Rain. Pitter patter of tiny splotches. Tip. tip tap. They mesmerize me. There is a poetry in the way they seem to fall. Sometimes gentle like an faded memory, some times insistent like a burning desire. Harsh as anger and impervious as rock. Rain, it sometimes acts as a curtain, sometimes a door, Enshrouds sometimes, and sometimes, turns you naked.
Rain has a way with me.
Isn’t it ironic then that until a few months ago, I had never encountered this phenomenon?
I sit immobile, with an unblinking eye, observe this rain. Does it have a life of few minutes? From cloud to the ground.. Or does it go on and on, recycled?
I can’t believe anyone could let this miracle go unnoticed. May be they are so used to it that its no longer exciting. I slide a little towards that transparent boundary that defines my limits, my home away from home. I want to see how that little blob of sunshine glitters and then disappears.
And before I know, there is this huge commotion. Cameras flash. People cheer. I am taken aback and stumble. Having so many legs sometimes is a pain.
“Woohoo! Look what the clouds have brought with them. Tasty morsel!!”
Nothing can settle my frazzled nerves as food. My human is good that way.
And you know what? The other day I could see some other octopus kept in luxury as I am, in something they call as television. I wish I could meet him. I have started a kin ship with him now. Every time I am fed now, I can see him selecting a particular box. I do the same. Then we both look at each other across all the flashes and grin.
May be, he can see me too, the way I see him. It gets lonely sometimes.
The other day, I was out of sorts. You know these things happen. Its lovely to be fed and given attention but one feels lonely, home sick and all. No , I am not complaining but I wanted to do something different.
I now knew every corner of this enclosure. And it didnt rain. I had nothing to look out for. Humans, though exciting initially are so predictably same all the time! So well, I tried to talk to that other octopus. But he wouldn’t do anything but the same. Go towards the same kind of box. I was like what the hell! I will select the other one. It was just so colorful!
But nothing changed. My life was so mundane!
Little did I know that something had changed. The next time they brought my food, there was a new color. I was of two minds, should I try a new color? But then I was confused. The octopus friend of mine was now choosing the color I did. May be that was a gesture of respect ?
I decided to reciprocate and choose the same color. Then I looked at him. He grinned like he always does.
Oh yes. He liked it.
And that, my friends, was the story about Paul the Octopus and Football