The big doleful eyes were filled with fear. As it watched the tongues lapping up hungrily, every scrap, every morsel. For weeks it had struggled with its brethren, to survive, but now the end was certain. Why did he not leave for greener pastures like the smart ones? Why did his bonds shackle him to his home, to his community?
It seemed like a far away dream when the earth heaved under another burden… a curse of plenty… a curse of plenty of water. In his collective consciousness, he recalled the incessant rainfall, the endless deluge! It was indeed a miracle that some of them survived. If he closed his eyes, he could see the bodies being swept away, in a spate of merciless, angry stream, a river of masses, of all kinds and all species, the anger of the crashing waters outdoing the cries of those that drowned.
The tears in their eyes, seemed to further increase, the swollen rivers. There was no respite!
For months now, there had been no rains, no water, no moisture. Every leaf, every blade turned from green, to yellow, to golden and brown. The trees lifted their arms to their Merciful creator, as their verdant, lush foliage, crumpled, withered, and slowly drifted to their graves, in the brown arms of Mother Earth! The green grass lost its sap to the rising temperature, knowing it has a short life alas! The naked trees, shamelessly stood, sending their roots deep into the belly of the parched earth, looking for secret springs and hidden wells.
The sweet melody of their tenants soon dwindled. The mellifluous song was replaced with painful cries. And the bustle of marching feet. The young ones had to be cared for, life had to be preserved… and so they moved on, by the hundreds.
But he did not, could not. Survival of the fittest they said. And he was not the fittest. Getting older and having injured himself while leaping over the stream one day, to avoid becoming crocodile meal, he was left behind.
He watched the hungry beast, forking its mighty orange tongue, surreptitiously moving forward, swallowing the helpless, innocents becoming its prey. He did not want to give up, without trying. He moved steadily backwards. As fast as his healing leg would allow.
That time long ago, when water wreaked havoc, it was man, a single man, his wife, and his sons, who came to the rescue. They created a huge boat, to keep them afloat, keep them safe. When the Merciful, showed no mercy, they hung on and prayed for dry days… bereft of the continuous deluge!
And now they prayed for respite, from the heat, the bone-dry weather and hellish Earth’s surface.
As he kept moving back, bleating in fear and pain, he felt cool, calm, dampness, gently surrounding him. He turned his head, his gaze locked with the kindest soul, who held him in his arms, swathed in precious watery comfort. Water gently trickled down his mouth, as the dry, singed gullet was gently irrigated. The dry, swollen tongue tasted manna. He found himself in the company of many more of his brethren, like at the dawn of time, when they sought respite. Then they sought a dry corner, while now they hoped to escape the dry, destruction of a forest fire. Life was such!
