The intricacies of a once discovered, lost again blade of the reddest grass can be quite misleading. No, it is not an uncommon phenomenon, as exponents of the ‘grass is green’ theory would like you to believe; in fact, they would like you to think that red is actually green.
For see, in parts of the world where people seldom eat more than three pigs a day, each, mostly always roasted, and mostly always with great wine, grass grows red. And a wonderful red, as though Ferrari’s paint shop had mistakenly spilt its contents all over here. Of course then, it is a pointless affair to attempt to drive one through here, as no one would notice. True also, you’d have to build a road yourself first.
Watch. It is untouched land. No, food does grow here, but it is quickly eaten, always. See, red is a deeply hunger-inducing colour. And this, combined with the thought of having to stay awake, leaves people with no confusion in their minds, and they do not hesitate to stuff themselves, and thus feel happily drowsy the entire day.
Near where the trees grow in circles, and raccoons sing songs about the choicest mozzarella cheese, there is a space where the clearest water stands as deep as your ankles. Pray, do not take your dog there, specially if he lacks an average IQ, as I remember mine dove headfirst into the water at his own reflection; true, I followed him, but it was merely out of concern, and sympathy, but mostly out of curiosity. And it must be said there is little else that is more hurtful physically, psychologically and ergonomically. So I was a changed man after that.
I was once walking through Red (as we shall call this place), and it was a rare moment when three people on the street decided to discuss the politics of a herd of deer and their particular relationships with predators, thus blocking all traffic. So the only bicycle in town could be heard all through the day with its little bell ringing; even its rider tried shouting – of course, the men, like all men in the world, simply reveled in their power to cause a potential gridlock, and showed a great deal of surprise when their wives whacked them that night, for what reason no one knows.
In Red, there is a man who thinks, besides doing some other things. This has led him to believe that if all the forces in the Universe were to combine into one Big Force, it would be possible to lift Old Lady, his aunt, from her chair, where she has been sitting for the past twenty three years, trying to outdo her own aunt. It has also led to his growing concern over the future of identical twins in this changing world. His most recent discovery had to do with ants. He found that they were a disorganized bunch, and so must be the closest genetically to us humans.
An excerpt from one of his latest works in fiction, titled ‘ The Futility of Laments’ –
From Chapter 3 ‘..It caused me a fair degree of incredulity, and itching too, to find that of all the things that can grow exponentially in this world, the number of cactii had taken an obvious lead. To learn more, I tried putting on my thinking cap, but found that it was full of cat hair, and no longer fit anyone but my cat.
From Chapter 111 ‘..Do you know what one can debate endlessly upon? One can argue indefinitely about the sad state of the music industry today, or the merits of government sponsored toothpaste, or the usefulness of transparent pencils, but two can have a great time at the restaurant on Main street.’
Coming back to the subject of the grass here in Red, mention must be made of the great reverence people here have for this otherwise common and taken-for-granted plant - why, once when it hadn’t rained for an entire day, a third of Red’s inhabitants actually gave up eating it, much to the delight of their respective digestive systems, and even more so for the cows, who had never before had such a field day.
True, there is not a sight that can be compared with the lush red at Red. Apart from squirrels dancing on chimneys. Or the finest spread of the finest broccoli, placed on white linen.
(2006)
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