I am sitting on a table in the middle of the living room, the palms of my hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea that I have been sipping slowly for about 20 minutes. Outside the window with the curtains drawn all the way, it is a bright sunny day that promises to get hot. From the direction of the main gate leading into the walled compound where I live, a group of neighborhood children are making unexcited noises as they wait for the bus to collect them and take them to school. And as I look blankly through the window, I see a beetle laboriously walking up the edge of one of the flowered curtain partitions that dutifully hangs down the brown wooden curtain box. My eyes follow the beetle as it reaches the top of the curtain and starts walking across. Soon it disappears behind one of the folds and I take the last sip of the lukewarm tea as I stand up to start off my day.

I find myself wondering about the beetle, and I remember one morning I found a slug trailing slowly across the green metal barrier at my balcony. Since I live 3 floors up, I wondered just how much effort it might have taken the slug to move from the ground to this level many metres up. And so I wonder the same for the beetle. When did it come from and where is it going?

When I think about it, the beetle must have a mother and a father and probably brothers and sisters that it left behind. Perhaps back at its home in Beetle Land, it was surrounded by other beetles, just like it. I would imagine that the beetle lived in a community where every good beetle does something to enrich its life while simultaneously contributing towards the welfare of all beetles. For example, some beetles sourced for food all day while others took care of the youngsters. Some beetles taught other beetles and others fought for the rights of disadvantaged beetles. Then there was the wealthy beetle that had marked off a big portion of Beetle Land that no other beetle was allowed to access. That beetle would walk around and all other beetles would pretend to like him. On the day the beetle dies, other beetles will congregate and say how much they liked him before hurriedly sweeping him under the carpet and dividing his land amongst themselves. Surprisingly, the new owners of the land would mark off their territories and bar other beetles from accessing it. They then would walk around like the beetle they used to hate, and other beetles would pretend to like them.

In Beetle Land, every beetle tries to distinguish itself from other beetles by making itself more beautiful, talking smarter, puffing up its body, chirping louder, and generally doing anything to outdo all the other beetles. Each day, every sphere of life at Beetle Land was filled with competition for who is more or has more. And as a result, for many generations the beetles have been doing the same things over and over again. Nothing ever changed because life was all about outdoing what the other beetle has already done. While talking to each other, each beetle looked happy and excited, but they all had a sense of sadness that resulted in a lack of real purpose in life. Only few of them seem to know why they were here in the first place.

It was in this sense of despair that the beetle woke up one day and decided to change the course of his life. And so early that morning, he took off on a path that didn’t lead to anywhere he has ever been. The beetle knew of no other beetle that had walked this way and also understood that he would have to walk this path alone. However, any path that didn’t lead to the mundane daily existence of Beetle Land was welcome. And so he ended up having a purpose to move along in the path that he had taken. He knew the dangers of branching away from the beaten path, and so was grateful for every breathe that he took. But I guess most of all, he was glad that he was free from the daily competition at Beetle land whose bounty was vanity and price in vain. And that is perhaps how he ended up on my curtain this morning.

Back in Beetle Land, they probable remember him and shake their heads in sadness and say how lost he is. While out there in the world of curtains, he probably remembers them and shakes his head in sadness and says how lost they are.