A Spider, Ants and an Angry Crow

What happens when you follow a little child to the top of a mountain…

IRATICA

Last morning, I was on an island. Not marooned. To tell you the truth, it wasn’t an island at all. But, when you are with an almost five-year-old, with a fertile imagination, a mound of soil in the middle of a dewy green patch of grass, on the eastern side of a large garden, is instantly transformed into one. Ira stood right in the middle of the mound, and spreading her little hands wide declared, “This is our island.” Walkers turned around. Joggers stopped in their tracks. If anybody had any doubts about the ownership of the island, there was crystal clear clarity now.  I smiled sheepishly. “Do you like our island?” she asked me. “Oh, yes, it’s lovely,” I replied, not quite able to accept the unexpected takeover of a tract of land, without having to pay hefty EMIs. So what if it wasn’t surrounded by water? I was…

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About thesepeoplehere

Amateur birder, book-stalker, interpreter of melodies, naturalist, writer-watcher, spice sorcerer, doodler, walker, yoga teacher, struggling novelist...
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