The pond was a shallow one. The water level would barely reach halfway up a grown-up’s shin when it was full. On particularly hot season, it dried up. One had been curious about the pond for a while, for a couple of reasons.
One of the perplexing points had been the sport itself. Considering the less-than-knee-depth of the pond, one had thought that it would have been easier to just get inside the water and catch the fish by hand or a large net. There would be little sense in waiting for the fish to take the bait and draw them out.
Another point, that one thought was a more pressing and existentialistically fundamental, is that it would have been impossible to have grown fish in the pond. Yet, one found people fishing on it.
How is that possible? One had asked.
“It’s simple. The fish were brought in a bucket and thrown in there. Then they were fished out one by one.”
“People do weird stuff and stupid things.”
…. Can’t argue with that!
The BBC’s flagship film programme wittertainment duo often squabble over what a film is about: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is not about spying, it’s about men distrusting each other; Jaws is not about shark, it’s about infidelity. One concluded that this pond and its attraction were of a similar vein. It’s not about fishing, it’s about having the time and space to just sit still and enjoy doing
nothing it, something one reveres and practices in a different set up.