C'est La Vie....

Have you ever really seen a butterfly? I know we have all SEEN them, but how many of us have actually seen one.

I'm not a nature lover myself. In fact if truth be told, I detest nature! Things like earthworms, bugs and cockroaches do NOT fascinate me. I consider air-conditioning to be my natural atmosphere. The first time I tried to admire a tree, a bird did its morning business RIGHT on top of my head! Yeah, nature? NOT a big fan. But I was watching this documentary on T.V. on butterflies. They are so beautiful, so serene. Their different colors blend together, the symmetry of their colors is profound, a perfect example of form and function, till a gentle breeze blows and they fly up, lighter than air, into the endless horizon, in a hurry to get where, no one knows......

Anirban cheated on me. Actually the cheating had started long ago, but as they say, 'Ignornace is bliss.' I was brought out of my bliss when I saw him in a cosy embrace with this girl I had never seen before! I could not stop the tears from flowing, right outside a movie hall! In a public place! People like me just don't do that!! But then again, you do not expect your boy friend of three years with another girl! I thought things like that only happen in movies.

The conversation we had was a lively one. He kept looking at me, with his jaw dropping to the floor, as though I was an alien who had just landed from Mars! His silence was good, I had the opportunity to yell and scream and give him (and the people around us) more than a piece of my mind. Then I walked off in a huff and told him never to try and contact me EVER again.....

.....which of course, being a man, he did. He also told me how much he loved me and how he had made a huge mistake. I was too angry, the tears would not stop. I would think of all the times we had spent together and every happy moment when I thought he actually loved me. The pain is unbearable. It is like trying to pull your still beating heart right out of your chest....

If I did that I think Ronnie, my eight year old cousin, would love it. "Horror is big nowadays." he tells me. He also loves talking about his pet dog's diarrhoea problems in graphic detail. I wonder if I could feed him something particularly nasty (the dog, not Ronnie) and then send Anirban an early birthday present! Hmmmm.....no, I'm not in kindergarten.

I will just send him a bomb!

I was moping around the house looking like one of those 'before' photographs in those make-up advertisements when my editor called, "There is this beautiful town on the border of West Bengal and Bangladesh not known by too many people." "Great!" I had thought. When a place is 'not known by many people' it implies that it has no functional sewage disposal system. So I was hardly thrilled that he had chosen me as the photographer to accompany the journalist. Apparently there was some infiltration by refugees or something, which was causing the local people problems and was turning out into a centre for disaster. As usual our editor wanted to be the first to know. I decided to take lots of toilet paper, mosquito repellent and my camera and head out to this place. At least I will have company. And I need to forget about this place for a while. Everything reminds me of Anirban and if I cry any more, the swelling of my eyes will refuse to subside and Ronnie keeps talking about the lead role in his horror movie! Seriously, what are they feeding kids these days?

It is horrible, just horrible. The brutality of man. The refugee situation is way bigger than anyone told us. And this town is worst hit. The locals of nearby villages have taken matters into their own hands. They are killing people left right and centre without caring about nationality. And what for? This town has no electricity, no running water. If you ask me there should be a problem of people trying to get out, not in. The people are in a pitiable state. What is happening?

The past few days have been hell. Last night news of further refugee infiltration reached us. The army arrived today with a single battalion and has surrounded the area. They want to control the situation, they say. The commander has a huge moustache. I have to use a wider frame lens to accomodate it. He keeps talking about how he would kill a refugee on sight, how they are all spies for Pakistan. I asked him how much toilet paper he had brought. I think I will be the first to go, before the refugees.

I do not know what day it is. Things have been continuing at a hectic pace. People keep moving around and gunfire and shouting occur at regular intervals. I am stuck in the guest house as I am not allowed to leave it. The journalist had gone out in the morning and has not returned yet. I don't know what to do, I'm very scared. Mr. Long Moustache has disappeared. He no longer comes to give me updates.

I am lying on a hospital bed in the government hospital of the nearest town. The last thing that I remember is that there was a loud, persistent banging on the door of the guest house and then the people with torches and knives came bursting in. After that I do not remember much. I have major stitches and my left arm and leg is in a cast. The doctor does not tell me much. My family is here. My mother keeps crying. Everything is very hazy, I think I am on some powerful painkillers. even Ronnie is crying an he watches horror movies. I guess I must look really bad. I keep drifting in and out of consciousness, so days are hard to figure out. Anirban is not here.

The doctor told my parents that I could be moved back home. He was speaking to them in a low voice, I could not hear much. My mom seems to have taken up crying as a full time vocation. My medication seems to have been increased. I cannot feel the pen I'm writing with. I was looking outside the window just now and saw the most wonderful thing. A beautiful, purple butterfly flew in with the wind. It had purple and dark blue and red colors on its wings. It flew around the room and went out again. It is time to go home. I wonder if it will come back.