Note: First, I am not a writer and this is not a fiction. There are bound to be grammatical mistakes and amateurish writing skills but I reassert that I am not a writer. What prompted this story was my terrible review on another writer’s story and the requests on Sajha ShoutBox that followed from discontented readers of my comment. Only when writing this story did I realize how difficult it can be to actually write one and my sincere apologies to whomever I have offended, including the writer of the story I mentioned.

Lastly, please feel free to put comments and I am open to any sincere feedback from the readers.

The girl with whom I caught dragonflies

Fortune fades. Relationships fade, and so do memories. It’s hard to describe what I felt when I arrived at Rampur Campus. I am six years old and tired due to the six-hour trip from Kathmandu. My calves are aching and I tell my sister and she teases me for having weak calves. Tired, I sit down on the veranda of our new house in the sweltering heat. The view is peculiar. There are mango trees on the garden, a papaya tree near the tap-water fountain, and empty fields surrounding us—which mom would later use to plant potatoes, tomatoes and vegetables I am not fond of at that point in my life. I also notice other houses in my neighborhood, probably 200 feet apart from each other, forming the peculiar corners of a rectangle. It’s getting dark and from the sounds of children playing hide-and-seek, the croaking of the frogs and the chirping of the crickets, I can discern a buzzing noise of wings flapping coming from a distance.

Oh yes, the dragonflies! I notice the dragonflies hovering over the grasses in the dusk and they look beautiful. My calves are hurting and I am tempted to grab hold of one of those dragonflies. Never a fan of insects, I do not know why I want to catch the dragonflies but I start hatching a sadistic plan. Sitting on that veranda, my mind has come across the idea of catching the dragonflies. After a while, my mind has developed a devilish scheme of first catching the dragonflies and then tying their tails with a thread from my mom’s sewing kit and letting them fly. “That’s exactly what I am going to do,” I think to myself. The dragonfly will be like a kite I have so dreamed of flying. The idea prints itself to my memory. (Little did I realize before writing this story what an excruciating pain it must be when someone is pinning your butt).

Fortune fades. Let me first explain why we are at Rampur. Dad recently transferred as a lecturer to Rampur campus. He taught Agricultural sciences at Lamjung Campus before that. I miss the house in Lamjung, the ones built with stones, and the black tar-like lining bordering the stones—giving the house a quasi-castle-esque architecture. The houses in Rampur are built with bricks and I do not like brick houses. (My longing to live in a stone house still makes me nostalgic today.)

Now, let me digress a bit about my calves. It’s during my first trip to Rampur I realize that my calves are my weaknesses, congruous to Achilles’ heel. Dad loves to walk and having traveled almost all over the country, has grown really strong calves. I envy them as I ruminate about catching dragonflies sitting in the veranda. One day I want to travel like dad and grow strong calves, I think to myself. That night, my calves are aching and I tell my parents and they also tease me for having weak calves. After a while, I soundly fall asleep.

Next morning, I start hunting down on the dragonflies. Mom calls me over to tag along with her to pay a visit to Radha aunty, one of our neighbors and mom tells me she’s known her before but I do not care and I tell my sister that I want to catch dragonflies. We visit Radha aunty and she introduces me to her daughter. Then, there she is!! I am looking at the most intriguing girl I have ever met. She was not the most beautiful of girls I had seen, but suffice to say, the pulchritude of innocence radiating from her face fulfilled what she seemed to be lacking from her beauty. I tell myself this is the girl I want to catch dragonflies with. We smile, awkward silence follows later to be broken by mom and Radha aunty’s jabbering. Breaking the ice, I muster enough courage to ask her if she wants to catch dragonflies with me. “Do you want to catch dragonflies?” She smiles and runs away. Sadly enough, I am back in the grass fields hunting dragonflies.

Now, there are certain rules about catching dragonflies that you have to understand. Catching a dragonfly is an art in itself. It requires a great deal of patience and finesse that are both inherent and acquired. You never want to catch it by its tail, which, first of all is impossible due to the needle-like thickness of the tail. Second, grabbing the tail prompts the dragonfly to bend forward and kick in its survival instincts to nibble on your skin. The best way to catch a dragonfly is by its wings. You sneak up from somewhere, hoping it does not see you with its compound eyes and forming a small gap between your thumb and forefinger, clasp onto one of the wings as fast as possible. Then, you grab the other wing and prevent it from biting.

