At Botanic Gardens Part 1 of 2 – Finding Mr. B a New Home

One morning, right before I started the car engine and began a rather unusual morning of enjoying myself at the Botanic Gardens on a working day, Cynthia pointed at the passenger seat window and said rather calmly, “Look, there is an animal outside”. The French calls it an animal. Apparently the Indonesian refers that as an animal too. But in Chinese and in English, I would rather call it an insect. Linguistically, any living being that is not a human being nor a plant is an animal. But that blob of protein with somewhat hard shell, hairy legs, and has a size of one and a half inches in length? I would call it an insect, a beetle to be exact. (Note: Cynthia countered and asked if I would call a frog an amphibian or an animal. I was tongue-tied.)

I thought that once the car left the parking lot, the beetle would fly away. But it didn’t. It just hang onto the window as our car sped onto the highway. From the feeling of indifference came a feeling of concern. If this beetle was to fly off in the middle of highway, chances were, it would smash itself onto the windscreen of an incoming vehicle and suffer a horrible death. I did not have the heart for that to happen. In as much as possible, I accelerated gently and braked gently. It is hard to describe but I felt as thought it was no longer just Cynthia and I who were inside the car, but this beetle too – as one of our passengers. How extraordinary in such an ordinary day! Since I was heading to the Botanic Gardens, Cynthia suggested that I should free this passenger of ours into the wild.

That made sense. After all, I did not think a beetle can make its home on a highway, nor in the city. A beetle living in a concrete jungle is a dead beetle in no time. All of a sudden, I related to our new friend. A friend whom I wanted to give him a name.

Me: Let’s give this guy a name.
Cynthia: Okay. What would you suggest?
Me: Anything. You pick.
Cynthia: How about Mr. Bee.
Me: But he is not a bee!
Cynthia: Bee stands for beetle.
Me: Fine. Mr. B it is then.

Throughout the journey to Cynthia’s office, Mr. B hardly moved. Hence I inquired, “Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so. I saw him moving his legs,” replied Cynthia. “Are you sure it was not the wind,” I countered. Cynthia did not reply.

And when we finally reach Cynthia’s office, Mr. B started to move around. I was actually worried that he might lose his grip and fall off the window. But he didn’t. As I was driving to the Botanic Gardens – alone – Mr. B made a turn when our car stopped at the traffic light and he faced me. As though he was trying to tell me something.

Of course I did not hear a thing! Was I hallucinating or what?! In my mind I said to him, “Hang in there buddy. We will reach your new home soon.”

As I reached the Botanic Gardens, I got out of the car with a piece of paper, walked to the other side of the car and observed. The heat wave from the engine and the tyre was unbearable. How did Mr. B manage to put up with that? Amazing. I scooped him off and gently released him onto a vast bush area. I hope that he will find solace in this new home of his.

In life, we come across different kinds of people. Most of the time, we are indifference to their existence. We may not be able to communicate because of certain barriers, but we may be in the same journey one way or another. Our destinations may not coincide, but however brief the interaction is, it can be life changing to some due to the things we do. It is how one treats the insignificance that speak ones character.