feeding my ancestors...

i thought i had the weight loss plan down quite pat.

morning walk, breakfast, walk to errands, walk towards other ladies who lunch, walk back home and so on, when i stopped in me tracks!

the morning air was thick with terrible cries. the sounds of a thousand wings flapping had turned one patch on the carter road promenade a flurry of black. the harbingers of death, the stars of scary movies like the omen, were swirling in a frenzy.

crows! hundreds of crows were crowding the pathway, flying, sitting on a path meant for joggers and walkers. it was such a scary sight people were using the road in order to avoid being pecked or swooped at...

the refrain from a bhajan 'kaga chun chun khaiyo maans, do naina mat khaiyo, unme piya milan ki aas' popped into my head and i shivered. ugh! what were the carrion crows swooping down to eat?

that is when i spotted a bent old gent in whites in the middle of the flurry. oh no! the birds were attacking the old man! i looked around for help wildly. would no one help the poor man? just then a hawaldar materialised out of no where. aah, a savior! i thought.

"bhaiyya!" i must've have burst his ear drum i thought! "bhaiyya! us aadmi ko kau-ve attackkar rahe hain! halp karo please!"

the man responded more to my scream than logic. he charged through the wings waving his stick, as if he were zorro. a couple more people walking charged at the birds waving their arms. i too joined the save the bent gent drive, begand flapping my arms to shoo the nasty birds away.

soon the angry birds were flying away. the hawaldar was the first to reach the bent gent.

"saab! aap theek toh hain saab?"
"are you all right? have the birds pecked you anywhere?" chorussed the other morning joggers
i am terrified of crows, so was standing stunned by the realisation that i had actually walked through a sea of them!

i noticed that the bent gent was not saying anything. poor man!

someone said, "poor thing, i am sure he is scared!"

another concered person said, "let him sit down! sit down, sir"

my eyes narrowed as i saw his expression. he did not at all look happy for having been rescued from the birds. in fact he was having a tough time controlling his temper. he started waving his arms madly at all of us.

"you meddlesome mad people! what have you done! i was feeding my ancestors! now they will be hungry!" then he let loose a few of the choicest epithets in hindi.

his rescuers were staring at him in varying degrees of surprise. why was he cursing us?

"you idiots! these crows are our ancestors. feeding them is a sure path to heaven! you have ruined it! you fools!"

it sunk in. i had walked through what seemed like a mile of claws and beaks for this! they were his ancestors! what crap! outrage took over.

"they were all your ancestors?"

the bent gent gave me a look that could wither my skin in an instant. but i am made of sterner stuff. and one of the other rescuers giggled. i needed no more encouragement.

"how do you know they were all your ancestors? and what were you feeding them? bread? what are you going to bring them for their lunch?"

"foolish woman! they are everyone's ancestors! you will go straight to hell for saying these things! blasphemy!"

"my ancestors too?"

"yes, yes! yours, mine, everyone's ancestors!"

i couldn't imagine my little loving granny as a crow. i had always imagined her with a harp, sitting on a cloud, singing away. no way had she turned into a ugly cawing bird of nightmares! and she never ate bread! she liked hot phulkas with ghee on them! this man was feedig her hard paav! a gabbar line popped into my head.

"bahut naainsaafi hai!"

i was now outraged too! i stood there, arms akimbo, ready to fight with this horrid man.

not only had he disrupted everyone's peaceful morning walk but now was claiming my little sweet grandma had turned into a crow and she was eating brun paav out of his hands?! no way!

"oi! my ancestors don't like bread! and they never ate handouts! that too from strangers!"

the junta gathered there also agreed. their ancestors did not eat bread either.

"and why are you feeding everyone's ancestors? feed your own! we will take care of ours!"

the bent gent was sputtering at my logic.

"did you get a licence to organise this public feast? moreover, how dare you invite my sweet grandma and then feed her hard bread? she ate chapatis laced with ghee! so these must be your ancestors. and if they are, why are you feeding them here? feed them at your home! i am warning you now, sir, if you try and feed my ancestors with yours and any of my ancestors feel ill after eating the hard bread, i shall send a couple of my tough ancestors to beat up your ancestors..."

the promenade was filled with laughter.

we never saw him again.

that was a few weeks ago. this morning we saw a woman push away a street kid, and feed stray dogs...