The Wild Pigeon

                            

It was when my mom sat out on the stone bench along with the neighboring aunt to discuss the contemporary gossips circulating around that I realized it was the best time for me to peek into the kitchen. Somehow, I succeeded in grabbing a handful of peanuts and filling it in my pockets but my mom! She has a unique art of parallel processing. No matter how much busy she is but always has an eye over me.

“yey what’s going on in the kitchen” screamed mom

“Nothing mom, just went casually to check for some eatery” I answered

As soon as I tried to move out mom started gazing me with great suspicion, like a metal scanner does she started scanning me from top to bottom and there you are. Those stuffed pockets were clearly visible to her ultra-laser scanner eyes which were hardly visible to any other ordinary eyes.

      “What did you stuff into those pockets, Come here” summoned Mom

I understood the gravity of the situation and decided to surrender and beg for pardon.

      “Nothing mom, just a few peanuts to eat” I replied

      “You gone mad? How can you eat those raw peanuts” screamed mom?

Ah better to disclose the truth and maybe she would allow me to take a few peanuts, I thought to myself and replied

      “Mom actually……”

      “Actually what?? Tell me what” questioned mom

      “Actually, it’s not for me to eat, I want them to feed the Pigeons,” I said nervously

As soon as she heard my humble submission, I could sense danger looming over me like black nimbus.

“Do you think your dad is a billionaire? we are struggling hard to feed you and make you study and you are dreaming of feeding the pets?” Roared mom like a lioness

What can a poor helpless guy do in situations like this? Just feel ashamed and shed tears because of the fact that neither can he hurt his family and nor could he afford to full fill his hobby. I always dreamt of Spending time with pets at home, Rabbits, country chickens, Fishes, Puppies, Pigeons what not? I was very much fascinated about having them at home but Goddamn! Mom would never allow me to have one. She argues that they make our home messy and she also proclaimed that I would lose interest in studies if we have a pet as if I was desperate to become a genius by studying day in and day out. Slowly I came to realize the fact that my Mom avoided having pets not because she hates them but that we can’t afford to have them because of our weak financial situation.

Absolutely disappointed I went to meet hamza hoping he would allow me to be on his terrace with pigeons surrounded all over.

“Hamza, Hamzaaa, hey dude hamza” I screamed aloud

After a slow lag, he appeared peeking his head from the terrace.

“Why the hell are you screaming? My dad is asleep he will bang me if he awakes” frowned hamza

“sorry, can I come on to your terrace?” I requested him humbly

“Peanuts?” asked hamza

“Actually….” I was trying to convince him but he cut short

“Yes or No?” questioned hamza

“No” I replied with so much heavy heart

As soon as he heard this, he disappeared

“Hamza, my dear friend Hamzaa” I screamed again

This time he didn’t appear but sent two of the neighbouring kids to deal with me. They peeked and said giggling,

“Hamza is warning you if his dad wakes up because of your screams then you will be banged, get peanuts and only then he will allow you to see his pigeons”

I just sat on the steps of his duplex hoping he would pity me and allow me to get in, but he was so obstinate and didn’t care of my presence.

“hey, why are sitting here? Get inside” said Ruby, Younger sister of Hamza

Unlike Hamza who was stout with his obese tummy oozing out from his T-shirts ruby was a slim good-looking girl, not just of appearance but of attitude and behaviour as well the two siblings were ways apart. At one end Hamza was arrogant, wicked and insensitive but ruby was down to earth, tender-hearted and selfless.

“Hamza didn’t allow me………..” I replied

You come along with me, I will let you see the pigeons assured Ruby and I followed her to their terrace. As soon as Hamza saw me he grew red

“why the hell did you come over here?” screamed hamza

“I let him in, aren’t you ashamed to treat your friend this way?” replied ruby on my behalf

“You just shut up Ruby, that’s none of your business. Hamza get out of here and come only if you could bring something to feed my pets” ordered hamza

I left the place while the brother-sister duo was arguing.

I felt humiliated in fact desolated and went to the Mastanvali baba dargah in the lane next to my home where kids from the neighbourhood gather to play and few elders assemble to pass their time gossiping on the podium built around the neem tree beside the dargah, but for some reason the premises looked deserted and I sat on the podium alone leaning to the neem trunk with great despair gazing at the shrine of Mastanvali baba. Tears filled my eyes hoping the saint resting in the tomb would recommend some respite to god on my behalf.

Ruby came over and sat beside me when I started wiping off my tears.

“I convey apologies on my brother’s behalf, he was very rude to you” ruby said

And I didn’t respond.

“Stretch your palm” she ordered

“Why?”

“Stretch first I have a surprise for you” said smiled

She poured a handful of peanuts into my palm that she brought along with her.

“Now Hamza would allow you to play with the pets” she said smiling

“Thanks for your concern but Sorry…I can’t accept it” I replied

“But why?” she questioned

“Please leave me alone ruby” I pleaded her and she left the place annoyed.

How could I explain to her that I can not compromise on my self-respect just to fulfil my hobby?

      I started visiting the mosque regularly not just to offer prayers but to spend time gazing at the pigeons dwelling on the minarets and shelves of the mosque. They were just ordinary pigeons all grey and black in colour rarely there were any white-feathered pigeons found in the mosque. Whereas Hamza’s father brought him pigeons of different breeds and different colours. The Snow feathered dove, the fan-tailed pigeon, the brown-colored roller rock pigeon, and many such but still, I could find solace in the grunts of those ordinary pigeons in the mosque. It was on a Friday afternoon that my prayers were heard, a pigeon fell on the floor of the mosque from its minaret with a broken wing heavily wounded and bleeding. I took it to my home running along the narrow lanes as if I found a treasure that needed to be hidden from evil eyes.

