Babbles  Inside  A  Bubble

        It is mid-afternoon and the sun gleams under a dull grey sky. The drizzle sheds clear crystals of water. A light breeze accentuates the coolness in the air to my spacious window. My eyes gaze at the golden shower tree, Cassia Fistula, the flamboyant yellow blossoms and the lustrous leaves framing the skyline. Impish kids beeline under the shade, sport a broad grin and blow bubbles of myriad colours. Small bubbles join to become a big bubble. I try to catch one, but in vain.

       Oh! My goodness! What do I see? Is it real? A tiny one-eyed bubble winks, stretches out its arms, engulfs me and entices me into a path of gloomy darkness. I feel lost in a Paradise. I hold my breath; wish myself to be dispersed into a hundred thousand pieces among the fluffy clouds. Pyramids, Castles, Snowy-flake Mountains, Serene Streams, Trees-dwarf and giant-like whirl before me, sprinkle my mind with showers of ecstasy. My ingenious stranger lands down with me. (My mind longs for a parachute and not a bubble). He hops along slopes filled with daffodils and marigolds. My robust companion sings happily, “Men may come, men may go, But I go on forever.”

        Enchantment and exuberance springs within me. What a lovely sight it is! My eyes relish a sweet delicacy of books piled one upon another-Gulliver’s Travels, David Copperfield, Hamlet, Emma, Waiting for Godot, Animal Farm, Divine Comedy, Fairie Queene…

        At the farthest end, I visualize a string of familiar faces. Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, Frost-verses crowning their halo. Addison, Lamb, Bacon, Chetan Bhagat dining at their wit and humour. Seneca, Marlowe and Webster defense the importance of moral conflict in tragedy to Simone de Beauvoir and Kate Millet. .Achebe, Patrick White, Coetzee indulge in a heated debate with Tagore and Sarojini Naidu. In an exquisite corner, I find Donne and Marvell in their quirky exploration of abstract similes and metaphors beside me. Coffee-houses of a Utopian world!

             My amiable buddy Mr,Bubble bumps against a thorny bush. Alas! He vanishes forever. Oh my God! My charming Romeo is gone. Oops… Sobs and tears flood my inquisitive eyes. Perplexed for a moment, I sense a magic spell upon me. I find an angel with a mesmerizing smile, holding a glass of lime juice. My mother!

              I wake up from my ‘adorable dream’ of a cozy nap. On my study table, R.J.Rees’ book flutters gracefully. My hand reaches for the page, ’Why we study Literature?’ I peep inside and outside searching Mr.Bubble, who cheered and enlightened my spirits. My lips murmur Oscar Wilde’s words, “Literature always anticipates life. It does not copy it, but moulds it to its purpose”.

Dr.G.Priya

Assistant Professor,

The Research Centre of English,

Fatima College.