Praying for a victim!

The Praying Mantis is an insect that gets its name from the long and prominent front legs that it possesses, which are bent and held together in a position like that of folded hands—a gesture often used while praying. Mantises are part of a smaller group within the ‘Mantids’, of which there are about 1800 species all over the world.

These insects have triangular heads poised on a long "neck”, and can turn their heads 180 degrees to survey their surroundings. Their two large compound eyes have three small simple eyes between them. Though they look like innocent, calm herbivores that stay still for long periods, they are in fact bloodthirsty carnivores which capture their prey using those ‘praying’ forelegs! These front legs also have rows of spines that help to pin down the prey.

They eat moths, crickets, spiders, flies, grasshoppers, and the really large mantids can even eat frogs, lizards, and small birds! The mantids use lightning quick reflexes which are not even visible to the naked eye, to catch their prey. The Chinese were so impressed with the Mantis that two martial art forms were developed in China based on the movements and fighting strategies of the Praying Mantis.

“No… no.., I don’t like this. You’ve eaten how many leaves of the Zinnia plants, you say? Fifty- five? Fifty-five??” Horace the Garden Lizard almost convulsed in horror. He recovered, gulped a few times, and said, “No. Not possible.” “Oh come on, those are just leaves”, said the butterfly. “I am not eating up flowers, am I? Nobody’s even going to notice a few missing leaves in a huge garden.”

“I won’t notice one, I can understand two, and I may forgive three. But fifty-five at one go? If you ate that many when you were a kid, who knows how much you may eat up now? Old habits die hard”, said Horace firmly, his face stubborn. “But that was when I was a kid. Just a little caterpillar!” moaned the butterfly. “Why can’t you let me in now?”

“Never. Eating up fifty five leaves and spoiling the garden is just criminal. And there is no entry into my garden for those with a criminal history”, said Horace, and that was that. The butterfly flew away, muttering under her breath. She had hoped to find a healthy Zinnia plant to lay her eggs.

Horace smiled to himself in satisfaction. Nobody, not even the tiniest creature was allowed into his garden without his permission, and he interviewed every creature who sought admission inside. Horace called himself the Garden Guardian, the one who stood watch over the beautiful garden that belonged to a landlord. And funnily, all creatures obeyed him, and waited for his permission to enter.

Even the neighbourhood feline slunk away, scared, after seeing Horace’s bulging eyes, blood red throat and menacing attitude. Neither did she want to catch Horace, nor did she want to catch any mice in the garden. Anyway with Horace ruling the garden with an iron fist, there didn’t seem to be much chance of a rat surviving there anyway.

Horace was of course, quite proud of his position. He had assumed the responsibility, when once, by chance, the garden had fallen to ruin, with the well drying up and the plants dying, and several of the plants had been eaten up by insects and infestations. All the creatures living there had left the place one by one.

Only Horace had stayed back, and he felt proud that he had persevered, for, one day, when the rains burst forth unexpectedly, the garden also burst into bloom. And that day, Horace assumed the guardianship of the place, wowing to keep it green and beautiful always and to be careful about whom he let into his garden.

He was quite possessive about who ate what, and how much of it. He tried not to let many plant-eating insects inside, because that would spoil all the plants. He wouldn’t let many carnivorous creatures inside either, because then the violence got too much and nobody would listen to him. So he kept the garden population to a minimum. But for a very, very, long time, the garden was entirely in Horace’s control.

It wasn’t a very pleasant experience for the creatures which had got admission into the garden either. They didn’t like being scolded and controlled by the Garden Guardian all the time, and often complained to each other in whispers about it. They hoped that some day, Horace would stop being so high-handed.

Then one day, the inevitable happened. Two plant-fleas got inside stealthily and happily set up a home among the plants, hardly seen by anyone. But their babies multiplied. The babies grew up and then they multiplied as well! Very soon, all the plants were infested with fleas. This annoyed Horace to no end. He went around trying to eat up the fleas on his own. But there were too many!

And unfortunately for Horace, while he was trying to eat up the fleas in the west side of the garden, a few grasshoppers came in by the east wall! And while he tried to drive the grasshoppers away, some spiders managed to build their cobwebs just between the bigger leaves! It was total mayhem, and now all the creatures outside the garden knew that this was a good time to try and get in, because Horace couldn’t manage being both the flea-controller AND the Garden Guardian.

After several unsuccessful attempts at solving the problem, Horace confided in an earthworm. “I need an assistant”, said Horace, a little sadly. “I am growing old, and these fleas will be the death of me. My beautiful garden will end up in ruins again!”

The earthworm thought for a while. “I’ll spread the word”, he said. “But what kind of assistant are you looking for?”
“Someone who is calm and composed, who doesn’t lose his cool like me in the face of adversity”, panted the lizard. “Someone who is a nice guy, not the type who’ll create trouble.”

The earthworm promised to do his best. Word spread, but no one wanted to be Horace’s assistant. The main reason was that Horace had been really mean in keeping the garden all to himself all those days, and nobody thought he deserved help. Horace was in despair. His garden was going from bad to worse. Then one day, there turned up in front of him an insect he had never seen before. It was quite large, green in colour all over, and it had long legs. Its forelegs, were in fact broad and folded together as if in prayer. Horace stared at it in wonder.

“That’s a Praying Mantis”, whispered the earthworm to Horace.
“You mean, he’s very religious?” whispered Horace back.
“Well, it definitely does look like it”, said the earthworm.
Horace started asking the newcomer some questions. “Can you get rid of the fleas? Can you take care of the garden when I am not there? What about your diet? What do you eat? Will you eat the plants?”
The Praying Mantis stood silently. He didn’t answer at all.
“Is he dumb?” whispered Horace.
“Maybe it’s a part of his religious ways”, whispered the earthworm.
“He didn’t even say anything about what he eats”, hissed Horace.
“Maybe he fasts too”, hissed the earthworm back.

Horace was happy. Here was a perfect assistant! Someone who didn’t seem to eat nor talk, and who seemed to be praying all the time. He just hoped the Mantis could keep intruders out of the garden. The following days were a dream for Horace. The Mantis seemed to be very efficient at keeping out intruders. Strangely, even some of the existing residents of the garden seemed to be disappearing. However, Horace himself never saw the Mantis move from his position.

He seemed to always sit still in his praying position. Every time, Horace thought of asking the Mantis, he reminded himself, “He’s praying, I shouldn’t disturb him.” Very soon, the garden was under control. In fact there was not a single other creature in the garden except Horace and the Mantis. Horace half-believed that the eviction of the garden’s residents was a result of Horace’s prayers.

“You are a wonderful assistant, Mantis”, said Horace to the praying Mantis that evening. The Mantis had grown almost as large as him, and Horace didn’t notice his large eyes staring at him in a hungry sort of way. “But why do you pray so much? I don’t pray at all!” he laughed.

“Say your prayers, Horace”, whispered the Mantis.
Horace stopped laughing. “What’s that you said?” The Mantis had spoken for the first time.
“Say your prayers, lizard”, said the Mantis quietly. “You’re going to be my dinner.”
Horace squealed in terror and tried to escape, but the Mantis caught him, fast as lightning. “I thought you were praying all the time”, wailed Horace. “I was preying on my victims, not praying”, smiled the Mantis, and gave a lethal bite to the lizard. And that was the end of the Garden Guardian.