It is a zoo out there!

Oh, dear, oh, dear!

First, there were the vultures, perched high up on the branch waiting patiently for their preys to fall. Their spirits rise with every heaving of the chest, hoping that that would be the last. Is the soul protected by the soaring eagles seen way up in the skies? Even as the body is failing, the spirit is clinging and refuses to go.

Even as the remains remain warm, White Rabbit is already scurrying around, muttering, "Oh dear, oh dear. I'm late for an important date!" peeking at the watch ever so often. The Mad Hatter is not needed, but he likes to think that he is indispensable.

Are the hyenas' scream decibels too loud for comfort? Mourners want a time of peace to reflect, not hear noises that evoke madness.

Minesweeper

Then came the owls with their eyes opened so vast that they scrutinise every shortcoming and scrouge source material for their next gossip session. With stereoscopic vision and 360° movement of the cervical region, they manage to recce every nook and corner like a minesweeper.

Also present are the almost unnoticeable storks that stand quietly by the corner in a deep thinker's pose. They seem invisible, practically camouflaged with the background, unflinching and disappearing as quietly as they moved in.

Buridan's Ass

The ostriches would not want to see any of these. They are content with burying their heads in the sand, convincing themselves that everything will pass. Like an albatross, the guilt of the whole preceding events is wrapped around some people's necks.

Almost forgotten are the philosopher asses who are quick to whip out philosophical pearls of wisdom. They peruse the exhibited cadaver and highlight the futility of life. They remind that the departed remain a pale shadow of her flamboyant self with all the juices of life sapped dry. They lecture on how we, the living, scream for recognition, pride and inflate our egos with hedonistic desires. 

Seeing with complex eyes?

Like a student of Camus or Nietsche, they paint a nihilistic purpose of life and plead for humility and simplicity. Even before the listeners can digest the gist of the speech, these same mules start arguing that they are right and throwing the weights around to show who is the boss! So much for walking the talk.

I just rest idly like a fly on the wall. I fancy looking at myself like a mysterious lizard who play dead and listen intently to the conversations. Sometimes I think it is quietly mocking the speakers by periodically clicking at the end of the sentences. And the humans respond as if they had received a divine nod of approval.

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