The Storm

Nature should not be taken for granted or else...

- Manjula Shukla

The storm thundered for more than a day, twenty-four difficult hours. High-speed winds caused some trees to be uprooted and others to bend down from one side to the other as if they wanted to touch the ground in salute to the storm. Windows were thrust out of the frames, roofs blown off the shanties. Cars skid from the parking lots onto roads. The lashing rain found all the tiny crevices, hitherto unseen, to flood the interiors of houses.

Mankind was miserable. Confined to their dwellings, nowhere to go, sitting out the storm was painful.

The artist was thoughtful. Perhaps the sensitivity and skill required to be an exceptional artist made his instincts and intuition much sharper than others.

“Why are you so furious?” he asked.

Nature raged at him. “You puny humans, do you think you can control me? I’ve seen the birth of the planet, you… you’ve been around for only a few thousand years.”

“You humans don’t have any respect, love or compassion. You have ravaged me, cut trees for your whims and fancies, murdered my animals, poisoned my waters, and polluted my air, what do you think of yourself? Not only me, you fight among yourselves; kill one another, without a second thought. You deserve to be exterminated.”

“I unleashed a virus for you to understand and change your ways, but still your infighting continues.”