Arowana

I love arowana.

Having been a four-legged-creature lover for years, my eyes were suddenly opened to the beautiful aquatic world of color years ago, by someone in my life. There was a time when we would spend long hours on lazy weekends, scouring down fish farms in the most deserted places. We would do nothing but stroll and stare at tanks after tanks of fish.

I could never appreciate the beauty in fish - after all, they do nothing but swim round and round the tank everyday, and they are not like my dogs who would lick and kiss and play with you anytime. Gosh, you can't even walk a fish - how do you then nurture feelings with one?

I started looking at arowana with more genuine interest. I love that they have a stoned but serious look on their faces, they exude grandeur with their large shiny bodies and in the way they swim around, and I love those two little whiskers at the tip of their lower lips.

I cannot profess to be an arowana expert, but I think I'm good enough to tell a beauty from one not.

Even at the height of the silly cock-headed Flower-Horn craze, I admired only arowana.


***

Six years ago, I got myself a beautiful arowana.

I had been eyeing the little fella for a while, and he had also been flirting with me through the glass tank everytime we met. He was only then a tiny little fish, barely ten inches long. I wasn't good at picking out a good arowana then, but there was just this indescribable emotional connection with this particular one.

He wasn't exactly, by 'expert' standards, a 'good catch' then.

He had that two little whiskers, alright. But he had one fin less, his tail was chipped, he was dull in color and had no sparkle in his scales. And I thought he looked sad - he wasn't a happy little fish. But he perked up everytime he saw me, and he would swim faster round and round just to be able to look at me through the glass.

Friends would say, raising arowana is no easy feat, time-consuming and expensive. It can even be heartbreaking when the fish dies, after all that you've put into it. If you must, don't buy that one. Look at it now, it won't grow to be beautiful. You're just going to waste your efforts and money.

I should've heeded my friends' advice, but I knew only to heed my heart. My heart told me only, that is the one.

So I took the risk, paid for my arowana and put it right away in a tank in my house. My arowana didn't cost me much then; it was only a small little unwanted fish. I think the seller must've been glad to let it go; he must also have thought, this is a silly girl.

Over the years, I spent enormous amounts of money and efforts to feed and raise my arowana. It grew and it grew. My arowana seemed glad too that he had finally found home. It no longer looked sad, and we spent many happy moments together - he being there for me everytime I needed someone to 'talk' to. He made me smile and cheered me up amazingly, I don't know how. Sometime later, I noticed my arowana would swim up close to the glass tank, and stick his lips right there. My arowana seemed to want to kiss my fears and worries away. How I loved my arowana.

I thought and prayed my arowana would never die on me.

My arowana grew and grew in the first two or three years. Very soon, I was buying more food, and better-grade ones. I started buying worms and prawns for him as well. I only wanted the best for him.

I had to be sure his living conditions were only best for him as well. Water had to be cleaned and treated, and filters maintained every week. This was a chore, but I did them all patiently because I wanted only my arowana to be happy and healthy.

By the time my arowana grew to almost more than a foot long, I had to throw away the old tanks and spend on four-foot one. Yes, cleaning it would pose even a bigger chore now, and the filtration system seemed more complicated for me to maintain now, but at least, my arowana would have more waters to swim in.

If my arowana is going to spend the rest of his life with me, this should be a good investment, I convinced myself.

They say, one looks most beautiful when one is happiest.

I suppose this is true for fish as well.

From a tattered and torn fish that nobody wanted, my arowana grew to be as grand as those you see winning competitions and such. Yes, he remained one-fin-less, but his tail grew out beautifully, and his eyes no longer looked dull. His scales still had flaws, but my! The colors and shine he exuded from his body.

He swam around with dignity and pride. He was a playful fish who would play with friends who came by, and even with my dogs. My dogs adored him.

And most of all, my pride turned out to be one true happy fish. I was proud of what I had done, and of what he had become.

But happiness eludes me always.

One year ago, my arowana changed. No, he was still healthy, still big and bright and beautiful. But he no longer wanted to play best friends with me.

I continued feeding him with prawns and worms. I continued cleaning his tank, making sure he would never fall sick. He continued to feed off the food I gave him. But feeding time became simply feeding time.

He no longer perked up and swam with excitedness everytime I came near. He no longer swam to the glass to give me my kisses. He would swim away when I came close, and he wouldn't look at me when I tried talking to it.

It hurt, because he looked happy playing with my dogs.

A while later, my arowana grew sad. And I couldn't figure out why.

Hadn't I been giving him the best foods? Hadn't I been making sure he stayed comfortable? Hadn't I continued trying to talk to him, to play with him? Hadn't I shown him enough love and care over all these six years?

I wished my arowana could tell me about his sadness. But then, arowana don't talk, even if they wanted to.

My arowana grew so sad, he started refusing food from me. His scales deteriorated, and he lost weight and his beautiful shine. His two whiskers drooped all the time, and his one-fin-less became somehow more prominent.

Petrified, I started asking around for help . Was my arowana sick? Was he dying?

No. My arowana wasn't ill. No one could figure out for me what had happened to my arowana.

I knew. I knew that my arowana had simply become an unhappy fish.

Maybe my arowana had grown sick and tired of me, his long-time owner. Maybe he yearned for a change of environment, a new tank, a new owner to play with. Maybe he wanted to swim in the ocean even - where he could meet and play around with other fish.

Let him go, I heard them say. He is not sick, and he is not going to die anytime soon. But you're going to continue feeding it, cleaning his tank, talking to him. And he is not going to appreciate anymore of that. You're going to be wasting your money, your efforts, and your love on something that no longer reciprocates. Sell him back to the fish shop, I'm sure he'll fetch a good price.

He's a good catch now.

It took me a long long time, trying to figure out what went wrong, and what I could do to make things better for him. It seemed there was nothing I could do to make it better - except to let him go. Maybe that would be the only way my arowana would be a happy fish that he once was again.

My arowana had earned his wings, and was now ready to fly away. I had to learn to recognize that.

I gave him to the fish shop; I didn't sell him. I refuse any monetary gains out of him.

Nobody saw the good and beauty in him six years ago, but I did. I loved and nurtured him from a sad beginning, just so he could be the most beautiful arowana he could become. I didn't raise him so I could make money out of him.

I only wanted him to be happy and to be with me for the rest of his life. I had never thought of ever letting him go.

He was a sad little fish, but I nurtured him to be a beautiful one that nobody ever believed he could become. Now that he's all grown to be one true beauty, other people are eyeing him and want to make him theirs. Do they want to make money out of you? Or do they truly appreciate you? I'll never know.

My arowana, you still have one fin less. Your scales are still imperfect. Your tail is prone to deterioration. You need only the best care to make you beautiful again. You needed me all this while, but it seems you don't need me now.

I hope you find the next new owner who would love you as much as I did, and who would clean your tank and feed you the best prawns like I painfully did.

I will always be thinking in whose home, and in whose tank you would belong to next.

***

Raising arowana is indeed no easy feat. And as I've learned, it can be a painful, heartbreaking experience as well.

Will I still look for another one? I don't think so, but I'll never know.

The right arowana for you doesn't just appear in just about any fish shop.

I don't even know if I'd ever step into a fish shop again. Even if I do, I don't know if I would look at arowana the same way I did before. I am fearful of that emotional connection, and listening to my heart again.

Most of all, I'll still be thinking of my arowana that I once had.

Maybe I should've just stuck to those damned ugly Flower Horns.