The Crow

The incident that happens in this story is real. But the characters are fictional...

One of my cousins, who was working as an English teacher in a school, some twenty years ago, narrated this incident to me. This had happened in her school. And finding my grey cells getting tickled, I had to pen this story.

Manish sat looking at his mother changing his baby sister’s nappy. A sister of four months. Her name was Asha. She was always smiling. Cried only when she was hungry. In the normal course, Manish would run to her after returning from school, of course, after washing his hands, feet and face. He knew that babies can catch infection very easily. His papa had told him.

But today, he just sat there looking at Asha. Papa was away on tour. He had been away for the past fifteen days. He would return only after another week or so. That worried him a lot.

Who says, children have no worries? 

His Science Teacher had issued an ultimatum that morning. He had to submit an entry for the Science Exhibition which was starting next week. He had told this a week back and all the boys had submitted their entries, except him. 

Ever since his baby sister arrived, his Mama had no time for him. He had actually been pestering her for the past four days. Today the Teacher had pulled him up in front of all the students and had sent him out of the class in anger. Manish had to stand in that verandah for almost forty-five minutes. 

“What happened to you, Manish ? Go drink your milk. It is there on the table. And there are pakodis too…paneer pakodis that you love.”

“I don’t want anything.” He started crying.

The baby had gone to sleep.

She came and hugged him. “Now what? ”

“Teacher punished me. If I don’t take an exhibit tomorrow, she said she would send me back home. You are not helping me. Chintu’s Mama made a cardboard butterfly. Pranesh’s mama has grown some small methi plants in a pot.”

He cried. “Today I was sent out. I was standing out for almost one hour.”

“Okay. Don’t cry. I shall make a bird for you. Stop crying and drink your milk. And be silent. If Asha beti gets up, I will not be able to do anything.”

The next one hour saw Manish’s mother working with a black and grey cloth. He sat near her, biting into the pakodi. Little by little, a crow emerged.

“There’s no time to get wires and make legs Manish. Get me that broken hen of yours. I shall use those legs.”

Manish was excited.

The plastic legs were removed deftly like a smooth surgery and sewed on to the crow. It looked a bit silly. A crow with red feet. But Manish’s mother used a little fabric paint and everything was hunky dory!

Manish was thrilled. A nice crow with two tiny buttons for the eyes. He had two extra chappathis that night and kept feeding his mother with all the exhibits and how his crow was much better than the butterfly! He slept with the crow by his pillow.

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The teacher asked Manish, “Well. Have you brought anything today?”

This science teacher did not like Manish. Most of the other boys were from economically better households. They would bring gifts for her once in a while. She would always make fun of Manish’s father’s Salesman job. His dress. The well combed oily hair. But today Manish did not care for all her taunts.

He took out the crow from the bag and placed it on her table.

“What is this,” she asked, holding it by the head.

Can’t she make out? He thought.

“Crow,” he said.

The kids were looking at the crow with amazement. Manish’s Mama is very clever, they were whispering among themselves till the teacher’s voice rang out loud, rude and clear.

“Crow? Didn't you have anything better to make? A crow! Phoo! A dirty scavenging crow. It looks just like you!” she said and flung it with great force and it landed in the square yard outside the class. 

“And take your bag and get out. Don’t come in till my class is over.”

There was pin-drop silence in the class as Manish trudged along with the heavy bag on his back.

The class was stunned. They thought that the crow looked really nice.

“Hrumph! A crow! Of all the things. Why, there are parrots and sparrows and ducks –and he brings a crow. Dumb! Nitwit! Clown!”

Manish went out and sat outside near the classroom wall.

He saw the School Correspondent come walking in the verandah and going to each class. The three sides of the court-yard had classrooms. The Correspondent was away for a month and had come back today. Manish’s heart lit up. The Correspondent liked him. Manish’s grandfather had taught the Correspondent years back and he had a soft corner for Manish. Every time he happened to run into Manish, which was occasional, he would inquire about his grandfather, father and mother. Perhaps, he can tell the Correspondent what happened. He was seated there with his eyes half closed, dried tears staining his cheeks, when all of a sudden there was a flutter of activity in the verandah.

The courtyard was reverberating with the cries of crows…scores of them. Some seated. Some, flitting about. Some flying up and landing with aplomb. All very busy. Cawing their throats out.

Everybody seemed to spill out of the classrooms onto the verandah. The Correspondent was now standing very close to Manish, who too had stood up.

The crows were all circling around a single crow, which was lying on it’s back in the middle of the courtyard, where it had landed when the Science teacher had flung it.

 

The peon told the Correspondent,

“Saab, kawwa mar gaya hai. ( A crow has died).”

 “Acha! Nikal do use (Remove it from there),” the Correspondent said.

 Manish rushed towards them shouting,

 “No please. It’s mine. My Mama made it for the Exhibition,” he was sobbing.

The Correspondent looked at him. In bits and pieces, Manish related the story of the crow.

 

“What better authentication is needed for the crow!” the Correspondent said, wiping Manish’s tears.

The rest is history. The crow occupied the prime place in the Exhibition. It won a prize too.

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