by Korou Khundrakpam
A Roadwidener does just that. It widens roads. I was only six when I first saw a Roadwidener myself. I was walking along the east-dyke when I saw it lazing around sprawled on top of a mound of earth. It was lying perfectly still. I would have thought it was dead if not for its tongue slipping out from its closed mouth occasionally to lick the damp earth beneath. A single lap every five six minutes. I stood there slouched against the earthen wall for about an hour observing it, so I know. In those days they were few in number and very hard to find. So it was natural for a six years old child to be intrigued by the beast. Far from the uninspired picture of the Roadwidener in my school textbook, seeing this huge beast in real was very overwhelming, what with the rows of booted legs and the perpetual grin on its face. And it was not that it was grinning at me. It didn’t even notice my presence. They are extremely shortsighted creatures, a thing I learnt later on, and its other organs of perception are equally blunt. The grin was a permanent attribute of its face, it remained so whether it was grazing or walking or drowsing off. And it had these long rows of horns sticking out along both sides of its belly. Like the kind of huge boats you see in movies with oars sticking out from both sides of its hull. They looked dirty and worn out, with mud still dripping off from it. It is just back from work perhaps. After quietly observing it for some time I thought I would let it let it rest in peace. And I had to reach home before it grew dark too.
