Lady Locust and Count Cockroach

The shores of Juhu Beach are strewn with litter. Plastic waste and other pieces of garbage are belched ashore by the sea. Amid the filth, hawkers establish food stalls. People flock these eateries, gorge on missal pav and pav bhaji. Half the food is consumed; the other half is dropped on the sand. Paper plates are dumped on the shore, waves swallow these plates, lick them clean and again the sea belches them out. This process is continuous. 

In the colony of dung heaps, there was one particular heap of filth that stood out. It towered over the other piles of garbage and was rich with excreta. This particularly large heap was the home of Count Cockroach. He was young and handsome. His tentacles were long and indicative of his sharpness. His silky black torso was a subject of envy among his peers.

"The sand softens the texture of his torso", said the Cockroach of the Sewage drains. 
"No, he's born with handsome features", said lady Locust in his defence. 
Lady Locust harboured feelings for the Count, ever since she laid eyes on him. Her mother tried to reason with her; nothing could come out of such a mismatched Alliance. But lady locust, like most young locusts her age, was adamant. She would secretly watch the count take his morning sprint. He would dash between overturned plates and leftovers. The most defining feature of the count was his wings. Wings were a sign of handsomeness and bravado among the Cockroach class. The count wasn't oblivious to the locust’s watchful eyes. He would flutter his wings and oscillate his tentacles in a slow seductive way to entice her. 

One day a large group of college students squatted on the shore for a picnic. The insect colony was delighted. As expected, the students left behind unfinished food. The cockroaches scurried among the chips packets. The Count was leading the way in the operations. An army of Ants lined up with determination to collect the best of the leftovers. A bevy of bees buzzed to and fro, dung beetles soaked on a dollop of jam; flies flittered from one bread crumb to another. Lady locust found a particularly juicy apple core and dug her tentacles into it. While she sucked the apple clean of its juiciness, the conceited Mr. Cricket grabbed it and bore his tentacles into it. Lady Locust wailed with anguish, nobody paid heed to her cries for help. The count was summoned. He arrived to the rescue of the locust in distress. He grabbed the apple from the cricket and handed it to Lady Locust. Thus began a whirlwind romance between the two. 

The count would hover outside Lady Locust's sand dune. He would sway his tentacles and she would whisper back in her croaking chirp. The sound he emitted was alien to her and her croaking was gibberish to him. The only form of communication they had was physical affection. The dung piles would come alive with the sound of their music. 

Everything seemed well between the two until a fateful September day. It was pouring cats, dogs and cows in the city of Mumbai. The insect colony had taken refuge under solidified garbage. Large processions of human beings were accumulating at the beach. Almost every group carried an idol. Some idols were small, others were massive. The insect colony was rattled to the tentacles by the loud thumping music. Lady Locust was frightened. The count enveloped her in his wings and they snuggled together. 

The humans at the beach turned rowdy. Men smeared in pink powder ran to and fro and kicked sand into the air. This display of hooliganism dislodged many insects that were in hiding. All hell broke loose. 

The bugs scurried, the ants sprinted in all directions. The red ants watched from a distance but did nothing to help their distant kin. Cockroaches dug deeper into the soil. This proved fatal since crabs attacked them. During the chaos, lady Locust ran out of hiding and took refuge under a food stall. The Count tried to follow her but got trapped meters from the stall. He shivered in fright and dodged footfalls that crashed on the sand. A momentary lapse of judgement and he would get crushed. Lady Locust watched with horror. She let go of her better judgement and lunged forward to his aid. She intertwined her wing in his. 

They ran together, wing in wing, tentacle in tentacle. They were a human foot's distance away from safety, when a human foot landed on the Count and crushed him. 

Lady tugged at what remained of him, but he was still and unresponsive. She knew it was over. But she couldn't bring herself to move. There he was, the love of her life lying motionless and lifeless. She wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't flow. She wanted to run under the stall, but her feet had ceased to function. She bent over him and caressed him with her tentacles. Her mother called out to her from a distance, but Lady was lost in thought. With a sudden gust of wind, a deep shadow fell over her; a larger shoe landed on her and crushed her to death. 

The two lay motionless on the sand. The insect colony watched their romantic tragedy from a distance. When the crowds dispersed and calmness settled over the beach. The insects that had hitherto been hiding, began to stir. 

The count, who had been lifeless all along, stirred and woke up. He momentarily looked at the dead locust, then crawled towards her corpse and bore his tentacles into her motionless cadaver. He began to nibble on her remains, when he had his fill, he turned around and scurried to his dung heap.