The perennial plight for a home

 

I bought a flowerpot. So it becomes my pot. Earlier it was the flower nursery owner’s pot who had bought it from the pot maker, who in turn got soil and other ingredients from various places and players. Ultimately it had come from an absolutely sovereign, free source—nature. Finally it becomes my pot. Or does it? Wait, there is no end to the chain of claimants.

I planted holy basil plants in it. My sense of ownership getting denser because of my faith in Tulsi Mata. That takes the idea of ownership into the dimensions of holiness, faith, worship and rituals.

But then the chain of ownership doesn’t end with me. Now it becomes an ant colony’s pot also. They have been working on elaborate subsurface tunnels to adjust their bourgeoning population.

The ants have worked so hard on it that they have earned a right to consider it their pot from the same logic that I use for my ownership. In fact it’s their city, town or village itself.

The colony has prospered within months. I know it’s not good for my holy plants. When I water the pot I almost feel like deluging the ant colony, to scare them away, to force them to change their mind and see it as an unfavorable location and move to some other place.

But it’s a very stubborn ant colony. They are fighting it out. They will stay in contention as long as I keep the war within conventional limits like digging and watering and avoid the unconventional, unethical means of perpetrating slaughter and genocide using some insecticide.

It would be a sin. Committing a sin to continue with my pious worship of holy basil would be too contradictory. Moreover, the poet in me can hardly take such a drastic step.

I have raised my war-faring tempo to a big extent but always keeping it well short of unethical means. I count upon water as the main agent of my attack. My strategic planning behind this maneuver being that the ant commanders will finally realize the futility of staying in bogs.

But they turn out to be more innovative and practical than I imagined. They have drilled exit channels from top to bottom. The more water I pour, the more it comes out of the excess water exit hole at the bottom of the vase. They have smartly connected all the floodwater tunnels to the sole exit point at the bottom. Water gushes out within seconds of being poured on top. Smart ants!

They know they cannot do much against me, save some bite or two now and then. However, they can handle water, not by fighting it but by using its quality of flowing through suitable channels.

All I can do is simply watch with marveling helplessness.