My Goldfish Thumbelina

She was on the dining table when I came home from work- swimming in her bowl, mouth opening and closing in quick succession, a quizzical expression on her face. My maid told me that she had arrived by courier, accompanied by a card from a doctor whom I had met at a party. Apparently he was opening his clinic in our locality, and this was part of a very innovative PR exercise.

My husband was delighted to see her as he had wanted a pet for a long time. I, for my part, hated the idea of captive animals, and couldn't help feeling sorry for her. A fish-enthusiast friend advised us against releasing her since such fishes are bred in captivity, and might die in open waters. That statement and my husband’s apparent excitement settled the matter. We both assumed that she was a she, and named her Thumbelina. Every morning I would put Thumbelina’s five pellets of food in the water, which she would watch with initial suspicion but finish off by the evening. She was afraid of us and would swim away frantically whenever we’d come close to her side of the bowl. She seemed rather forlorn; I often felt like talking to her to give her company, but then would stop myself thinking it was a crazy idea.

Whenever my husband was at home, he would stand next to the bowl and observe her, at times commenting that she was overfed and had a paunch, and at times wondering whether she was in a bad mood. Within a week, even he started to feel that Thumbelina was lonely. So we bought another goldfish, and poured them together into a big tank. The new fish was conveniently assumed to be a he and named what else, but Tom Thumb. We now imagined that they were happy to have each other, and soon there would be little fish swimming about in the tank. But this fairy tale was short lived- one morning we found Tom Thumb floating on his back, eyes filmed over, and Thumbelina at one corner of the tank, looking at Tom Thumb with that ever present bewilderment on her face.

Tom Thumb had gone, and with him had left my peace of mind. I would lie awake every night, thinking about Thumbelina- alone, trapped and stifled in her glass world, knowing what every tomorrow would bring. There was no endless sky when she looked up, nor deep waters below. Every way that she went, she would have to face a glass wall and turn back. I wondered how much I was like Thumbelina- a small town child in a big city, bewildered by the traffic, the exhaust smoke and concrete structures all around. Perched high up in a flat which only showed the promise of the earth and the greenery and the skies outside, but never brought them close enough to touch or hold. Both Thumbelina and I were trapped in an alien world, swimming in the same place just to keep our sanity.

But at least it had been a conscious choice for me, one made to live with a companion who cherished and loved me. For Thumbelina, there was never an option, her world constricted by someone who liked to see pretty fish in a house. Every time I looked at her, I felt horribly guilty.

Now, it so happens that I’ve had the rare luck of being blessed with a perceptive husband, who never waits for me to put things into words. One day we were planning a weekend picnic to a river nearby, and he suddenly offered that we could let her go in those waters. I hugged him in relief and happiness, and ran to tell Thumbelina the great news.

That Saturday morning I fed her the last meal she would ever have with us, and the three of us drove to the river. We walked into the water, looking for a safe place for her. I saw a dark and shallow nook with a school of small fish, and poured her out over there. She swam about joyously for sometime and then disappeared somewhere; we waited for her to come back up, but she never did.

I came out of the water and lay down, reveling in my happiness, in the beauty all around me. I wondered whether she would die in these waters like my friend had said, but the thought did not bother me- if she died, it would be a happy death. And in a sudden rush of revelation, like a light that had turned on in a hidden corner of my mind, I knew it. If I ever had a choice of how to die, then this would be it- in this heaven, surrounded by wild flowers, trees and bushes, nothing but the rough, cool ground touching my body. The smell of the wet earth in each breath, the sounds of birds, crickets and running water in my ears, the sky in my eyes, and a smile on my face. It would all come together in one precious moment, like a symphony, making me want to laugh, cry, pray. And then I would become one, one with nature, with the earth, with my element.

The Walker

It was a Friday night, and we had finished a late and heavy weekend dinner. My husband had plonked himself down in front of the TV, refusing to budge even an inch. The night outside was cool and tempting, and I decided to step out alone for a walk.

The compound around my apartment complex is around half a kilometre in circumference and has trees lining it all along, creating a breezy and pleasant track for walkers and joggers. It seemed like I was the only one out- hardly anyone was visible, apart from the security men at the entrance gate. I took a right towards the basketball hoop set up for the resident's kids, and moved on to the rear pathway of the compound.

I enjoyed my solitary stroll, breathing in the scented air from the flowering trees, till I heard footsteps behind. Great, another crazy one out at this time. I could see the shadow of the walker behind me, the sound of the footsteps almost in synch with mine. I expected him to overtake me sooner or later, and my thoughts drifted. When I reached the front of the compound again, I realized that my fellow walker was not behind me anymore. I gave it no more thought, thinking that he might have taken one of the small side doors into the building. Greeting the security men as I passed, I decided to walk another round.

We had just got married and moved into our rented flat, and my mind was constantly occupied by thoughts of the next piece of furniture or fabric to buy for our new home. As I approached the rear walkway again, I was thinking of visiting the nearest store for bed-sheets and foot-.....those footsteps! I looked down at the ground, and the shadow was there again! What had been a pleasant realization of having company in my first round now turned into something different- when did he come back? I walked on, an unknown feeling of dread in me not letting me look back, and the shadow never overtaking me. I looked to the right, at the balconies and windows of the flats, to see if there was anyone in sight. There was no one, and most of the lights were off. I looked to the left, at the high wall of the compound and the buildings behind it. Not a soul in sight. I looked down at the shadow again, and imagined it catching up with me, closer and closer by the minute...was that the wind, or it's breath on my shoulder?!

I had broken out into a cold sweat now and was almost at a half jog. I tried to imagine who it might be behind me. No, with the shadow looming behind, never catching up, but always there- the question was not who, but what?! Someone who had died here? A dead cousin? A long gone friend? Why was it coming behind me? Did it want to tell me something? Or did it…no, no, not that! Images flashed in my mind- images of a horrible death, of my mangled body being discovered in the morning, hanging from a tree, or maybe lying on the roof of one of the parked cars. The shrieks of the discoverer, my husband in tears, calling my parents, not knowing what to tell them. I blamed myself for coming out so late in the night, blamed my luck, blamed us for moving into this flat. My bladder was bursting with my fear now, and I had tears in my eyes. Why God, why me?! I had done no wrong to anyone!

As I approached the end of the pathway, something inside me snapped. I had to turn around and face it! I had to know! I abruptly turned, a whirlwind of possible images flooding my mind, till my eyes focused. As if in slow motion, I saw the thing behind me smile and greet me, and then turn away. Starting his beat back to the other end of the path, to his obscure bench hidden behind the bushes, was the watchman for the rear compound.