THE UNCOMMON CROW

It was a strange pecking order. An order that shattered long held notion about gentle pigeons, noisy crows and their countenance in general. Having had no opportunity earlier to watch pigeons closely, I was fascinated by their sheer numbers when they descended on my balcony in Mumbai one morning. Their cooing and chattering amused me as stood in front of the kitchen window. Hoping they would come back the next moring and every day after that, i began to put out loads of rice- leftovers that my dog made available. The crows came too – noisy as ever and often scolding me on days when i would delay putting out their meal. They waited at strategic points on the parapet, ready to swoop down on the bowl. I wasn’t sure if they were early risers or had just got into the habit of grabbing a quick bite before the dominating pigeons landed. As the messengers of love arrived with their domineering swagger, the crows obligingly stepped aside to let them have their fill.

And while the pigeons stepped aside to let them have their fill, lumps of rice onto the ground, the crows would shift and slide, making way for one latecomer among them- a single legged fellow. Though he was half a wing short, he was the only one who had the courage to goad the pigeons to make way. It was probably a similar act of bravery that cost him his looks. I saw in him what cartoonist R K Laxman had noted decades ago – a spark of intelligence and a strong survival instinct in his jet-black eyes. Eyes that reflected a quiet confidence in other creatures as well. Something that made him stand out in the murder of crows that surrounded me and my dog every day. And then one day my dog died. The bowl lay in the balcony as usual, but the winged friends didn’t turn up. Much later, the brave one put in an appearance and sat there in silence – for a long, long time. To me, it was as if he had come as a representative of the two warring parties, to bid farewell to his benefactor, before leaving for good.