Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Little Lily wants to go fishing...

Still and alert... At the edge of undulating water threatening to swallow her...

Fishing is a very demanding activity featuring a lot of inactivity I would think... I wouldn't know...
I have never gone fishing, in its literal sense..

[But one must have realised by now that this metaphor of fishing is not working as well as one would've liked and this attempt is quite sodden.]

Fishing seems passive unlike hunting and pursuing with aggressive focussed intent...

She does not see herself as a predator or a pursuer. Her inherent laid back-ness manifests itself in her choice of sport as well...She'd rather wait and watch, letting the prey come to her, in their own space, take their own sweet time.

It may not be as satisfyingly morbid as thrusting a knife deep into bleeding flesh, or shooting a poison tipped arrow at a living, moving being, or even pulling the trigger in that precise moment to do maximum damage... But one cannot deny that feeling of pleasure, of ownership, however short-lived it may be, washing over when the fish comes to you, seemingly of its own accord... The moment when the aching wait and punishing calm comes to an end...

Next comes the question of consumption...

Who consumes whom? or what...

Is there fulfillment?

Are they content... with their roles of natural forces pitched against one another...? Is the marauder penalised justly for having considered necessary to scout the edges of that other world... For lurking...
Or is the quarry tainted with the responsibility of creating a destroyer?
Maybe it carries enough venom inside it to destroy what it created.

1 comment:

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