It’s that time of year when the violence of the tradition I was born into hits me. In and around Hyderabad at this time of the year — perhaps even as I am writing — hundreds if not thousands of Indian Rollers (paala pitta as they are called in Telugu) struggle with fate as they do every Navaratri, which culminates in Vijaya Dasami, the day they must dread most.
This is the time of year when we celebrate life – the Navaratri kolu (a tradition that keeps me close to my mother who is physically no more). But the violence too is part of the tradition — I first witnessed it in 2006. Since then every succeeding year my feet lead me to the street just outside the temple near my home. For on that day, from 6 pm until almost 11 pm, you can see men sitting with their hands covered by a towel or a handkerchief, crying out, “paala pitta, paala pitta, chudandi, devudu aasisu pondandi! (“paala pitta, come see, get blessed by god”).
The first time I heard this, out of sheer curiosity, I went closer and got my first glimpse of this frightened bird, feet tied to strings held by this man who was charging Rs 5 for a ‘peek’, no more than a minute. Why, I asked? He said, “Make a wish; on Dussehra paala pitta will fly to mount Kailasa and convey your wish to Lord Siva, who will grant whatever you ask.” The paala pitta was the divine messenger, he said. That is the myth behind this violence.
My first instinct was to run back home. But I argued with the man to let it go. None of my ‘lectures’ about the bird in pain would move him. He was making money, Rs 5 per minute, from hundreds of devotees who came to the temple. He asked me to meet him after an hour, and promised to let the bird free for Rs 500. After bargaining, he agreed to Rs 350 for one bird. But it was 10 pm by then. He said I should set the bird free the next morning. Sure enough, I went back, paid for the bird with a heavy heart, seeking forgiveness from all the other birds suffering similar fate whose freedoms I could not afford and brought it home.
The bird was placed in a cane basket, given some water, which the terrorised soul wouldn’t touch, and was left there. I opened my bird book (Salim Ali) and realised this bird, its feathers the shades of brown blending with peacock blue, was the Indian Roller; and also learnt later that this was Andhra Pradesh’s state bird!
I thought of calling a friend working with a wildlife trust to
release the bird in its proper habitat. But Indian Roller 1, as I called it — for subsequently, every year since, there have been others — hopped onto the balcony, then a neighbourhood neem tree, acacia tree, and then flew away. Did I make a wish? As I watched it fly off, before it became invisible to my eye I wished it wouldn’t ever be trapped again. But it probably does.
Probably it never reaches Mount Kailasa at all.
Each year, I note the increase in the number of men with paala
pittas in pain. Dussehra is torment for them. If only the revellers noticed the bird, its obvious pain, its eyes crying for release and mercy. Can they actually make a wish looking at its terrified eyes? Yes they can. The thousands who throng the temples that day make a beeline for the bird and are given a minute’s glimpse to make their wish while they see the bird. The bird-catcher makes about Rs 1,500 or more for that evening.
Edgar Thurston in his “Castes and Tribes of Southern India” in the 19th century, notes that vedakkarars (hunters) took captive birds to the Jain villages knowing the Jain abhorrence for violence of any kind, and released them in
return for some rice or money.
The next year I brought home two of them, for Rs 700. After
surveying my kitchen, the living room, sitting on the utensils and flying about, for all of two hours, they flew from my balcony into the limitless horizon.
My friend asked me why I don’t report the men to the police or the forest department. But imprisoning or fining these men is not the answer. The culprit is the tradition and equally responsible are all those who believe in it. Unless people feel the pain when they see a captive bird, there may be no
permanent solution. But the forest department has a role in preventing it, through campaigns and keeping a watch outside temples.
Just a few days ago, sitting on the acacia tree by my balcony, was a baby Indian Roller, looking at me as at a familiar face. Perhaps this one was the offspring of the couple I released last year. No harm believing, it’s a nice thought. Tells you there is hope even though the
violence continues.
— The writer is a freelance
journalist based in Hyderabad.
umamaheshwari_1999@yahoo.com