Cumulonimbus clouds extended far from the horizon. They lay siege to the blue ones roaming heartily happily across the day. The breeze blanketed a swathing cool feel. The chill woke up the little Ant.
He looked up for a while, thought a little and looked straight. The clouds already had the sprinkle on those greenish meadows under which he slept cozily. Small drops cumulated on the green blade of grass, slowly and steadily the viscous sphere full of dirt streamed to the tip. Before the little ant made a motion, it fell atop his antennas, drenching his black sheath of skin, more in happiness. Wrapped in energy, he stood up and drew the refreshed spirits for a boogie dance. As the rain fell louder, the drumming felt sweeter. Every drop of rain on the leafy membrane heard itself like a phantom drummer.
A smile garlanded his lower lip. Papa Ant and Momma Antress had saved enough for the rainy day. He was the only always-smiling insect in the colony and why shouldn’t he? No worries. No insecurities. He never felt the anxiety of being vulnerable.
“LAZY” – someone called him from far. He couldn’t make out the figure, marred in the veil of milky shower. The nickname hurt, ants in the hardworking community read ‘lazy’ as an abuse. But as long as he didn’t care, he could walk ahead.
Home stood an elegant structure; barricading the stream from peeping in. The mound of earth looked too safe a nest. Nearing he looked through the windows. Momma ant was busy preparing dinner.
“Knock-knock” - The knuckles prodded. A shivering chatter of teeth sung a cacophony in momma’s ears. She wiped him to warmth and ushered him in.
A full dinner later, thoughts carried him through a tunnel into the invisible. A world he wanted to be in, far away from the clutches of the workaholic ants. He too wanted a castle, but unrelenting to work until he discovered the something he cherished the most. The other Antmates had grown to giants in his eyes, but the little Ant believed in the power of dreams to survive.
Memories welcomed him to his earlier home. An awe-inspiring nest atop a tree, woven by Papa Ant who sewed leaves together to a spectacle. He remembered his moment of daze, that idle morning where his eyes interlocked in hers and roved on her soft black and yellow hair. She had come to collect nectar from the red blossom near his window. Even before he enjoyed a better glimpse, she buzzed away. How he expectedly hoped to see her again and how happily was he enveloped in bliss when she came singing the next day, gradually leaving a look or two to his charm. His pheromones had the power to speak to her intonations, and her scent on the flower multiplied to be his buzz. A beautiful Bumble bee, she slept like an unearthed treasure in his heart of hearts. A hardworking cutie, with whom he foresaw the proud environs he would be a slice of.
The pitter-patter subsided. Dripping rain above the roof marked the concluding drizzle. He could hear clear the next-door neighbour chirping, so inviting, and irresistible calling for him to game. But today the cricket’s wings rubbed to an unpleasant frequency.
“No, am not coming” - The shout reverberated through the anthill and the cricket stopped chirping. He wanted his privacy and the moments to be soaked in her thoughts. The little ant reclined in the cozy bed made of excess earth & continued to imagine her antennas that looked elegant while gathering honey. Her wings through which sunlight sifted its orangish hue making her the most chic even in some inattentive eyes. Her intrigues interested his invitations. Her gait in the most colorful of red cocktail dress etched in his canvas of reflections. Her skin stood shiny golden in her walk towards success. She stood epitomized as his strength in many a venture ahead. Her die-hard spirit and the truth in her core fascinated him more. He adored her in absence, yet enthralled himself in those umpteen fantasies he wove with her presence. He turned around and curiously stared at the colorless glass gift idling on the table. A crystal bowl with a dancing duo. An Antress moved rhythmic and the Ant moved graceful holding her hands in his.
The wind blew silent and chill, and the little ant’s black lashes hugged each other to weave a world of dreams where he and she danced and survived the intense of tempests that life threw forth. He loved the togetherness she granted him to complete and compliment.
Alas!!! Another strong wind and the crystal bowl fell, crashing to pieces of minute magnificence. He stopped dancing, heartbroken. She continued the ballet with the stranger he hadn’t confronted. But in every broken speck he saw the iota of her reflection, his trance.
The little ant woke up in sweat. The air around tried to console and soothe, but to no avail. He knew the impending, the imminent, waiting in the bright cloaks of an invigorating dawn, inching closer with the rising sun clothed in vivid red and magenta, merging her and consuming her passions. The intense light of the morning blocked his gaze and marred his vision. As calm descended, the little crystal stood intact, unlike in the broken dreams, glazing in the brightness showered all around. But the dancing Antress missing, the little ant’s eyes searched frantic. And he knew bitterly that the bumble bee too had gone, slipped his grasp, knotted to someone luckier and to a bigger Anthill. Yet he prayed for her, for her dreams, for her life to bear wings………and smiled at the new naughty dawn, shying away from his gaze…bringing with it more charming bumble bees for the little romantic in him to wander around…