Drogo is out

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

It is true that life without purpose is empty but sometimes even finding the "purpose" of life is what everything one needs..

Colors popping in ground before his dull eyes, Drogo is out for yet another day of his job. Boring, Mechanical and Regimented was how he described it to others. He along with his 1000 coworkers would catch the day at sharp 5 , and would then almost unconsciously fall into their daily routine. As a defined procedure, they would empty their sacs of the old nectar and sharpen their two pincers diligently to collect the new. While Drogo did this, he pursed his lips and masked his face with false devotion. In no way, he could risk his survival by letting his insincerity reveal to the "Queen". She demanded unshakable devotion from her workers but her trust on them was like a crumbled mud house. Never did she fail to check the sharpness of their pincers before they started from factory and weight of their sacs when thry returned. Every sac was carefully weighed against a standard sac which she had labelled "Just Enough". One could get his full share of nectar (which was half of one's day's earning) only when their sac and the "Just enough" sac matched level. For most of the workers, this happened once a week.Well!! for Drogo, it last happened two months ao. His blackened eye rims, punctured belly and drooping pincers were not only because of lack of food but also due to lack of interest in his job. He was filled with indignation of having to go flower to flower begging for nectar everyday. "Beautiful they are !! I dont mind.."- Prongs once replied to his concern with drunk eyes and lustful smile. Drogo growled at this- "And proud too!!". On this prejudice of his, Drogo should not be judged , because till now, he had met only proud flowers,or so he thought. Whenever he came at their door, with his yellow sac propped up, they gave him a condecending look, making him feel small. Nonethless, they always opened the door to let him in. But, one day, Drogo saw through the deceit hid behind this seemingly kind welcome. He found that while he poured the nectar in his sac, the flowers would stealthily stuck a round and prickly thing on his back. Drogo remained silent as they had been instructed by the "Queen" to limit their work to collecting nectar- "Do not question the flowers and never answer them". The first part of the instruction was taken care by Drogo's hate towards flowers' deceit while flowers took care of the second part- They never talked to Drogo. It was from Prongs that he understood that those round prickly balls helped the flowers to multiply. Drogo's fury knew no bounds on learning this. He was now more ashamed of his job as a transporter for the proud flowers and a nectar hoarder for the selfish Queen. His wings refused to flap and words remained prisoned in his mouth, when Queen forced the daily oath on them-

"Dont you dare to stop!!!!

Squeeze them till the last drop"

 

With the unwillingness to fulfill this oath, Drogo was out for yet another day. Today, he decded to take a different road away from the colored patches to the brown slopes of a nearby hill. May be, he thought of taking a day off despite the fact that hunger was nudging him. But what troubled him more was the lack of purpose gnawing his mind. Perhaps, the barren hil mirrorred his life and hence, soothed him.With shallow recesses, the hill was clothed in stark brown except something white which was peeping from one of the recesses now and then. A pale white flower was hidden there, wanting to be seen. Drogo didn't had to knock at her wide open door.

 "Hey there!!! Come here!!!

With steps as slow as my fair song,

But, make haste, if you may,

As they wont last too long"

 

The air swelled with the sweetness of that voice and it seemed to trickle through Drogo's throat drop by drop, making its way straight to his heart.As if he was feeding on a sac full of nectar, hunger along with despair left him. Before he could thank the host, another song left her lips-

"O traveller!! though I know you not,

Also, not the errand you hold,

But, glad I am that you liked my song

And came to my humble door"

 

Drogo replied with a smile- "I am called Drogo. Never have I heard any flower singing in so sweet a voice. You are a special flower"

 "All the flowers are special

And so are all the bees

Master Drogo, perhaps you never listened

To the flowers which you squeezed

Flowers don't talk and love singing.

The nectar is nothing but their song ringing"

 

Dazed, Amazed and Ashamed was Drogo. He looked at her intently to know her more. Her petals had lost shine and crispness but her eyes were like her song- Seemed newly born.

"Time has come for my last song

I have sung 50000 from the day I was born

Hope, my dying body will depair you not,

Coz, what is undying is my beautiful song"

 

With this, Clara closed half of her shining eyes. Drogo's bliss was now mixed with a drop of grief. Her family was nowhere to be seen in this barren hill. Perhaps, she was all alone. He picked as many round and prickly balls from her womb as he could. Drogo is out again, but now with a purpose..

 

 

 

 


Submitted: May 28, 2021

© Copyright 2021 varsha06. All rights reserved.

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