When I was born, the place was crowded. My compound eyes and ocelli couldn’t figure out anything. Hundreds of people were there, I assumed I was special. But turns out they were just spilling food on the stairs leading to the dull green gates. Colourful, discarded Tetra Pak were seen adorning the places where useful/less bums spend their time. This place is usually frequented by a lot of students who are invisible and burdened with heavy bags and stories, both offline and online. In my second week, I learned this phrase called ‘Buzz off dude’. Thought it was meant towards me. Turns out it wasn’t, this doesn’t mean I am lame, the suborder Cyclorrhapha have a reputation to make silly assumptions. I would usually hear this phrase when lot of people eat from a single plate. But they still put their hands before hearing some words which better be censored.
My eyes don’t have a proper focusing mechanism which is usually irritating. Sometimes too much of light is not good for your lives. However, I have realised I am a star, the winged, wicked buzzing star. They try whacking me away with some advertisements or a newspaper. Both are same anyway. Otherwise the big guys bring out their guns, or in this case this extravagant gigantic black thing called a Hit spray which has a hideous thing for a nozzle. Except, I glide away with ease while the person hits himself with a paper or coughs due to the spray. But the best reactions, hands down I have seen is the swaying action. They should make an Instagram challenge out of it, to spread awareness on insects maybe.
By the time, I set into my third week, I felt powerful. And would take every opportunity to showoff my amazing flying skills to others. I would fly backwards and hover around discarded plates and cups. The word Biryani, Cup Noodles, Rolls and Samosas brought some happiness but not like that phrase ‘No class today’ to the humans. Of course, they would still bunk classes and once I heard someone lament about their attendance. But, who cares. They bought food which brought me more pleasure, more selections, more variety to relish from.
Finding a spot to sit was easy, just land in and take off. Get the taste of all the items and if they irritate people like me, go hum in their ears and annoy them. I had got used to the area, that I don’t move around. All my essentials are found in this vicinity. Sometimes I poop on posters and no one would notice. I have three buddies, they are triplets. Only thing that differentiates them is the colours. Red blue and green but with a tint of brown and repulsive smell. They collect food for me and even brought in a system to not confuse with unnecessary stuffs but it gets mixed and is a massive failure. At times, I see a blossoming romantic relationship who are trying not to be obvious. But nothing misses my senses and out of nowhere, a sturdy middle-aged man would shout at people to put tags that reinforce the tag they fall under and interrupt their conversations.
The honeymoon period was over. One day, the people who usually walk in cheerfully were locking up the gates. The faces which always provided me of happiness as their arrival ensures my appearance on another people’s food was emotionless. A poster read, “UG Canteen shifted to Magis Block”. I didn’t panic much, I mean my food supply would dwindle a little. But I can always fly over to the momos stall and pani puri guy or my favourite; the cut fruits stall. Being healthy is important and I even considered being a vegan for a brief period of time. These places are usually my vacation spots. And I can always rely on the lunches. Home food is always there.
But the crowds went missing, no dabbas to sit on. My neighbours who belong to the Felis Catus category had more problems, they were allegations of them being dangerous to the homo sapiens and were being kicked out. I will surely miss discussing about dairy products to them. It was an uneasy freedom. I roamed around, trying to disrupt people writing a record or fancy laptops but they weren’t shooing me away with a notebook either. Worse, they didn’t acknowledge my existence, it was hard to travel to the other side of the road. Following the mantra of ‘Survival of the fittest’ I emigrated to the small canteen but that move didn’t give me enough rewards.
I had seen the end of my road until some renovation works happened in the canteen area. Carpenters came in with equipment and were cutting out materials and I was sculpting my dream of the crowds coming back. But it was shattered just like how the workers dropped the glass doors. It is being converted into an office. I have realised my last week was here, I am not active as before. My vision is failing me and the other day when few youngsters marched; Left Right Left. I just hope that I won’t die under these boots. Time for me to fly away.