To be a Fish
For long have I been in awe of the sea: her depth, her immensity bewilders me just as Himalaya’s sheer cliffs and cold out-worldly reaches. But just as climbers belong to the mountains, the sailors belong to the seas – and I am none of these. Through the eyes of a bewildered child all I have with me is a source, from where I draw my capability to admire, and from where I am able to absorb the knowledge hidden beneath the layers of rocks and waves of waters. Yet as much as anyone would like to step into the paws of a tiger, I’m sure not everyone would like to step into the shoes – or flippers – of a fish. But to be a fish in this world of seafood delicacies is not just about swimming freely. To be a fish, is to live in the shadow of a boat throughout the life. A busy jetty on a cloudy evening The sea calmly lashed along the shoreline of a bay nestled amidst two rocky shores. A fort of old rests as a wave-breaker in the middle of the curves. The bay serves as a jetty for haul