When a majestic bird touched down
Our sprawling house in Poonamallee, Chennai was not a hub for migratory birds that flew from Siberia or other avian ports of origin on way to their favoured sanctuaries. More than once, I enjoyed the avian treat of a flock of cranes, flying in ‘V’ formation, the young and the powerful in the vanguard and the little ones and old forming the rear, taking advantage of the updraft from the apex that makes wing flapping less strenuous.
Nevertheless, our courtyard open to the skies that had protective crisscrossed steel grilles, to prevent ingress of thieves, served as a venue for the impromptu congregation of crows under the leadership of a big black raven. Sparrows, parrots and doves made periodic appearances. Cuckoos would join occasionally during rain soaked evenings. One afternoon, when I crossed the court yard, I was startled to see a big bird perched on the steel bar. My heart skipped a beat arrhythmically.
My god! What a visitor! Was it an eagle? Kite? Hawk? Bustard? Garuda? Unknown to it, I began watching it without making any noise. It appeared to be a bald eagle that glided in the sky gracefully spreading its wings wide. But this one chose to land on our court yard, its talons clutching the steel bars. The bird appeared to be unconcerned about the ramifications of its unexpected visit. I am not a binocular toting ornithologist of the calibre of Salim Ali.
Yet I watched. Soon, my elder sister joined me, a tome in hand. Must be a Jean Paul Sartre, Fyodor Dostoevsky or Salinger. Her jewellery (not many) may be found strewn carelessly in her room. But not her books. They would remain locked like the bullion in Fort Knox. Quite a scholarly lady, bespectacled, as you would have assessed from the authors she fancied. Not like her brother, yours faithfully, who feels comfortable with the likes of P G Wodehouse, Richard Armour and such. “What business such a huge bird has at our courtyard?” she asked.
“Its domain is high up in the skies.” “You are right, Rukku. But these high fliers have to touch base, the terra firma once in a while.” She looked at me strangely, as if I was incapable of such analytical thoughts. “May be true,” she said. “You were planning to go for a movie. Didn’t you?” I perked up. “Yes. A Norman Wisdom treat, A stitch in time. May be slapstick, but a riot of laughter. I have seen it twice. Going for the third. You want to join me? Best bet to unwind.” She nodded, watching the huge bird taking off majestically like an airliner.
J S Raghavan
Email: writerjsr@gmail.com