Bird-brained

Stop staring at me, I muttered, trying to concentrate on the cup of coffee and the newspaper. He stared without a blink. Please go! I mumble...

Stop staring at me, I muttered, trying to concentrate on the cup of coffee and the newspaper. He stared without a blink. Please go! I mumbled louder, focussing my attention on his eyes. He stared back, look for look, then rolled from one foot to another like a drunken sailor, did an about turn and fled.

I don8217;t know whether I am growing into an old weirdo, whether I am lonely, or whether this is only one more Parsi peculiarity surfacing. But I have started talking to the crows! Now this is not my fault, really. My grandmother tolerated their persistent chatter with pleasure. My mother fed them 8216;jilebis8217; whenever something good happened in the family. My mother-in-law enjoyed their prattle and put out an occasional morsel for their approval, as she cooked. When a crow called at your window he was heralding a visitor! So crow-related beliefs have been handed down the passage of time.

It all began with the palm. We have large bay windows, and there is a baby palm peeping into my flat, on its way up to the stars. When it first poked its little head into my flat, I was alarmed. But now I am so fond of it as it nods good morning each day, dances with the breeze, smiles at the sun and nestles the crows in its lap, that I cannot imagine my dining room without it. I have crows for guests, swinging on the palm branches, breezing up and down, bringing in bits of straggly foodstuff and giving me company. They make me feel protected and secure by being around. I think they are grateful that I allow them the use of my sill as their ample dining table! I feel a certain sense of peace as I watch them peck each other affectionately or just sit together, gazing at the world go by below from their high perch.

Attached as I am to these much-maligned plain janes of the feathered species, I was upset when my maid rushed in one afternoon with the news that 8216;8216;ek kauwa patang ke manje mein us building par phas gaya hai!8217;8217; This happened in the lane next to our society. Oh my God! I panicked. Please don8217;t let him die! After a while, the quiet of the afternoon was pierced by the siren of fire engines 8211; the firemen all smiling. I sent my maid for more news. Shortly she returned 8211; the bird had been set free!

You lucky rascal! I grinned at him the next morning as he was meticulously arranging his breakfast on my sill. Men kill men all the time, and here they were rushing to save your silly friend! He stopped in his tacks, cocked his head to one side and grinned back.