Dreams are so weird. But this one that I had this night
does not feel too strange. It is either sixth sense or nonsense as most dreams
often are. Anyways, thought I should put it up before it evaporates. And by the
way, does anyone know the spelling of ‘disillusionmen’? Don’t know why I keep
making this typo, sorry.
Apologies: Pratima H
DRUMS were being beaten in frenzy. Bugles were rising in
their decibels. Huge red flags were being waved in full flourish. Someone was
about to enter the jungle.
It appeared to be an important, and an unceasing dark
night.
Eagles of all colours and beaks thronged around the big
rock. Somewhere in a corner, atop a disheveled bush of marigolds, perched
tenuously, were all the sparrows too.
The fear in their feet was swimming in their eyes as HE
could see from the distance.
HE had spent two hours already, being elbowed out by other
eagles, and trying to keep his foothold in the teeming droves.
HE had already asked his friend, an indigo-coloured eagle
with white claws, about the whole fuss that they were witness to since evening.
His friend, busy preening himself, had laughed. “Don’t you know?
What a
hole you live in comrade! It’s about the pink sparrow.”
“Oh!” HE had gone into a self-flagellating silence after
hearing this.
The case of the pink sparrow had left him feeling a tinge
of shame and shock at his brethren and he still had not mustered the will to
share it aloud.
Breaking the trail of his thoughts, rose a deep, calm but
strong voice that overwhelmed the din in an instant.
The owl had arrived, finally.
As the owl gestured everyone to take their seats and asked
the green sparrow to step forward, HE admired and understood the mystery about
this wise bird.
HE had always wondered, “Is the owl wise because it stays
awake in the wee hours and survives a dark night? Or is it the other way
round?”
Perhaps, today the answer would present itself, HE hoped.
The green sparrow bowed in genuine deference and started
conveying a collective request, “Thou Just Bird of our jungle, we beseech you
to kindly punish that eagle for his greed. The eagle has wronged a sparrow very
brutally this time.”
The owl shifted a firm piercing gaze towards the herd of
the powerful birds.
They started passing the gaze around like a hot potato.
The black-eyed, bluntly-beaked one said, “Not me, I had
just stolen and eaten an egg last Monday. It must be the brown one that one had
killed the sparrow it had caged for five years.”
“I very well had the mighty right to do so, shut up you
moron!” the brown one driveled. “It was my slave. It was getting too boring and
un-amusing.”
Some eagles around it tutted and supported its grief
sympathetically.
They pointed a claw to a white eagle. “That’s the one to
argue with. It made a sparrow bleed this very morning. It even clipped its
wings with its poignant beak, for all we know. Surely it had no reason.”
“Of course I had the right provocation you nasty
curtain-twitchers. That little ignorant bird had no idea of this jungle’s
rules. It was flashing its red plumes and dancing on a flower happily.” The
accused made a plea.
Another wave of understanding floated among the eagles.
Provoked eagles get angry and they have all the right and
means to butcher any bird then. That was, indeed, the manifesto of the jungle.
“Who is it then?” The owl attempted another probe.
He gently hinted the sparrows to point out the accused.
A trembling wing fluttered and everyone’s attention was
brought to a majestic, huge, grey-tinged eagle with the sharpest claws among
the entire flock.
The owl did not waste any minute to start questioning the
rather intimidating beast.
“Did you or did you not pounce on the pink sparrow and
tore it to pieces?”
“Yes,” came a completely unapologetic answer.
The beast continued, “I very much did. I was hungry. The
stupid little bird had the unabashed nonchalance to sing at a high pitch after
the sun had set. It invited its murder in sheer chutzpah. We are the birds of
prey. We are not humans. We still belong to the species called ‘animals’ if I
may remind. There is no demarcation between our carnal needs and rightful ways
thankfully. Why are we even summoned here if I can ask?”
Its argument triggered a series of noises in the hordes.
“Yes, the humans are supposed to keep their ‘id’ under
control with the layer called ‘super ego’ as I could gather from the book by
some Freud that I had to chew during last year’s famine. It was so distasteful,
that book and others. Such disgusting rules of co-existence! Sensitivity and
all that balderdash! Predatory birds like us are not endowed with any mercy or concern.
