I was too young at the time; about eight years old. A political leader was assassinated and the neighbourhood rose up like a swarm of bees whose honey comb had just been poked at. From the roof of our house, we jumped over the newly cemented roof of the temple. Women huddled up into islands by the colony’s temple; like beads of a necklace, groups of housewives packed themselves together. Every now and then, a woman would leave the group and join the adjoining one. With our backs rested against the temple’s crown, we tried to make sense of what little information we had about the incident.
Around us were the slanted roof tops with red brick tiles; a little further away were the thatched roofs with mud walls. In the horizon, sun was setting down; the yellow gaze withdrew into the cavity that the fireball dug into at night. Behind us, night was carpeting the tree tops, long turrets and factory chimneys; in the distance behind our cricket ground, smoke billowed and wore dark curly hair that thinned as it grew lighter up in the air. The area where our kirana store met the main road was being modernised; rubble of felled walls lay in two great heaps. To our right, a lane which was squeezed tight between two tall walls beckoned us. The lane was dark throughout the day; drain holes poured out volubly from either side into the deep drain canal. Pigs snorkelled in that lane, stray dogs fornicated; here in the harmonious lane, blunt nosed grey piglets and spindle bodied white puppies grew together.
That night, a euphoric neighbourhood went to sleep a bit later than the usual. I slipped out of the house at about one in the morning; tiptoed, crouched, hid, squatted and suppressed my breathing lest I awoke my parents. Outside, a crescent moon greeted me elaborately; he had the whole sky for himself. Once in a while, a smoky cloud spread its sinuous back against the moon, obfuscating it; but the cunning old moon, with a crooked nose, priced open the porous clouds to sneak as they lazily swam by.
Cold breeze snaked through the gap between buttonholes and disturbed the warm air that snugly fitted into my armpits. So utterly calm at night; somewhere in the distance, a dog howled impatiently; from the dark, two violet mounds shone in the pole light and dragged along a cat’s body that purred with its whiskered nose. I took the stairs to reach the temple’s roof; in the hideous lane, my torch’s beam located a puppy that was licking its paws; another was keenly eyeing a piglet, its nose rested on the forepaws. I lowered the ladder that workers used to gain access to the ground; with every step into the lane, a feeling of losing myself into oblivion overpowered my naïve curiosity.
I had reached the heart of the lane; before me were two female dogs and tens of puppies slept snuggled into their mothers’ bosoms. Drop by drop, murky water escaped the drain pipes around me; pools of algae laden crucibles were stung by ripples with every droplet. On the far end of the lane behind me, someone in the house to the right was using the toilet; a sudden gush of water washed a dense mass of hair ashore. It dragged a defenceless shampoo packet with it, and the duo fell into the drain canal. My torch beam had grown pale by now. In the dim light, I noticed pink feet.
Next morning, I woke up at dawn. A sudden impulse seized me and a long guttural cry escaped my lips. My eyes were locked shut, whole body broke into a yawn and before I knew, out popped two wings behind me and flitted vigorously. My breast heaved, I rose up on two spindle-like pink feet to the toe tips; gradually the yawn subsided, breast collapsed, and the web of my feet attached themselves solidly to the ground. Wings withdrew, locked themselves over my shoulder blades; a sickening putrid smell of cat’s urine stamped my miniscule cheek. I lowered my beak, pecked at a tangled mess of hair and tablet strips caught in my feet; both the female dogs were awake, presently suckling puppies. People were flushing their toilets clean on either side; pigs were tutoring the piglets in the drain canal to shower under the gushing water that gurgled at the bends.
How could I explain this transformation to my parents? Sun was peeping with its red arched head in the horizon; it was too early for my parents to wake up. Only chicken woke up so early. If I could slip through my bedroom window! Slip I did, nervously cocked my head through the narrow separation between the adjoining grills on the window sash. I fidgeted at the last minute, still unsure of what abilities the transformation bestowed on me. Inside the room, as I stepped over a cushion that was placed on the roof of a briefcase by the window, an abrupt fear stirred in me and impulsively, I rapped my wings. I gained a modest flight and landed on my bed; the bed sheet was still crumpled and yet to be folded.
The door opened and my sister entered. She was about four, chubby cheeked and stout legged; she approached me, brushing the sleep off with the back of her hands. And I greeted her; Ah! What a squeal escaped my sharp yellow beak.
Outside the bedroom, in the hallway, a tumbler slipped my mother’s hands. “It’s getting late….hot water for shower” mother crooned prettily; round and round the tumbler rolled its gallant mouth on the floor. To father, she commanded “wake up. Come one. Will you please get the kids ready” sound of newspaper whisked out of father’s hands followed by the picking of tumbler from the floor. Then mother entered the room; I was merrily pecking at my sister’s palm spread open before me. Hurriedly, mother came running towards me, and shushed. But I didn’t budge; I tried to explain. My words took the form of cuck cuck cack cak cuck.
“Where’s your brother?” mother demanded the little sister who nodded her head to make a whirling motion of her pigtails.
Meanwhile, I cuckcucked and cackcacked on the bed with my pink feet. Mother grew impatient with my insensible rattling; it bothered her that the bed sheet which was washed clean only the day before was now ornamented with smelly footprints of squiggly pink feet. She flung the tumbler at me; I beat my wings so vigorously that a smoke of dust was issued from my plumage. I narrowly escaped the wrath of my incensed mother; there was no point in risking any further. I battled my way out of the narrow window openings; with great alacrity, I proceeded to situate myself over the compound wall. Here, I stayed put for the rest of the day; practiced my words carefully hoping for a better – humanlike- sound.
“Sister knew it was me” I bethought.
That afternoon, a cat gained access to my dug out. Below me, mother and father were hurriedly explaining to the local police about my disappearance overnight. Neighbours gathered, yet again, in beads of necklace formation. The cat dropped its whiskers, exposed its full set teeth, and stretched its elongated dark furred body with its nose rested on forepaws. One by one, its paws menacingly loomed over me. What could I do? I no longer had the will to live. So I submitted. As a purr whizzed my ears, and a meow stung my earlobes intensely, the cat’s teeth dug into my teeny weenie neck. My last memories were that of sister clapping buoyantly; she jumped up and down jubilantly; everyone else was preoccupied in my disappearance.
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