Alas, no spectacular flights of supersonic aircraft enter into this saga. Unheralded by buglers and drummers, this fly past is inspired by an encounter with that two-winged six-legged bane of the human race aka the housefly.

That a creature as ignoble as a fly should inspire prose will raise eyebrows in many quarters, but I am in excellent company. Ogden Nash pithily encapsulates the entire philosophy of worthlessness in this couplet inspired by the fly – one that has left a deep impression on me since childhood.

“God in His wisdom made the fly,

and then forgot to tell us why”

Ogden Nash

William Blake finds much in common with man and pest, humbly asking “Am I not, A fly like thee?” Walter de la Mare, enamoured, gazes at the world from perspective of the Musca, “How large unto the fly must little things appear…”; while Aesop too wove his fables around this impertinent busybody. It’s a salute to our free world where each is free to choose their own drab muse.

The fly past saga

The fly-past saga started on a pleasant early morning. The sun wasn’t up yet; there was a gentle breeze and birdsong in the air. The gulmohar was blooming a vibrant red, its fallen blossoms providing a red carpet welcome to the early morning walkers. There I was, at peace with myself and the world, thinking of no harm or ill-will towards any living creature, as I set out to complete at least half of the 10,000 daily steps that my Fitbit demanded of me.  I walked with the jaunty step of one who is confident of achieving an easy target – when along came one of these little creatures and erased all goodwill much as a meteor once erased all traces of dinosaur life.

The fly alights on your face. You wave it off, but it seems to have taken a liking to you, and there it is back on your nose ere you’ve taken ten further steps. Then the pantomime begins. You repeat the wave of your hand, the fly responds with its own set of choreographed movements – flit, hover, buzz, alight. With each repeat, you wave more impatiently, then imperiously and finally frantically; and the fly reciprocates faster and quicker, in tempo allegro. It grows ever bolder, hovering tantalisingly just out of your field of vision or even more brazenly, hitching a ride on your hair.

You try various strategies.

• You try waving the misguided creature towards more attractive prospects. Like garbage bins. Like a rotting flower bed. But clearly, flies appear to have varying tastes, just like us humans. This one seems to be connoisseur among flies. It stays stubbornly with you.

• You wonder if it would drop down with exhaustion if you can prevent it from alighting. To that end you wave your arms frantically. Other morning walkers stop and stare.

• You walk faster. After all you are the giant here, right? You can easily outpace a tiny fly. Wrong. The little beast catches up with you in no time while you are still catching your breath. Just how much energy does this insect have?

• Next you try to distract yourself by ruminating about questions of a scientific nature like the one above. Where does the fly get its energy from? ‘On what meat doth it feed’ …etc? Where lies the storehouse of its energy? Does a fly have fat cells? Can a fly therefore get obese? Has anyone ever heard of a fat fly? While all these questions are vastly absorbing, they do not serve the purpose you intended. You are aware all the while of that tiny grey winged creature hovering around you!

Your morning ruined, you decide to head back to your fly-proofed home. You console yourself with thoughts of its unflinching loyalty. A hundred steps from home, you realize it is no longer with you. Flown away, to better pastures. Fickleness, thy name is fly.

And Fitbit reminds you, rather gleefully, that you have 9000 steps still pending.