Buzz off!

 

(A story about bees)

By Shevlin Sebastian 

One day, my Kochi-based friend and former colleague, Anna Mathews, called me up. She said that the tenants’ association in her building had broken up a hive and there was plenty of honey to be had. She asked whether I was interested. 

To entice me, she said, “It’s superb. I have tasted it.” 

Since I have the habit of having one teaspoon of honey every day, I did not need too much persuasion.  

When I got to her home, Anna poured a bit of honey into a saucer, which had a bit of water. Then she stirred the saucer in a clockwise manner. The honey formed a hexagonal pattern.  

“See,” she said, looking up with her expressive eyes. “Genuine stuff.” 

Later, at home when I tasted it, the honey was thicker and had a different sweetness, as compared to processed sugar. I was glad I took the bottle. 

One month later, I took the last spoon. 

And this is the message I sent Anna on WhatsApp: 

“Dear Respected Madam, this is to inform you that the last teaspoon of honey is now coursing through my small and large intestines. Please give my congratulations to the lovely bees at JM Manor. 

“Sorry to hear they have migrated to Canada under the ‘Essential Workers Category’ to better their economic prospects. The brain drain, I mean, the bee drain of the country, is alarming.” 

Anna sent a smiling emoji and said, “So cute.” 

The matter would have ended there… but it didn’t.

Anna forwarded it to her cousin Divya who then accidentally forwarded it to the WhatsApp number of the Queen Bee, the leader of the bees. Her antennae quivered, and she flapped her wings ferociously. 

The Queen Bee had been angry for some time. She knew many bees were migrating to Canada. Many left without asking her permission. They all said they could not handle the heat, dust and pollution of Kochi. They wanted to settle in a cool climate where the air was pure and the people were pleasant. 

So, she called an emergency meeting of all the bee colonies in Kochi. 

They all gathered together at the top of a tree at the Mangalavanam Bird Sanctuary near the High Court.   

The Queen Bee stared silently at the mass of bees in front of her. Then she leaned into the microphone on the lectern and said, “For some time I have been worried about the bees’ migration to Canada. Indian bees are what we are. We should be proud of our country. We should contribute our honey to the national effort.” 

“Madam,” male bee Konda Ranu, a migrant bee from Jharkhand, said, “The way migration is taking place, Canada will become an Indian country. So, we will continue to give honey to our fellow Indians.” 

“Hear, hear!” some bees shouted. 

The Queen Bee realised there was a lot of support for migration. Like humans, bees were worried about global warming. It was already announced in the ‘Bee Times’ Kochi would go under water including the trees. The general feeling was, ‘Without trees, where would we hang our hives? Buildings are too unsafe.’  

Konda continued, “I am told London is run over by Indian bees. Soon, our bees will be all over the world.” 

He paused and said, “Madam, don’t get uptight. You should float like a butterfly and not sting like a bee.”  

All the bees laughed. 

The Queen Bee waited for the laughter to die down and said, “How will our countrymen get honey if we flee? You know my slogan: ‘A self-reliant country is a powerful country.’ You know our tourist tagline: ‘Make a beeline… to God’s own country’. Then how can we flee?” 

Konda said, “People should be free to make their decisions.” 

Again, several bees flapped their wings in agreement. 

The Queen Bee was getting irritated by these constant interruptions by Konda. She knew she would have to get rid of him. Like all leaders, she did not like criticism of any sort. And although, in her bee head, she felt migrants smelt, and kept their hives dirty, and threw garbage all over the place, she would seduce Konda and sleep with him. Of course, if she did that, Konda would drop dead. That’s what happens to all male bees who copulate with the Queen Bee. 

To ensure she could entice Konda, the Queen Bee decided that after the meeting, she would go to the Ullu Mall and buy a black bra, thongs, and stiletto heels. ‘That should nail the idiot,’ she thought. ‘Goddamn migrants.’ 

The Queen Bee knew she did not have the guts and crass outspokenness of American Queen Bee Donna Drump, who openly called for all migrant bees to return to the ‘shithole’ countries they came from. “America is not for black, blue, green, yellow and brown bees,” she said. “We don’t need rainbows here. We only like the colour white.” 

Many white bees clapped when she said that. The Queen Bee realised that, deep down, most bees were racist. Even in Kochi, she knew they hated the migrants from the other states. But the Queen Bee did not want to go the Drump way and polarise the bees. 

Meanwhile, up in the tree, there was no solution to the migrant question. Should she ban it or not? Maybe, declare an emergency, like she did in 1975, and tell the Bee Police to keep a strict vigil on those trying to escape the country. But again, she was no longer not that type of Queen Bee. She liked her bees to feel free and move around and speak their minds. But not in the insolent way Konda did. 

Anyway, the Queen Bee ended the meeting and flew off to the mall. 

That night, she invited Konda for dinner. 

Konda accepted.

When he saw the Queen Bee in her stockings and thongs and high heels, he could not help but exclaim, “So cute.” 

Those were the last words he spoke as he copulated with the Queen Bee. 

As she saw the dead bee lying on the ground, the Queen Bee could not help but exclaim, “That’s one bee out of my bonnet.”