The magical ladybirds

RS Dalal

It was early spring in the late ’50s. I was about eight years old. My father, an agriculture scientist, was immersed in research about inventing new high-yielding varieties of groundnut at Punjab Agricultural University (PAU), Ludhiana. He would cycle down several miles to the fields on the campus early in the morning and return at sunset. I insisted on accompanying him one day. When I found him reluctant to take me along, I created a bit of a scene. 

Soon I was with him on his bicycle to the fields. The moment we reached there, I was running through the open fields in sheer excitement. I was startled by so many insects of bright red colours with black dots, flitting about or fluttering in the air and before I could shriek, some of them were on my arms and clothes.

‘Oh dear, don’t call them insects,’ my father rushed to my side. ‘These are lovely creations of nature, charming little beetles, affectionately called ladybirds in several countries. They feed on insects like aphids that are harmful to the plants,’ he said as he lovingly held one of them in his palm and tried to strike my friendship with them. 

‘Look closely, what a magical red colour with perfect black dots — nature’s mystical creation,’ he fondly explained. Soon, I was frolicking around, and however tight I might hold them in my fist, these would slip out from somewhere. 

Now, my mind was running wild. I wanted to take them home and the next day to my school to share the joy with my best friend and bench-mate. I cajoled out a small glass bottle from the farm attendant and pushed many of them in it. ‘Oh no, all of them will die before you reach home,’ he came rushing. 

Sharing and joining me in my excitement, he pierced a tiny hole in the lid with a sharp object to let the air go in. Next morning, I quietly carried the bottle with the beetles in my school bag and during the recess was excitedly showing them off to my friend under a tree, when a bully of a classmate came out and stomped on one of the ladybirds. 

We flew into a rage and took him on and a furious fight broke out, till some seniors separated us. The bully had a black eye and we two had torn buttons and bruises here and there. The delicate gorgeous ladybirds had become a school sensation. While at home, I got a tongue lashing for being insensitive and cruel to the delicate creatures. 

As I grew up, my love and admiration grew even more for these dainty harbingers of spring. So, when it is spring and my grandkids are around, the joy is boundless as together we run after the exquisite ladybirds in the parks: playing, teasing, catching and then blowing them away gently. Never ever thinking of trapping them in a bottle, though!

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