I know , I just introduced myself. I can't write something so soon. I have to wait till this feeling sinks. 'I have opened my new blog account'. 'I am a blogger now'. W-O-W!
But as the title suggests I am restless. I have no particular topic to write on. But I thought why not yap some bull-crap that no one is going to read anyway. I will. I promise. (remember tall promise, or rather taller promise?)
I scanned through various topics to write on and have zeroed in on my friend the crow. Why? Don't you ask me any questions. This is my blog. The truth is the crow looks far appealing a topic of bloggersation, than anything else. So much for being jobless. There is no word called - Bloggersation. So? This is my blog . Remember?
So here we go. My friend the crow is a humble animal or rather a bird. He (I may not know if it's a she, close look is not quite permitted) is happy nibbling at the tiny pieces of bread and big open egg-shells that I throw at him. No wonder , he never guessed that I threw those egg shells to hurt or shoo him away when I don't wish to see his black ugly face. He eats it quietly. Says a silent thank you. (I would like to believe that). Hurries back to his abode and keeps cawing.
One of these days I saw him with another one of his kin. They both seem to discuss something quite attentively. A nod, a caw and a silent sprinkle of some fresh shit sealed their deal or whatever it was. I saw them once again the next day, same time, same venue, same get-up. This time they nodded a little less , cawed more and both of them shat. In the meantime, I started sensing in me a distaste for this new friend of my friend the crow. He/she took all of his time. They met , discussed, nodded, cawed and shat. I was jealous that I was not party to this all-so-important meeting that took place, like a ritual, everyday on my bedroom window.
What had I done to be disowned by the only animal/bird friend I had managed to make in all of my twenty-one years? Tough question. No answer. The freshly opened egg-shells couldn't persuade him to look or fly my way. He had , of-course, with his new-found friend sampled a lot of meat, fish and similar non-vegetarian delicacies that we tambrams couldn't afford at home.
For the next couple of days I was busy (Ya!) and I no more had a clue on what those crows (ya, its no more he and his friend) were hatching. I used to give it a thought almost everyday but never thought of it seriously. I always wondered what they both might have discussed. Was it me? Was it that they were not crows and great men of wisdom and learning who had transformed themselves in to crows to survive in this mortal world? I wondered till the time I couldn't believe myself spending so much time on those two crows.
Hardly a week went by, and I saw both of them perched atop the big jamun tree bang opposite my bedroom window. This time they seemed a lot less formal and there were no signs of fresh shit in the vicinity for the next 15 mins. I got bored and rolled back on my bed.
I hadn't had a clue that would be my last glimpse of my friend the crow. It seems that they both went and sat on a certain electric pole and my friend , the crow fell down on the ground rock solid, without any warning or shock and died at the spot. Was it suicide? I didn't know. You may ask, how do you know if its the same crow? I knew it. I never saw him again. I never saw them again.
And I knew it was him.
Amen.
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