Down The Memory Lane

My childhood years were spent in this old dilapidated house. In the summer afternoons my mother would force me to lie down beside her and take a nap. She would put her fingers over my eyes and I usually pretended to fall asleep. But stayed awake and peeped at the ceiling through her finger gaps.

The ceiling was a canvas of moving lights and shadows. I could see the shadow of every vehicle that passed through the road below. As she fell asleep, I tiptoed my way to the attic. The attic was a store room of junks for the entire family but it was my treasure house where I kept all my dolls and toy pots and pans. I climbed up the stairs as silent as a kitten and carefully opened the old rotten wooden door of the terrace. Pickles were soaking the lovely summer sun in an array of glass jars of different shapes and sizes. I quickly gulped a handful of the tangy goodness and went to look at the pumpkin seeds obtained from my grand ma’s kitchen which I had planted a few days ago and had been watering diligently.      

But that day was different as I felt as if someone was watching me. When I bent to adore my seedlings something sharp hit my head as if I was attacked by a branch of a tree. I saw a black crow staring at me ready to attack. It was the beginning of the crow menace in our house.

The plump chubby maid soon came down grumbling that she would not go to the terrace for hanging the wet clothes. For the next few weeks the terrace was terrorized by a pair of crows who did not allow anyone to enter. I was disheartened by this sudden turn of events as the terrace was my favourite playground.

 My mother tried biscuits, food, brooms, sticks all in vain. Nothing could pacify the birds.

My grand ma was sure that this was the wrath of ancestors so the saggy wrinkled old temple priest was summoned. He gave a long list of puja ingredients to please all departed souls and soon our home reverberated with mantras and smell of camphor. But the vicious crows continued their tyranny. Then our aunt advised making a scarecrow she said it always works.

I enjoyed putting up a stick and drawing fierce eyes and teeth with a white chalk on an earthen pot. The whole time the crows watched us from the corner of their eyes. We dressed up the scare crow with my old school shirt and triumphantly put it up in our terrace. But soon they came and sat on the scare crow’s head as if challenging us. They were not at all intimidated by the thing and treated it as a perching spot.

Our neighbour advised my mother to keep fast on Saturdays to please Saturn god. She was confident that the crow menace will end by this method. So, we kept fast on Saturdays while the crows enjoyed fish bones on our terrace.

Days passed and almost all of our family members who ventured to the terrace were attacked by the crows. My uncle advised to put mirrors in the terrace so that the reflecting light will scare the crows.

So, my brave mother took the challenge and climbed up to install the mirrors with a stick to fight the enemies. The place looked empty and the enemies were no where to be seen. We were delighted with our achievements. But it was like the stillness before a storm. As we were celebrating our success the crows came and hit my mother’s head with their sharp beak. We left the battle field like defeated soldiers who had lost their land.

Days passed and seasons changed. I missed my solitary corner by the Tulsi plant who was blooming with fragrant flowers and sprinkling her lovely seeds all around. It was the end of spring. I longed to play and imagine the world of fairy tale in my beloved terrace.

One day we saw little baby crows with the crow couple. They had just learnt to fly.

The crow family had come down near our door as if to say thank you. That day they were not violent but extremely polite and flew away with their babies from our house. We waited for them to return but they didn’t. Soon the terrace was back in our custody. My grandma happily dried her chillies while I played with my dolls. The pumpkin plant had grown to be a long creeper but it didn’t bear a single pumpkin.

After so many years when I am a grown up and became a mother, I realized the reason why the crows were violent. Maybe they had laid eggs before and lost them in a storm or to the cats before the eggs had hatched. And this had made the crow couple extra protective and aggressive. We will never know. But I had met the most intelligent and protective birds in my childhood who gave us a tough time.