I saw a butterfly fluttering her wings but she cannot fly. What is stopping her from flying? Has someone tampered with her wings or has she antagonized the Air? Whatever the reason is... one thing is for sure that her life is doomed... Who is to be blamed for that? Probably no one... Like all good things, it also has to end some day...

Those colorful days of her life when she would flutter from one flower to the other.. those sweet sights she encountered... Looking back on those days, she realizes that she was not happy even then. She always craved for someone to share the fun she is having.. Her fun and her happiness was incomplete without that elusive someone.. And thats how her dream for that elusive someone materialized...

With this dream entering in her life, she found a new happiness.... a new world where there are no adversities.. but only possibilities... no one to depend upon, no one to worry of, no boundaries of the corporeal world...she could go where she pleased, do what she wished...be what she wanted to be. And there was just no holding back.

When she was younger she used to play in the garden. She would glide over the grass, fly up to the flowers, taste their sweetness, their intoxicating fragrance, go into nooks and corners where no one could go. See things no one would see. She was fearless, not bothered about getting her wings clipped or her fragile body hurt. At times she would just lie quietly near the pond, soaking up the sun and enjoying the tranquil waters. Then all of a sudden she would get up, lap at the water playfully, tease the tiny fish underneath the surface. When it was dark, she would come home tired and weary eyed and quietly go to sleep.

There was no one to share her joys and sorrows, yet she was content. Content in exploring the world around her, amusing herself with things in her surroundings. But not any more. She was tired of the grass, of the flowers, of the waters and of all else that was there. She craved for company. Sadly she had none.

My daughter, my butterfly would be 17 tomorrow. For 17 years I have watched her grow, transform herself from that tiny fragile doll to a 17 year old beautiful girl. She was 1 when she first tried catching hold of my finger. By the time she was 3 she had learnt to gently tug at my trousers and asked to be hauled up in my arms. She would then curl up against my shoulders and go to sleep. When she was 7 she would run to me, grab my finger and take me to her room to show me her drawings. And when she was 10 she brought me flowers from the garden. When she was 14 she would read me the papers and tell of all that had happened throughout the day.

But most of the times, I hardly got to see her awake. My professional committments ensured that I got to spend very little time with her. But whenever I did, she never gave me a chance to feel guilty. Every time she cuddled up as if she had never gone out of my arms. She never asked me why I couldnt stay with her any longer but made sure that every single moment I stayed with her was special. She never enquired if we could stay at a place forever so that she could make friends, live life to the fullest but everytime I was transferred, she took to the new environs like fish to water, effortlessly. She never asked me for a Barbie doll but the ones that I gave her, she prized forever.

But lately... lately things had changed. She no longer had that spring in her step...that glint in her eyes.... that eagerness in her gait. She had started to sit there quietly, preoccupied with her thoughts, oblivious of the hustle around her...completely lost in her dreams.

Her countenance had that touch of melancholy that you wouldnt expect a girl of her age. It was as if she had resigned herself and got confined in the world of her dreams...but once in a while she would show signs of smiling...show a feeling of placid content. As if she had discovered an oasis. But then oases are few and far between, even in dreams. So almost immediately she would relapse into melancholia as if waking up from a slumber. And I wouldnt help but watch her quietly, not knowing what to do.

Contd...