Days have passed by and I haven’t caught a single fly. Watching me beat myself to death in the sun, one day the girl comes and offers to help. “Can I join you?” I nod, wondering if she’s realized what she is putting herself into. Within minutes and to my horror, my masculinity is questioned. She catches one dragonfly and in joy starts jumping, taunting, “I got one, I got one.” This girl is very skillful at catching dragonflies. “She’s an artist,” I think to myself. “We need a string” I tell her and run back to my house and bring a long thread from my mom’s sewing kit. We tie the string to the dragonfly’s tail and let it free and run after it. We catch the string and let go and run after the string to catch it again. (Apparently, such an exercise seemed to be very enjoyable when you are six.) We catch more flies and repeat the process for hours and my calves start hurting. My calves are hurting and I tell her and she teases me for having weak calves.

The good thing about summer in Rampur is that schools open early in the morning and we get to leave by noon. Summer passes by catching dragonflies of different sizes and colors. Towards the end, we learn to catch what she’s dubbed the ‘Rani,’ huge red dragonflies with thick tails and mouth so big that their bite leaves a painful mark on you. Rani(s) are very rare to be seen in the grass fields and are swift and usually fly high, making them almost impossible to catch. To my astonishment, one day she finally catches one. My masculinity is questioned again, but the joy has overshadowed my pride. The summer has culminated into something worth remembering. We tie the Rani’s tail with a stronger string and I run and the girl with whom I catch dragonflies follows. Eventually my calves hurt and I tell her and we stop.

Dashain is around the corner and we go to Kathmandu for the holidays. I learn to fly a kite during Dashain and I enjoy it very much, but miss the dragonflies. We return to Rampur. Summer fades away and so do the dragonflies. The early-morning to noon school has turned into a torturous nine to four schedule as usual and we do not catch dragonflies anymore. In fact, we, I and the girl with whom I caught dragonflies, become distant. She wants to play this hopping game with a stone and lines on the floor. I resist, priding my masculinity. Things have started to change and I can feel it. I want to play table tennis in our porch, jump off mango trees and steal watermelons from the neighbors. She doesn’t enjoy that. I learn to play football and she learns to do more tricks on that hopping game with the lines and the stone. She’s mastered another one, with sweeping different number of pebbles from the ground while tossing one in the air. I play the game a few times but again my masculinity is questioned and I run back to stealing watermelons from the neighbors.

Fortune fades. We are leaving Rampur. I am very excited. Dad is going to graduate school in the US and we are going to follow. I do not remember saying goodbye. I do not remember my farewell to the girl with whom I caught dragonflies. What I do remember is as follows…I am nine years old and the trip back to Kathmandu is six hours long and my calves are aching. The pain is unbearable and that night I cannot sleep. It is midnight and my calves are aching and I do not tell anyone. Instead, I weep, silently.

…The End…

Thank you for reading. Peace.

Fantastic!

I too have caught dragonflies, but never tied a string to it’s tail()or done anything eerie as such. But there was this boy in my neighborhood with whom I caught dragonflies. He had dirty legs. Dunno why he never washed them. He had long legs and used to wear half pants( but it was way above half…. like really short, almost 5 inches long) and he used to run here and there exposing his dirty and long legs, and still his masculinity never got questioned. Maybe he wasn’t masculine at all. So he used to come to my house every evening, with a jar, to catch dragonflies. Some he used to put in the jar and some he used to kill..like he used to catch either of it’s wing and pull it apart and tear the fly into two parts. I stayed patient for some days but he wouldn’t stop doing that, so one day I snatched his jar , flew the flies and hit him hard with his jar on his head. Since then he has never come to my house again, has never talked to me and I believe, hasn’t caught any dragonflies either.

Btw, do you still have weak calves?

Reminded me of this song by Greenday ---Whatsername!!

I saw you in my dream FF. You were asking me out for coffee (AGAIN)...LOLZ