There she was. At least they said it was a ‘she’. In a park not far from your house and mine, there was a statue. There was nothing extraordinary about it. It was not even a completed sculpture. It was supposed to be a woman with a veil on her face but the sculptor had passed away before giving it this final touch. Therefore her face was revealed to the world and she too got a chance to gaze around at the creatures so different from her. The only striking features of this incongruous figure were the way her hands spread out on both sides, on which birds perched and chirped all day long, and her welcoming lap that was an abode for students and fatigued travellers.
Every day the statue would observe various people, birds and insects visiting the park. It was a fateful autumn day and the park was unoccupied. Dry gusts of wind blew crisp leaves everywhere. The statue was growing weary of standing and waiting for something or someone to pass by. Suddenly from a path that was unknown to her before, her stoned eyes saw a beautiful monarch butterfly flutter close by. Randomly swishing in the breeze, the butterfly finally halted on the statue’s nose. The statue had never seen anything so stunning before. She was mesmerized by the delicacy portrayed by each dimension of his configuration. For the few seconds the striking insect remained there, he made numerous alterations inside the cold stone; alterations that proved very crucial for her.
It was that day after that the statue realized that she could feel. She was stone and stones are supposed to be stoic. Yet she felt stirred inside. Something unique, something ecstatic had touched every part of hers and she could not get over that feeling. Day after day she spent seeking the same path the monarch had emerged from, and then, had left, leaving with her grand memories of the moments they were together. But as the feelings grew stronger, her impatience did not falter and yet she waited for a glimpse.
Eventually next year on a fine spring day the monarch arrived, but this time it was with a pretty pink butterfly. They fluttered together on the gorgeous flowers on the far side of the park and the statue could not bear the shock she got. As both butterflies passed her, she felt an incisive pain. The student sitting on her lap suddenly heard a sharp ‘crack’ and looking up found a small, fresh crevice on the left side of her bosom. The student sensed danger and hastily moved away.
The next day, a huge municipal truck was seen parked outside the park. The labourers inside were busy gathering the remains of the statue that had once stood benevolently before.
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