I have always pondered over aquariums. The transparent surface, the glossy exterior and the clear waters.
The bottom is covered with a layer of golden sand and variegated pebbles.
Often tiny weeds are planted on the sand and they float around precariously in the pristine water.
It is as if there is no layer between the eye and the water.
My existence as such had been a lonely one.
I was trapped in the monotony of life that prevented me from connecting to the outside world. I was limited to living my life in a matchbox-sized apartment, eating meals from a box and typing furiously on the laptop all day.
My talks were restricted to colleagues, a pleasant smile in case I bumped into my neighbour at the gate and talking once a day to my parents about the routine everyday stuff.
Nothing ever transpired to make my life more exciting.
It was an automated clockwork that ran its course the same way.
My weekends were interspersed with the same activities except for some activities taking a bigger share of time.
A sliver of my time was spent in the dissection of my feelings.
I had forgotten to care for anyone around me. It was as if I developed this hardened exterior and could take no nonsense from anyone.
One fine evening, my thoughts reverted to my aquarium.
What if I chose to bring home a tiny fish? Would that be symbolical of my ray of hope? Could I attach my feelings to this speck of a fish that roamed inside the aquarium?
I played with this idea for a while. Was this a good idea to introduce a fish into my ecosystem? I was practically not programmed to handle another life that needed attention and care.
My constitution didn't support frivolity.
But this was my last straw of humanity.
This would mean that I could care for something, feed a mouth, watch it wade through the waters.
I spent more than three hours in the pet shop looking for my perfect companion. I chose a small aquarium and two guppies.
I picked up some filters, weed, sand, coloured stones and everything else the shopkeeper deemed necessary for their survival and well being.
He marketed it so well that for a minute I was gleaming with pride that I made them feel at home.
Armed with my supplies, I reached home.
I cleaned my side table and carefully set up the aquarium. I also placed a warm lamp by the side to give my aquarium a cosy feeling.
I was satisfied with my effort.
I kicked back to see the tiny fish swimming in the waters.
I had put in two pellets of fish food which were floating on top.
What a set life I wondered. These fish were merely used as a bait to end up in someone's home like mine. They were placed in well-lit bowls and taken care of meticulously so that they could be sold to a customer.
No worry about whether they could survive in these cramped glass jails.
The enormity of the ocean was something that could never taste. Their lives were lived in the shackles of these transparent prisons.
Often they become the centre of attention only when they were referenced to as on object of beauty.
They were the jewel in the crown of my loneliness.
I just needed that fish to knock some sanity into my perturbed mind.
I needed some validation from the society that I wasn't alone.
What about them? They are fed at the right time, their filters are cleaned regularly, the weed is trimmed to make enough swimming room,
The oxygen levels are checked and water is changed when it gets filthy.
I mean life is handed to them on a platter.
All they had to do was swim around in circles to keep their sanity.
They would be as lonely, ignored, probably die without ever feeling the brine ocean waters.
They would never break free from these glass walls into the wild when they are adorning our lives.
At this point, who gives whom a better chance at life?
Are we doing the right thing by capturing them from their homes to fill our lives or saving their chance of becoming shark food?
The answer is tricky.
Whatever it may be, whose life is defined by whose presence?
Is my life better because I have a fish to take care of? Or is the fish lucky that he landed up with someone who can take care of him preciously?
The bottom is covered with a layer of golden sand and variegated pebbles.
Often tiny weeds are planted on the sand and they float around precariously in the pristine water.
It is as if there is no layer between the eye and the water.
My existence as such had been a lonely one.
I was trapped in the monotony of life that prevented me from connecting to the outside world. I was limited to living my life in a matchbox-sized apartment, eating meals from a box and typing furiously on the laptop all day.
My talks were restricted to colleagues, a pleasant smile in case I bumped into my neighbour at the gate and talking once a day to my parents about the routine everyday stuff.
Nothing ever transpired to make my life more exciting.
It was an automated clockwork that ran its course the same way.
My weekends were interspersed with the same activities except for some activities taking a bigger share of time.
A sliver of my time was spent in the dissection of my feelings.
I had forgotten to care for anyone around me. It was as if I developed this hardened exterior and could take no nonsense from anyone.
One fine evening, my thoughts reverted to my aquarium.
What if I chose to bring home a tiny fish? Would that be symbolical of my ray of hope? Could I attach my feelings to this speck of a fish that roamed inside the aquarium?
I played with this idea for a while. Was this a good idea to introduce a fish into my ecosystem? I was practically not programmed to handle another life that needed attention and care.
My constitution didn't support frivolity.
But this was my last straw of humanity.
This would mean that I could care for something, feed a mouth, watch it wade through the waters.
I spent more than three hours in the pet shop looking for my perfect companion. I chose a small aquarium and two guppies.
I picked up some filters, weed, sand, coloured stones and everything else the shopkeeper deemed necessary for their survival and well being.
He marketed it so well that for a minute I was gleaming with pride that I made them feel at home.
Armed with my supplies, I reached home.
I cleaned my side table and carefully set up the aquarium. I also placed a warm lamp by the side to give my aquarium a cosy feeling.
I was satisfied with my effort.
I kicked back to see the tiny fish swimming in the waters.
I had put in two pellets of fish food which were floating on top.
What a set life I wondered. These fish were merely used as a bait to end up in someone's home like mine. They were placed in well-lit bowls and taken care of meticulously so that they could be sold to a customer.
No worry about whether they could survive in these cramped glass jails.
The enormity of the ocean was something that could never taste. Their lives were lived in the shackles of these transparent prisons.
Often they become the centre of attention only when they were referenced to as on object of beauty.
They were the jewel in the crown of my loneliness.
I just needed that fish to knock some sanity into my perturbed mind.
I needed some validation from the society that I wasn't alone.
What about them? They are fed at the right time, their filters are cleaned regularly, the weed is trimmed to make enough swimming room,
The oxygen levels are checked and water is changed when it gets filthy.
I mean life is handed to them on a platter.
All they had to do was swim around in circles to keep their sanity.
They would be as lonely, ignored, probably die without ever feeling the brine ocean waters.
They would never break free from these glass walls into the wild when they are adorning our lives.
At this point, who gives whom a better chance at life?
Are we doing the right thing by capturing them from their homes to fill our lives or saving their chance of becoming shark food?
The answer is tricky.
Whatever it may be, whose life is defined by whose presence?
Is my life better because I have a fish to take care of? Or is the fish lucky that he landed up with someone who can take care of him preciously?
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