Urvashi

In a dusty corner of a magnificent cupboard that stood in a stately room of a royal mansion, lay an emerald green marble. It had been fifteen years, but she continued to lie here, still, silent and sparkling. Once a part of every minute of every day of the children, she now lay in the confines of the dusty shelf. She had forgotten what it was like to run and play and deceive and hide. She yearned for a ray of light, some of the warm, happy sunshine she had grown so used to and a little bit of excitement. But the children had grown up. They didn’t play with marbles anymore; they played with money and lives and reveled in their royal heritage.

Then one day, someone walked into the royal mansion and up to the stately room. They shook the magnificent cupboard violently and the heavy doors flew open. The royal, emerald green marble rolled frightened in her shelf. But then, quick as lightening she jumped off and bounced across the wooden floor towards me. Plop. She was in my bowl. Gulp. She was in my stomach. Oops.



(On an aquarium)