      “Mom, Mom……come here” I screamed gasping

      “What happened? Why are you gasping” replied my mom worriedly?

      “Pigeon, …… it fell from the minaret of the mosque, it is bleeding mom”

Thought I was skeptical that mom would help me but after all the heart of a woman is always so tender that it heals every bleeding heart and the bleeding pigeon was no exception to it.

      “O my God, mercy mercy,” said my mom and took the pigeon into her hand dressed it up with warm turmeric paste and banded it.

 I was happy that my prayers were heard but were worried that pigeon would perish like my fragile desires. In a week or so that pigeon got well and we named it as Tippu, all of my family cared for it so much but my mom suggested me to take it back to the mosque as we would be doing injustice to it by separating it from the band. Though it pained me much but I found my mom’s suggestion wise accordingly I took it to the mosque and left it there. To my surprise each time I left it at the mosque, it came back home in no time sometimes even before I arrived. I allowed all my friends to see Tippu, Even Rubi visited us sometimes to play with Tippu for which hamza and his family always restricted because we were not so rich and they believed we lived in unhygienic conditions. Unlike hamza who demanded visitors to bring something to feed his pigeons like a levy, mine was a voluntary system and no visitor was forced to feed my pet they can if they wish to.

Soon hamza grew insecure and he started degrading Tippu, along with his close aides called Tippu a wild pigeon which was ugly. There was some truth in what hamza blamed that it was wild and to claim ugly was his perception. I believe Tippu could be correlated to me as it has rough feathers, simple like ordinary pigeons yet was unique and more over was under nourished. On the other end pigeons of hamza were like him good looking, smooth feathered, rare breed but didn’t look special and was obese. Hamza was very furious when one of his female pigeons started resting on my terrace often along with tipu, he even tried to attack Tippu when it flew on his terrace to rest along with the female bird of hamza.

One day I took Tippu along with me to the Mastanvalli baba dargah and found hamza too cpme deliberately with his rare breed and started boasting about his pigeons. Tippu was time and again being shamed by Hamza and his pals calling him Wild and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“So, what if my Tippu is wild, he is fit and smarter than any of your fatty birds” I declared

“What? Fit and Smart….” Laughed hamza

One of his friends suggested to arrange a pigeon race to know whose pigeon is fit and smart, I took a gasp and accepted the challenge as it was the only way to gain the self-respect of not just Tipu but mine as well. Soon the bird race became the talk of the locality among kids of our neighborhood, the race was scheduled in a week the upcoming Sunday. Hamza wanted the looser bird to be slaughtered as he strongly believed his pigeons would win the race and he could make me pet less. I rejected strongly this idea of slaughtering not because I feared losing but I loved pigeons so much that I could not even imagine of hurting them not just Tippu but any of the bird. I rather suggested that who ever wins would take over the possession of the bird which loses the race and assure of not hurting it in future as well.

      I started training Tipppu every day to make sure he wins the race and fed him nicely even few of my friends including ruby fed him as well voluntarily. At the other end hamza could not even finalize which bird he is going to choose for the race till Saturday evening and upon a suggestion from few of his friends he chose the same female pigeon which always paired with Tippu, they concluded logically that this would distract Tippu and will drive him to lose the race. The venue for the next day’s race was decided and it was from the dastagiri jenda which was five kilometers away from our neighborhood (flag mast of saint Dastagiri).

      The next day morning about twenty kids assembled on their bicycles, Hamza on his motorized modern bicycle with Ruby in the back seat holding the pigeon both the pigeon and ruby looked beautiful. I was told ruby accompanied hamza after she threatened to spill the beans about the race to their parents and hamza was compelled to bring ruby along with. I took my dad’s atlas bicycle which was hard even for a five feet tall adult to pedal, my friend seated behind holding Tippu and I started peddling with out even able to climb over the seat. Some how we arrived at the Dastagiri Jenda, hamza arrived 10 minutes before me and sledged that even this bird race gonna be same.

      I held Tippu in my palms kissed it on its head blew air over it by reciting few verses of the Quran wishing him good luck and flew it when the referee dropped the signal and in no time both the birds fluttered high swiftly and disappeared in no time. We too started peddling back home and this time I peddled as if there was no tomorrow reaching in time along with Hamza. It was almost 15 minutes past that we began the race and we could not see any traces of neither Tippu nor that of Hamza. Over 4 hours since we flew the birds but still no trace of either of them and suddenly the rules of the game were changed by hamza unanimously, he declared that since the birds were not traceable the competition stands canceled and he led a search for his pigeon on his bicycle.

      It never happened with Tippu usually he would fly swiftly and arrive back home within 10-15 minutes all during his training sessions but now it has been over 6 hours still could not find him. Even hamza’s rescue operation went in vain neither was his pigeon visible any where and he declared that both of them could have become prey to some falcon or bird hunter. I really started worrying about Tippu, it is been 2 days now that he disappeared and I regret many a times for accepting the challenge and risking Tippu’s life. The next day early morning I went on to the terrace as I could hear the pigeons cooing and my conscience kept on saying it was Tippu.

To my astonishment it was Tippu with the Female pigeon of Hamza mating each other, as soon as Tippu saw me coming he flew and sat over my shoulder. I embraced him showered kisses on his head and fed both the pigeons but suddenly I could recall Hamza declaring the race to stand canceled and feared he would separate these love birds and I was adamant to see them separate. I decided that it is better if Tippu lives wildly along with his love bird rather than domesticating him by separating. I caught hold of both the birds summoned Ruby to accompany me and we both peddled to the outskirts and flew both the birds hoping and praying they would remain away from hamza’s reach, after all this society separates loves for Caste, creed and stature.