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Tup ,tup, tup,the water comes down. Snoring. Some people are snoring in their deep sleeps. Flies move around the sleeping child concentrating around his ears, they sing and dance and sing more. The small thin boney hands would move and come closer to the ears to the dismay of the flies.one among the many simply move ahead to the other celebrities singing in the ears of the rest of the family. The old women in the worn out clothes is snoring the loudest. She is looking horrible, our fly looks at her and horrified by the look turns away .everybody is sleeping here. There is a little boy, not too little just about ten years old. He is sitting in a corner and on the floor. His eyes are sleepless and dangerous. He is going to be very dangerous for others or himself. He has dreams in his eyes. Where the rest of the house is drowned in the silence of sleep this young boy is immersed in the noise of his dreams. His face is set with emotions just like the time when he is studying the parts of a car engine in his workshop. He is every time solving some one or the other problems in his mind. The emotions are so much set on his faces that now he looks odd without them, well never mind he is rarely without them. Earlier he used to sleep without them. While sleeping he would look so serene and peaceful that one is bound to remember his own innocent childhood and its blessings. Now it’s all the same, his expressions tell a reader two things; one he is preoccupied and the other he is solving some trouble or finding some solution. Wonder what he is thinking now? He is thinking about the car engine or what? A group of flies are also surrounding him; they stop at various parts of his body. He makes no effort to wave them off. They have set their stage closer to his eyes and he is their most loyal and devoted fan as he listens patiently. His ears are alert and it seems he is actively listening to the music of flies, trying to understand what they say and later on find some hidden meaning, if there exist any. He doesn’t tire out but the musician does. The fly bored with him apparently move out. The deafening tup, tup,tup from the tap is followed by a monotonous sound of water coming out of the tap. Water is following its route on earth and its sound has made another route in the air. The fly is out of the confinements of the building to witness the change of black into white. The little creature has set herself on the cold oily varnished fence of the tallest building in the vicinity. The poor fly aimed to see the definite moment when night would hand over all the glories of the moon to the rising sun. a little later we see that the fly is hopelessly disappointed, moving here and there, if even from the top of the tallest building in the vicinity the poor creature could not see the shift of night into the day. All she saw was that darkness got dimmer and dimmer and light becomes dominant minute by minute, the brightening sky becomes brighter and emerges a red ball from the east to leave the struggling bee bereft. Our fly is disappointed and angry and a bit reflective, she could not figure out what was wrong. These humans talk about being specific and definite in all what they do or talk where nature itself is so ambiguous. How can she improve it, she has time and can find the demarcation between day and night, but how? Our fly is self critical; she asks herself that how come she never noticed this before, after all this is not his first day on earth, why was he so inattentive to his surroundings and how can he improve. After a great deal of self criticism and contemplation, the fly is bored and turns to go back to her diehard fan; the little dangerous boy. The fly comes down and enters a broken window, this time not welcomed by the tup tup from some tap. Everybody is awake and moving here and there listlessly. A girl is scolded and she finally gets up to move towards the kitchen. She moves a tap and there is no water only a drop that comes down to earth and the home echoes with the sound of a tup. The girl frowns and comes back to her place on the chair in front of a table where lots of pages are placed scribbled with the unimaginable writings of future or maybe past. The echo of tup tup resonates in the air and mocks the dry tap. The listless faces of the family their frowns their hopeless eyes raise questions that our poor fly cannot turn into words for us. Who would answer these questions, they themselves, the civilized modern society or their omnipotent god. In any case our fly is not responsible and not even interested. So he turns away on the lookout for the dangerous boy. The fly eyes him in the other room, runs to him, start telling him his tale and pastime. The boy seems to be completely aware of his surroundings and is easily annoyed. To end his annoyance, he chase the fly out the same broken window from where she entered. The angry and insulted fly is decided there and then to leave the home forever and find himself a new home, he thinks world is big place and he has a great voice someone on this mighty and vast earth would be able to recognize and admire his talent. Shooting into the air like a bullet she flies high. After a while the fly is on road. He lands royally on the bonnet of a new grand car, he tries to adjust but the car is too fast and strong gusts of winds can easily uproot him anytime. So the fly would enter the car uninvited. It is a comfortable luxurious place. The fly is too happy and the optimism burst out in words like”; world is a big beautiful and place”. As he coughs in the smoke of a cigar he feels the presence of the big man who holds the cigar. He is a handsome and a delicate man, much better than the previous fans of the fly. Impressed by the look he starts chattering unconsciously, welcoming his own self, and his own formal introductions etc. The fly went on unnoticed for a while, feeling ignored he rushes to notice his ear. The man forced to notice him, drives the fly out in seconds in his irritations. Our fly shocked form such unworthy treatment from his congenial friend runs for his life barely escaping death at the hands of large material weapons on roads. He is left with injured, broken hearted in the middle of the road, in front of rushing speedy vehicles and merciless humans. Later at midnight the fly stands on the road to contemplate his statement and faith, “the world is a big and beautiful place.”