For some time now my nose has been behaving strangely. Initially it seemed like a pimple inside. Painful, but I was sure it would go away. But when it refused panic set in.
Although my nose is not in the least roman shaped, I was concerned. As an adolescent I would twist it regularly hoping it would reshape it self and I would resemble a Hollywood star. But this was serious stuff.
After several capsules and ointments it has expanded to various sizes and changed colours. In between I had visions that it might mutate into something new and surprise me.
In Metamorphosis Kafka’s protagonist wakes up one day to realize that he had turned into a cockroach. There are many legends of humans transforming into an animal or half animal. When I read such stories I would be amused but did not consider it with horror. That is until the devil took over my nose and scared the bejesus out of me.
What do such stories tell us about ourselves? Since it has been proved that 98% of our genes are similar to monkeys, can other creatures be far behind? However, while we might want to acquire some superhuman facilities of a particular animal (or the opposite sex) but we would never want to look like them. We would still like to walk on two feet and wear designer sunglasses while running as fast as the cheetah. We still like to look good. Physically. In a human way.
More than DNA this is what separates us from animals. Do dogs ever dream of becoming beautiful? Ruff had no such confusion. As a member of the canine family all he was interested in is eating, watching TV, barking absent mindedly and curling up to sleep. There were humans working for his well being (cooking, changing channels on the TV) and reminding him when to take a leak.
However much as I envy that he never had to check his emails nor update his Facebook account, I would not want to mutate into a dog. A new nose is what I wish for.
When the hurly burly is done and all the medicines of the world are exhausted, I still hope my nose would emerge sharper, better and handsomer.