her head, it was quiet again. A sweet, musical voice loomed over her shoulder. ‘Rest easy, folks. Focus within yourself. Gather your wits. It’s time for lessons,’ whispered the giant butterfly.
And then, she heard a domineering command, ‘Do not rest your eyes on what you see around. Do not seek the external manifestation of what really is within. Seek the silence of your soul, seek the wisdom of your heart,’ the monitor lizard strutted about, inspecting and instructing.
Zara looked around. The giant butterfly fluttered overhead as the rest of the creatures settled quietly on the steps, at elbow distance from Zara, sparing just enough space to turn her head around. The old and the infirm were still on the promenade, peering down at the river. The young and the agile had settled on the lower steps, next to Zara. A couple of youngsters lazed around at the top among the laggards, while a few able-bodied among the elders sat by the waterside.
Zara noticed the frog who had led her to the steps, at a distance, sitting in silent contemplation, an eye still on her, but unmindful of the creatures that would otherwise make for a feast any other time. The monitor lizard sat right behind her on the step above. Only the butterflies still fluttered, in silence, spreading radiance in the sky that looked so violently scary not so long ago. On the bank across the river, the tittiris had parked themselves in a single row on the first step from the river at the feet of the Ah!nandita Hills, pecking at the red fig seeds from the banyan tree scattered all over. Nearby, a couple of swans courted each other, as did two vain peacocks strutting from here to there, flaunting their rich, colourful plumes. A crocodile basked in the sunshine at a distance, brooding over a batch of eggs. And the river, its clear green water, flowed between the banks.
Zara looked deep into the water. Giant mahseers meditated in stillness even as the water rushed over them at high velocity.
And she rested her chin in the cusp of her palms that, in turn, rested on her elbows that rested on her thighs.
‘It’s so quiet and peaceful around. The creatures are so calm. Then, why the mad scramble?’ Zara wondered. And she thought, and thought, and thought . . . delving deep within, when unnoticed by her, the river stopped her flow.
‘Good morning, Rivah! Wish us well,’ the creatures bowed, chanting aloud, together.
‘Good morning! Wish you well, dear life,’ the river replied. And then, rising in a gigantic wave, she sang:
I know not how to bow, O Rivah!
Please teach me how to bend.
‘I know not how to bow, O Rivah! Please teach me how to bend,’ all the creatures joined in chorus. And the butterflies danced, and the crickets chirped, and the dragonflies hovered their wings, and the bees buzzed aloud, and the lizards strummed air guitars, while the caterpillars and the earthworms and the rest took to the floor. From the top, on the promenade, the elephant blew his trumpet as the air filled with joy and cheer.
Zara jumped up from where she had been sitting.
‘I know not how to bow, O Rivah! Please teach me how to bend,’ she sang, going around in a whirl, her hands raised to shoulder height, outstretched, on the water’s edge.