The Red Crab Clan

The clan of red crabs dwell peacefully and proudly across the sandy beach. The brown sandy spread appears to be dotted by their presence. The farthest extent to which your eyes can help on the sands, the red crabs keep running here and there and everywhere. They mark their presence so profoundly that it is implicit to say that the clan governs this beach.

Reverie and Revera, the queen and the king, rule their clan of red crabs here. They ensure that everyone of them is safe and guarded against any threats from enemies. They are dwelling in the state-of-the-art tunnels under the sand. Humans are still far away from expertise in building such architectures. How complex is the network of tunnels beneath, this only Shambhu knows. Shambhu, he is a human. He is the chief fisherman in the area. He never stops praising to his fellow men about the beauty of the red crab clan and the mesmerism that dwells below the sand in the complex network of tunnels. 

Reverie and Revera, they are always alert against any unusual human intervention. The moment a vibration is detected, the clan blows a trumpet of escape. The crabs would run away like anything. A commotion so contiguous that it appears a whole red patch on the ground is moving. One cannot spot exactly where Reverie and Revera are, but they are always monitoring the commotion. In sense of urgency, they run towards the red patch in danger and lead them to safety. Shambhu is very sharp. He seems to know a lot about these red crabs. When he is not fishing, he voluntarily enlightens tourists of these red crabs. I met Shambhu too, and he ensured that I remember my encounter with red crabs forever.

Soon after the sun ascended from the belly of the sea, Shambhu called me to the beach for a stroll. The sea waves were doing justice that day, and kept embracing our footsteps constantly as we walked. The red crab clan seemed busy in their daily routine to bathe in the chilly waves. Our footsteps alerted them soon and they chose to skip the bathing. Shambhu spoke of Reverie and Revera, that they must be watching both of us and the red patches running away in commotion.

“I am afraid of crabs, don’t they bite?”, I asked.

“You are afraid of crabs? These red crabs?” asked Shambhu surprisingly.

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me help you with your fear”, assured Shambhu.

I defer to share the drama that followed. But it happened. And at the end, I surrendered to Shambhu. I held a red one softly in my hand, careful enough that it doesn’t bite or pinch my fingers. The moment I released him on the sand, he ran fervently towards the sea.

I am sure Reverie and Revera would have watched this too from one of the many red patches around. I hope they were gratified that I handled one of their fellow with love and care. I hope the red crab clan would remember me like I am going to remember them forever.

PS: This post is part of a fiction that I weaved while taking a stroll on a chilly Februrary morning near Mohona Beach, West Bengal.

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Available For Rent in the Clouds

In the dense fog around, hardly anything to be seen. As if the whole surrounding is floating in the clouds. But I can see my small apartment soaked in the fog.

Yes, this is the one where I spent my last night.

My view is very much restricted. To be able to see some more, I need to muster courage and walk towards it, and then I can see the next restricted view unfold.

Birds have given up on laziness and are chirping while they work. They are chirping somewhere but nowhere to be seen. Insects are not behind, and they are competing the birds with the continuous buzzing in the bushes engulfed in the mist.

Trees sway intermittently, as the wind gushes through. And an ambience of drizzle is created by the trees.

Yarn ends in my cloth have been embraced by the fog too, and their lingering love is so enticing that my brisk walking has no effect on them.

As I walk some more, I hear the waves from the sea. There is a sea nearby, but everything is dissolved in the fog.

Only voices from waves I can hear, and my feet are moving obediently towards those voices.

My moving feet stands still as they touch the salty water, intensely cold, moving forward to brush my feet and retracing back.

My eyes which have moistened quickly from the cold, witness a new friend. Very shy and in a hurry to go away after greeting me. But how could I let him leave without his photograph?

This whole ambience is at rent. You come, you stay, and then you pack your bags and leave. It's time for me to leave.

Because neither my monetary affordability allows it, nor allows my workplace, to stay here any longer.

I need to get back to work and face the reality once again.

PS: This is a short tale of my experience at Sana Beach and Resort, Mandarmani, during early cold weeks of February.

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The Constant Incessant

Raw, Wild and Mighty,

Its profusion of emotions,

Untamed incessantly.

With unveiling beauty of the moon,

It churns within and ascends,

As if tripping to a bereft tune.

When the sky shines at night

And stars mischievously party;

Here it roars on its plight.

Men want safety from the wrath,

And hence station the boulders,

Afraid of the devastation at aftermath.

Little does the little men know,

Voluminous insult it has drunken,

Beyond the thresholds of an ideal show.

The angry body had narrated its story

To the skilled oarsmen beating its chest,

And shared how it feels of the spoiling spree.

It warns every now and then,

That it is Raw, Wild and Mighty,

Its profusion of emotions

Untamed incessantly. 

Read about the Amphan of Emotions which led to creation of this post.

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