ISBF24: One Afternoon by Uma Majumdar

I have just lived my life watching people and enjoying their capers. I’ve read a few pages which have given me intense happiness and made me think and rethink. Looking forward to more such days – when I shall lay back watching the worthy do their stuff.

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Obsession

The Visitor (aka Dusk)

One Afternoon

by

Uma Majumdar

After lunch one winter afternoon, I sat on my terrace, enjoying the mellow sunshine. A romantic novel in hand, feet up on a stool and a light shawl over me – a blue clear sky above and the sunlight lying on the ground in the most satisfactory manner, there I was, the epitome of quiet bliss. Even a queen couldn’t have asked for more. Occasional crows and pigeons flew about or perched on the ledges, sparrows chirped shrilly.

Defying the thrills in the story, my eyelids became heavy, even the book started to feel heavy. A raucous call made me notice a crow sitting on a ledge and sternly looking at me out of one eye.

As I wondered what it was crowing about, it turned its head to look at me out of the other eye.

Really, I thought, it was almost like being scrutinised by the games teacher at the morning assembly in school.

Wonders didn’t cease, as the crow said in a low gurgling voice -“crrrk – so, madam is awake, is she?”

“Wha – wha – wha,” I sputtered.

“Stop stuttering and sit up straight. You should know that folding back the book will damage the spine” the crow spoke.

“Who – who- who” – that was me in acute perplexity.

“Are you learning a second language or are you trying to imitate that rascal owl? Remember languages were never your forte, what did you score in your school leaving exam?” was the next comment.

Imagine the cheek of one who spoke only one language!

“Whoosh, whoosh.”

I waved a feeble hand, looking around for something to throw.

“Enough of it, mind your manners”, the crow warned, “if you keep on being hostile, I shall be compelled to divulge that throughout the day, you frequently open the fridge and take out pieces of sandesh to pop in your mouth “.

So, this is the crow that sits on the cornice of my neighbour’s house and peeps into my dining room.

“Shush,shush “, I said.

I don’t need this, I thought, especially when my blood sugar has shot up and the family is being strict about my diet.

“Don’t you shush me and remember that I can also talk about the affair with the bottle of jam and spoon”.

I could feel my eyes goggling and the throat getting dry.

“Kwa, kwa, kwa”

The brute broke out in the crow version of a hoarse and vulgar laughter.

“Since we are talking, I would like you to know that the light you keep on in your room till late in the evenings, is very inconvenient for my family. It keeps us up, especially the small wee chicks. Keep the curtains drawn, and anyway that is what you should do when you change clothes. Uggh ! Revolting sight, I must say!”

Oh, I thought, so that is where he nests, the villain, as I recalled the mango tree behind my bedroom. It is huge and lush, everyday late in the afternoon birds of the locality gather there, quarrelling loudly to claim their perch for the night.

But, what is happening, why am I in a conversation (though one sided) with a crow !! And that also with one with a villainous temperament.

“Krawk, kra, krit krit” came another fit of crowing villainous laughter.

“Just a few crumbs early in the morning and may be a grain or two later, do you think that is enough to sustain a family with ever hungry small chicks? Whereas, you feed your mouth countless times in the day, don’t know what happens after dark”, the crow muttered.

“That four legged nuisance of your family, the one with a loud bark, will get his black dot of a nose nipped one of these days, let me warn you. Every time I take the biscuits offered by your
partner, the mutt jumps up and tries to catch me. For your information, I belong to the family of original inhabitants of this area, the bonedi bari, unlike a few I can name”.

He looked askance at me. I had a distinct impression that he also snorted, if crows are able to do that.

“Since we are having this conversation, I might also mention that the small child of yours is a huge nuisance. He is always spraying water at me and at my nest. He is due for a hard nip.”

The crow took a short walk along the ledge, a kind of hop and skip. He groomed under a wing rather fastidiously and looking around noticed a pair of billing and cooing doves at the far end of the terrace.

“Romancing all day long and no family to show for it! Too inept and scared of responsibility, I assume,” the crow fluffed up its feathers importantly.

The book slipped out of my hand and crashed on the floor, hitting the pup where it slept by my feet. His yelp woke me up and the crow which had been perching on the ledge, flapped his wings and flew off, shedding a black feather.

I sat in a kind of a stupor for a while.

It was almost tea time, and in winter, a cup of the First Flush is always welcome. Putting on my slippers, I was about to go down, when I remembered the book, lying on the floor. Furtively looking around for a cheekily judgemental crow, I picked up the book, smoothened the leaves and closed it properly. While the tea was brewing, I casually opened the fridge, to check the status of a lone piece of fruit cake, which had been lying abandoned for a few days, crying for the attention from my calorie conscious family. Something must be done about it or to it, wasting food is a crime.

I was about to put out my hand, when I looked out at by neighbour’s house and quickly withdrew my hand.

Really! Was I becoming paranoid?

Or is it my conscience?

Is my conscience a black crow?

Or is it my Guardian Angel?

I considered these questions as I munched.

(c) Uma Majumdar All Rights Reserved