Don’t we know?”
Everyone hailed in agreement. Shrieks of support and anger
got infuriated next.
“The sparrows are weak. They are our prey, since
evolution. It’s our right to gnaw at them, shred them to feathers as and when we like. Why so
much brouhaha over it? It’s not that we eat their young ones on normal days. We
spare them, unless there is an exceptional day. We eat the little ones or the
eggs only on a rare mood. Their mothers should be thankful. These ingrate fauna
I tell you!” someone spoke.
Another one joined, “This can not go on. It’s unfair.
Don’t these tender birds know their fate is to be chewed to saliva unless they
can stay in their holes? It’s their prerogative to defend themselves, not ours not
to attack. Last month also you called up an enquiry unnecessarily. After all,
it was just a case of a morning orgy. A sparrow tried to be a rather too-early
bird and a klatch of fifty vultures happened to be around. We and they did not
kill it, for your information. Its wings were only mangled while we had fun. It
was a mob thing. Majority is always right, even if it is a wrong time. In fact,
you should suspend those hour-limitations of yours from henceforth is what I
demand. Why this curbing of hours to prey? We need to survive after all!”
The swarm rose in angst, thumping their feet and soon the
noise billowed into a thick, dark, monstrous elegy. The eagles were enraged,
and the owl knew it had to deliver the judgement fast.
“Ok, calm down, please, I have arrived on a fair conclusion.”
It insisted everyone, using its firm posture and heritage once again.
It worked. The fierce crowd lulled momentarily, allowing
the owl to deliver the decision quickly.
“I can understand that the eagles have been wronged. Their
rights have been unjustly challenged and the precincts of a sparrow’s duties in
this jungle have been violated, even if it’s been in ignorance. The sparrows,
certainly, have not been conducting themselves discreetly. To make matters
worse, they have started demanding a normal, fearless life, which, by the
promulgation of destiny, am afraid, is not for them to ask. I hence, come to
conclude, that these disrespectful sparrows should be given an extreme
punishment. I ordain them to be put inside the hot balloon and sent into the black
hole for good.”
Claps and whistles of celebration erupted from all eagles,
barring two.
An old eagle, with white whiskers, interrupted and
requested the owl to reconsider the decision. “Good wise bird, please think
again. We need the sparrows. They at least chirrup and spread melody in our
brusque world. They also help us make good nests and take care of the eaglets
in gentle ways. All they need from us are the few worms we supply them. They
can be warned and allowed to inhabit this place.”
The other eagle was him. HE nodded, even though he had
only grasped half of what the old one had said.
The owl uttered an implacable reply, “I am sorry
gentleman. The decision has been made. These petite heads that have dared to
rise today, need to be taught a lesson. As to the chirpings and hay-gathering,
we can arrange to get some machines and toys that humans have invented. The new
gadgets serve the purpose we want. But this punishment is irreversible. I order
all sizes, colours and genres of sparrows as well as their eggs to enter the
balloon with immediate effect. I will personally ensure they are blown far away
into the sky, never to return our grand lands.”
Cheers and boisterous flapping of wings ensued his final
words.
The group of sparrows meekly obeyed and queued up for the
big balloon.
The green one found the right moment, escaped everyone’s
eyes and came up to the owl who was corralling the sparrows in neat rows. SHE
whispered, “Thank you so much. We will be ever so grateful.” She hid her smile
in a veil of pain and hustled up to the balloon.
HE stood there, more surprised and shocked than when the
evening had started.
Suddenly his eyes became a little petrified as he saw the
other eagles around amok with glee. Something occurred to him and he could not
stop himself from rushing to the owl and asking, “Sir, can this by any small
sliver of chance mean that eagles will have nothing to prey upon from now on?
Does it mean they can start preying each other some day?”
The owl returned a silent stare, and the way it looked
deeply in his eyes made him intensely scared.
“Please let me join these
sparrows, even if they are going nowhere.” HE almost pleaded.
The owl gently pushed him away. “Sorry, eagles can not be
punished.” The balloon and the owl started floating upwards, leaving behind a
berserk pack of eagles dancing merrily.
