Original Writings

Rabbit on the Fence

Rabbit sat on a wooden fence, staring at the stars, those heavenly bodies that twinkled up there, shining off his eyes as if they were, some kind of reflector that truck drivers kept a look out for, while traveling with goods in the night. If only, the world could begin to understand whatever that was going on inside Rabbit’s head. His cousin Hare, happened to strike a one-way conversation with him the other night, telling him how everyone in this world is intertwined to one’s fate, irrespective of whether one dies or not. Rabbit had decided to remain silent during the entirety of this talk. That was Rabbit. The one that was silent. The one that listened. The one who would rather have discussions in his brain that was sized five centimeters, rather than having them out in the open. Yet, Rabbit was known to be social, a facade that was convincing enough to make everyone forget the truth that he craved solitude. This was a dilemma, because Rabbit was to lead his own colony one day. Males of his age were expected to train, ready themselves for the day they would have to battle with others of his kind and dominate, so that the strongest buck among them would lead. This wasn’t a matter of royalty or hierarchy, because such ideas were non existent to his kind. Anyone could lead, it just so happened that he didn’t want to.


‘You are Rabbit’, Cousin Hare had told. ‘You are Rabbit, and you will always be. You are married to your fate, your duty whether you die or not. You were born blind, but your mother took you under her until you were blessed with sight. You may not owe anyone for that, but certainly you owe it to your mother, to prove that she raised the best buck among all the seeds that were sown, amongst the does.’



Rabbit’s fate, Rabbit thought. He was told that it was his own. He found that hard to believe, considering how he didn’t have a choice in deciding, even the kind of fur that he wore over his flesh. He may have been born blind, but that was never his choice. It was true what they said, that we inherit from our parents their trauma, never truly understanding what it is. Rabbit had watched it on TV the other day, he didn’t clearly understand what that meant then, but that made sense now. Rabbit hungered for freedom. Rabbit was fed purpose.


‘Oh! Look, there’s a rabbit on our fence!’, a human exclaimed, watching Rabbit perched, on the edge.


‘Look how cute he looks’, said another.


‘Got any carrots in the kitchen?’, said the first one as she went back inside their house, searching.


Humans. How easily they make everything one-dimensional, Rabbit thought to himself as he hopped down from the fence.

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