9.13 The ant house

Shreyasi
Shreyasi
Nov 3 · 3 min read

The idea came in the shape of seeing ants lift a grain. You can also say that the idea came seeing ants make their own house. Or you can also say that the idea came seeing ant hill on a decomposed stump of eucalyptus.

At that time, another colony of ants was preparing to transport particles and grains (along with hair and skin) onto a decaying brown bark. Not altering their gait much, bumping against each other whenever one ahead would pause, a stream of ants kept moving up.


The woman watching this wrapped locomotion with arrowed eyebrows, shuddered and hurtled into a tree just behind her and its branch fell off. Having been a long night for her it was quite acceptable for the tree that she kept her head over the fallen branch, used it as a cushion, and stared for a long time into the plain crown made by the leaves above.

Photo by Humam on Unsplash

In the morning, a drop of liquid fell like the first alphabet over her face. A conversation which involved everyone — sun ray, ocean, water, bedrock, roots, soil, air, clouds, sky, and the tree itself– finally touched its formal character. Wake Up, it said.

Birds had finished hunting. The woman finally raised her head towards the faint voice. A winged bird was feeding another dot — an ant — to her children, sitting there in the hole, that the branch had created while becoming a cushion.


The woman did not create her house by clearing that tree, in which the entire ecosystem lived off well and let others live too. Her house was inspired from that scene. She collected a few rocks, piled them on top of each other, evened the space beneath each stone with soft soil, and kept the lone branch over those rocks — making a bridge, which squirrels and snakes used casually. Later on, the house was built in the shape of a big rock, hollowed out from inside.

She lived alone and she talked a lot.

Then one day, she saw a camel. Piling all her articles and kissing the rear most part of her house, she moved away. The house never felt her move in again.

A series of storms arrived. Desert shifted near the house. Sand blew inside. A pigeon smashed onto the wall of the rock. Soil rolled over it. More land came inside. The beak was the last to welcome the soil. The camel returned many years later with some other people. By then the house was eroding. There was less vegetation around. Kikar grew in nearby. Snakes came to drop their skins. Kikar gave birth to more Kikars.

Eventually, the house was out.


Now when the industry came to swing rocks, the house appeared again. There are multiple versions of the same house made from a fallen branch and softened over times. In many parts of Rajasthan, Delhi, Uttar Pradesh, and Uttrakhand, the house lives. Each one recognises the other; each one knows the present because of past.


Today the house has a Jamun tree close to its bedroom window. Ants came today, carrying grains from the leftovers of Leo’s biscuits, to the anthill near the lower part of the tree’s trunk.

What Happened To The House

A series of short fiction on shifty, everyday life — objects, memory and people.

Shreyasi

Written by

Shreyasi

Creative Writer. I like to remember colour of trees. Currently swaying under The Overstory. More writing at https://loonyetunes.blogspot.com

What Happened To The House

A series of short fiction on shifty, everyday life — objects, memory and people.

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