Frog Hunt

As a little boy, like every little boy, I wanted to do something adventurous. On a rainy day when the frogs were croaking loud and long it stuck me that I should play the hunter the primitive way, carrying a bow and arrows. I made a bow with a broken twig from a tree, strung it, and for an arrow I chose a broken but a foot long spoke of an umbrella.

I went looking for my game. There was a big bellied green frog hopping and stopping. I raised the bow overhead and shot at it from above. It was at close range. The spoke got fixed to the back of the frog. I could not think of how painful it must have been for the frog. When it started hopping the spoke swung to and fro. Only now the muscle movement of the frog became so manifest, like the needle of an ECG or EEG rapidly and visibly wriggling.

I began to feel so sorry. I did not know how to end its pain. If I told my father he would definitely whack me. I took bold and pulled the spoke out, and never again attempted hurting such harmless animals.

The scene however got stuck in my mind and for several nights I had a dream in which I saw myself carrying the arrow like a cross minus the cross-bar.