A Short Story Of Hope

The scarcity of rains have doubled up their prices in the city of Jodhpur. "Monsoon non-friendly and feathers on my wings, are getting more and more thirsty, day by day. Man! that wire gave me hell of an electric shock, that such verbiage cannot even render!

Marwaris call me Bootra Thakur,( the happy pigeon), and now no one is coming out since it's the first day of this lockdown. I am stuck with this shock eaten, half broken thirsty wing and a mouth".

"Even after cooing for a thousand times a day, for obvious reasons, I am bunking around, fellas! can't you just come out in the window? and see me?". 

Third day and Bootra Thakur was still attempting to live. "My wound is encumbering slowly and no negotiations from the clouds still. I should have been born in the nests of cherrapunji, we do have an origin all over India,don't we?, what if I tell my other friends to fly over on the top, and burst a cloud with their beak so that it rains and I should feel fine but I see no one around".

He was lying beside that roadside dustbin more than half alive in need of a doctor who could treat his wound .

" I want a doctor, I want to doctor . Help! help! help!

Fine! (in agitation), it's ok ! don't come, I will die. Die here, waiting, you morons! are you listening?!"

Bootra knew, that all this is in vain. It's a pandemic and not the pain that he is suffering, he still wished and wished cadging for life on debt from God.

Bootra Thakur's hope was still alive and the day appeared. Rains without mask. It showered for half an hour maximum, a sigh of relief, a gratitude, a requite of prayer by a bird. He thanked and thanked and with his quench fulfilled, he gathered all the force he could just fly up till that window of Rani Mahal from where he could call the Darbaan who was his favourite to help him and feed him first then call a doctor, or if he can handle bootra himself but bootra was still hopeless this time because apparently the Maharaj of Rani Mahal have given all the servants a temporary holiday to go to their native lands until the situation goes fine.

 

He still cooed over to ask for help. A lady, midwife who was now in charge of the mahal, heard him and held Bootra in her hands, gently. 

He was scared but trusting her instincts he let her handle him.

"You silly lady! I am hurt from my left wing and you're pressing it, stop ! For god's sake!(in curiosity), get your hands off of me! somebody? please tell her, hello? anybody there?"

Soon that lady realised the uneasiness of the pigeon.

She applied some turmeric paste on the wound and for days she continued to apply that paste mixed with life healing herbs, over his wings.

Bootra was soon healthy enough to fly, but he chose to remain with that lady, all his life, knowing that she is alone and in VIRUS (COVID) and is dying, he was not a doctor but he saw her giving up on life, breathless, in fever as if she has given her life to Bootra Thakur..

 A small covid story