By Rudrangshi Saha
Once I saw a crocodile,
Frolicking in a meadow green,
Its rough scales gleamed like jagged rocks,
Against the vibrant floral sheen.
I froze- what an absurdity!
A beast so vile, misplaced, obscene,
Its bulging eyes, its toothy grin,
A sight I wished I’d never seen.
The lilies cowered beneath its weight,
Smooshed flat like crumpled pages,
While its tail lashed across the beds,
Destroying blooms of varied stages.
It rolled in mud, it snapped at bees,
It giggled loud with squirrels.
A bird flew by; it gave a chase,
Its lumbering body twirled.
I stood aghast, my shoes cemented
My trusty Crocs, blue and bright.
I glanced down at my own footwear,
Then at this croc of ghastly might.
“At least one of us looks good,” I muttered,
Sneering at its shameless glee.
It basked beneath a humble tree,
No care for what it seemed to be.
The sparrows chirped, the squirrels danced,
A puppy tugged its scaled, hard hand.
The croc, unbothered, softly smiled,
Enjoying the meadow’s quiet land.
Yet there I stood, my chest ablaze,
At this wretched intruder’s stay.
“Who let this reptile in my sight?
How dare it ruin my day?”
And then, within, a voice arose,
Sharper than a blade,
“Wretched one, it’s you, not it.
Your anger’s self-made.”
I staggered back. “Excuse me, what?
How could this thing be right?
It’s ugly, coarse- it doesn’t belong,
It ruins this lovely sight!”
The voice, unyielding, struck again,
It echoed firm and slow:
“This crocodile, this carefree thing,
Does not your bitterness know.
It does not hate, it does not spite,
It lives as life should be.
Its joy disturbed your misery,
Its freedom set you free.”
The sparrows sang, the squirrels pranced,
The puppy wagged its tail.
The croc slept soundly in the shade,
Its breathing calm, its spirit hale.
And as I gazed, my heart grew soft,
The scales no longer rough.
Its belly, though it crushed the flowers,
Did not seem all that tough.
Its eyes no longer bulged in mock,
But twinkled in the light.
Its grin no longer beastly,
Its joy quite a delight.
The croc was living, simple, true,
Its place was here as mine.
It mattered not how strange it seemed-
Its life was its design.
The meadow hummed, the world went on,
No creature seemed to mind.
So why, I thought, did I despise
This beast I’d undermined?
Perhaps because I envied it-
Its ease, its carefree way.
While I stood rooted, scorn in hand,
It laughed through every day.
I chuckled then, a rueful sound,
And sat upon the ground.
I watched the croc, a marvel now,
Its freedom unbound.
And thus, I learned from rugged scales
To let my judgments go.
For even in the strangest sights,
Life’s beauty dares to show.