The Lone Bird

“ Ouch ! Uncle I told you several times not to pinch me or I will complain to mom”, I shouted at my uncle who was training us how to fly. He gave a dirty crowish look and once again pinched me. 

“Dear mother’s pet , better do your exercise properly or next time it would be a kick on your lazy back!” He lifted his crow feet to kick me but smartly I ducked.

The drill continued. “Stretch your Left wing , right wing stretch, flap, flap, fold your legs, head forward and take off”, shouting my uncle supervised a dozen of us learning to fly long hours. 

This entire activity was to prepare us for the up coming trip when we would fly to plains to escape to escape starvation due to food scarcity. All the youth and middle aged would leave so that old, young and invalid would have sufficient food to survive till winters meltdown.

Uff my arms were aching and I wanted to quit but this demon wouldn’t let go of me. Suddenly the big crimson sun started going down , shading the entire sky with attractive colours. I was so happy that this terrible drill would come to an end with the sunset.

I was hungry and tired. I was eagerly waiting for mom to serve my supper. 

“Wow! Fish”, I looked at my mother. She pecked lovingly on my head and encouraged me to eat. At night I heard my parents talk in pensive whispers about the trip to a far off land. I over heard that grand pa would not be accompanying us ,so parents would stay back. The rest of the family of hundred members would leave for the distant land.

I am a Himalayan crow and my parents lovingly named me ‘Kakabhusandi’ the famous crow of the Ramayan fame who served lord Rama, the celestial king of Ayodhya .

 Every year , our crow clan would migrate to plains. You must be wondering ‘crow migration’ unheard of. This is our fate. Though being most useful birds in the life of human population, we are never treated with respect. We are addressed as thieves for stealing from spoons to discarded metal wires to build our nest. We are subject of mockery everywhere. Even in fables, we are projected as greedy, sometimes foolish, some times vain creatures. Our complexion is compared to coal and humans shoo us away and no one wants to have us as their pets.

On the other hand a bird called Koel is appreciated for its sweet voice. It heralds the beautiful Spring season with its melodious voice. But we know what a rascal this bird is. A parasite who lays the eggs in the nests built by our folks and our poor mother’s’ hatch the eggs and bring up the young ones as their own. We may be black in colour but Koel has a black heart. But in this superficial world who would care for our heart or emotions. 

All of us gathered on a bare rock. My uncle gave the last minute instructions. We had to fly more than 5000 miles. He made everyone to memorise the route map by repeating more than a dozen times. My parents and grand pa blessed the team and we left. Uncle was the lead member and we had to follow him.

We don’t fly like geese in a formation but fly in groups. The first three thousand miles all of us could cover comfortably making stop overs near little villages and picked up food from garbage bins. Everyday at the end of the day uncle would perch on a huge Banyan or mango tree usually in the outskirts and we followed the suit. We would sleep huddled close to each other. Next morning we would  fly early by twilight to avoid the heat of the day. We were sufficiently warned by our team leader that if anyone failed to join the team he would have to be on his own. 

We didn’t want to be left out to be lost in strange places. I would hardly sleep . Every now and then I would wake up since I had this nightmarish thought I would miss the group.

We completed most of the journey and uncle decided to brief us before the last lap. 

“Everyone listen carefully. In the next three days we will reach our destination. Those who were with me in the last trip , you are aware we have to reach the village in the south direction and we would make our temporary home on the huge Banyan tree next to the pond. The landmark to remember is the old temple near the pond. The weather is tolerable and people are pious. They leave plenty of food under the tree for avian visitors like us. We would spend time and in three months start the return trip to our home”, he finished speaking and looked at me. 

Did I notice a glint of affection for me or was it my imagination? Overall I was happy that at last we would settle down. I can sleep peacefully and not bother to wake up early to join the team to fly. That night I dreamt of my beautiful snow clad mountains and my loving parents. Mom was feeding me with my favourite food and dad was holding me. I felt so relaxed . 

Next morning, the bright rays of sun caught my eyes. I opened them slowly as if not letting the night’s dream to leave them. And whatever I saw made my little crow head spin like a top. The entire tree, branch after branch was empty. We crows also have herd syndrome. If one goes to drink water the rest would follow. So I waited a little while. No sound, no movement. All I could hear was my heart beat.

I gathered up my wits and decided to venture on my own instead of waiting. I was positive that if I fly with all my energy ,surely would catch up with them. I tried to recollect every little detail of uncle’s instruction. He had asked us to fly South.I began my flight. Thanks to the creator for giving us an in built GPS. I started flying towards the south. After flying quite a distance, I entered a city with tall buildings, vehicles moving at ant’s pace. I felt hungry. I started looking for a comfortable tree to perch. I couldn’t find a single tree good enough to take rest in the concrete jungle. I tried looking for food in the garbage bins. No luck. Most of the left overs were wrapped in plastic bags and I detest pecking through plastic.

I decided to take some rest. I could find a little place on the window of a high rise building. I tired to sleep. But just above the window was this box blowing hot air . I could hardly rest. I decided to leave the place and move onwards to go to that village where all my folks must have already reached.  

I started flying in the direction as instructed by uncle. All I could see miles after miles was tall buildings, vehicles and people. Only few trees  sprinkled in the name of greenery. Night was descending and I had no more strength to fly. I perched on a park bench. I found a small piece of biscuit thrown carelessly may be by a little boy or a girl. I greedily ate the biscuit and tried to catch up with my sleep. 

The next morning ,I opened my eyes . It was still dark. Some thin, some fat, young, old , men, women, , girls, boys all shapes and sizes were jogging, strolling or exercised. A naughty fellow picked up a pebble, threw it at me. I clumsily flew and he laughed. I left the park in disgust.

Almost two days I spent moving from one concrete jungle to another . There was no trace of either the temple , the Banyan tree or the pond. I started doubting my bird instincts to fly with the inbuilt compass. Strangely there were no local crows with whom I could communicate. 

Slowly I was losing hope and had neither the energy nor the patience to look for my folks. I was a lone crow flying in the grey skies of the concrete jungle with no proper food or shelter among the indifferent people. 

Everyone should understand that one doesn’t migrate for fun or adventure. All of us love our home , country, language and food. Nobody ever wants to die in an alien land with none to give a handful of dust or shed a tear or two. 

I reached an open patch where people had gathered in large numbers. A banner was displayed which read “ International Migratory Bird day” and people were sitting on chairs listening to a lady who was saying loudly “ it’s time to save the migratory birds. This place , today where we have assembled , once there used to be a little village with a beautiful temple and a Banyan tree which used to house hundreds of birds. But today neither the tree nor the village exists. Where would the poor birds go?”

I froze. I realised that I had not lost my way but the topography had changed. What about our team members? Where did they go? How would I track them? I just perched on an empty chair at-a little distance from a fat woman munching a sandwich. The lady tried to shoo me “ Greedy crow leave” and I noticed she was the next speaker to talk about bird migration.

What an irony! People talk about bird migration with no respect for a lone bird like me. I decided at once to leave the place and fly wherever my destiny would take me. I was always so careless that I never learnt how to go back home during my training.

Slowly I flapped my wings and was about to take off. “ Kakabhusandi, is that you!” Said a familiar voice. I turned my head to see my dear uncle. We literally beak hugged each other. We started cawing loudly. The lady was still shouting “ Would someone please drive away those nasty crows? They are distracting me...”

We didn’t hear the rest of the words since we were flying happily and I wondered why a group of crows are a called a “Murder” when the real killers talk about bird protection and celebrate migration.