Monday, November 7, 2011

The 45th thing. The Dragon Warrior

No, I'm not talking about Po, the kung fu panda that kicks butt and leaves us laughing in splits. I'm talking about The Dragon Warrior who illegally flew into my room.
I was preparing intently on my report about a paper that we have to submit in two days, when there was a persistent droning sort of noise. I allowed it to distract me and the first thing that I realized was that it was the flutter of an insect's wings. Second immediate thing that I realized was that it was too loud to be a cockroach's. Sigh of relief. Then what insect was it? A dragonfly. It was making a desperate noise in search of god knows what endeavor. And it had no business being in my room when I was busy. My room's door was open, so was the door to the terrace, so it was either too dumb to piss off or its sole intention was to annoy me. I'm the more evolved of the two, so I got back to working on my report.
As if fluttering incessantly near the tube light wasn't enough, it started to move about the room. It fell behind my laptop, immediately shot up to the fan, got hit by the blade once (thak!), twice (thakagain!), swirled above my head three times counter clockwise, fell near the printer and rummaged about near Rakshith's guitar. I knew that it would be after me next, I have a strange intuition about these things. And sure enough, it found its way near my table, and flew up from underneath it and sat on my stomach. I looked down at it. It looked up at me. Supremely disgusted, I slowly got up from the chair and the damned insect took off again. Then I knew what I had to do.
I calmly when down the stairs, reached the hall and picked up my badminton raquet that was lying on the sofa after my cousin had finished admiring it. I've seldom felt that sense of purpose, the sense of purpose I felt when I picked up my weapon by the handle. The racquet melded into my hand and we were one. No warrior could've felt this confident, this calm, this purposeful; not even a spartan with his bloody sword. I informed my mother who was probably watching Uttaran on Colours that there was a dragonfly in my room and that I was going to do something about it. I walked up the stairs, I could hear my enemy fluttering, and just when I entered  the room the fluttering stopped. Where was the damn thing now.
It was innocently sitting near the tube light, as though impervious to mundane problems. I was a bit annoyed. In my head, I gloriously swung the racket in a single handed Federer-backhand and blasted the damn dragonfly out of my room and out through the terrace door in one fluid motion. All in slow-mo. But it was up near the tube light. I disturbed it, prodding it with my racquet. It didn't fly away alarmed and panicked. It just lazily shifted its position slightly and stayed there. Fine, if you want it that way, I thought to myself, and sat back down to write the report, only I'm writing this post now. The weapon's at hand, and I am ready to spring into action.

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