Sunday, 15 December 2013

Hatred and Regret!

There are certain confessions I should make before you proceed reading this story, as I don’t want you to derive any sort conclusions about me.

1. I love plants. I talk to my plants everyday and I believe that talking to the plants makes them healthier.
2. I love all animals apart from cats.
3. I think, more than 50% people are incurious and unaware OR   I have met 50% of the incurious and unaware population of the world. The remaining 50% I yet have to encounter. I’m convinced at 22 ,that the future is all about meeting these remaining 50%. No doubt , I never got the half-glass-filled theory.


(And now I think, I have made it worse. However, I bet there’s more to this. )

 Since childhood I was often asked if I hated anything.  My answer was always NO. People thought I was lying but I didn't care, as I knew that I actually did not hate anything.  I always thought of hatred as a very important feeling. In fact it is the most important feeling which is why one should not waste it on someone unworthy.

It was somewhere around September this year, no , not when Hatred struck me but when my mother suddenly developed some fondness over pigeons for reasons only known to her which I’m incapable of understanding.But this was nothing new to me. My mother is capable of doing anything. Leave her with a group of Americans and in an hour you would hear all of them singing Hindu devotional songs. So, I was happy thinking that the pigeons hadn't begun singing at least.

My mother used to feed them and talk to them. If birds were allowed to be the heirs of any property, my mother would have done that too, she had grown so friendly towards them.

 I had no problem with pigeons which had become her pets,until...

These pigeons had built their nest right outside my kitchen. They created  all sorts of noises even while my mother wasn’t around at all hours of the day. Right from mating, fighting & loving to cheating , they did it all in front of my eyes.  No, I wasn’t interested in their life but was simply curious to know why do they have to make noise all the time.

I wasn’t able to write, read or sleep. My ears had become so used to their noise that at night my ears imagined that noise while they actually slept.  My life had gone topsy-turvy. I had dark circles all over my face.

  After 6 long months and  their 2 generations (I guess), I decided to put an end to this mess.

On a Sunday, I woke up early in the morning and emptied a brand new PONDS POWDER in their nest, of course in their absence. I wouldn't say this trick worked, but it was effective to some extent. 
Two out of the four pigeons migrated to some other place. But the other two enjoyed in their nest as if they were in a powdery-bath tub. As I kept looking at them when they fluttered their wings in the powder filled nest and all the powder particles rose up into the air to seek homage on my face.
Failed attempt!

In my 2nd attempt I  poured the  bowl of water which I had used  for painting on the pigeons. Ohh!! They had become red and yellow.. Now this time I succeeded in getting rid of one of the two pigeons.  Just one left! I knew this one was the strongest, smartest and the most rigid one. I had to think indicatively.

In my third attempt I somehow managed to occupy my mother with activities that would benefit her, which included devotional trips at nearby places, SPA’s and movies (Morning shows-are-cheap-trick worked).  After four hungry days , the pigeon finally left for some other place. I had thought the pigeon would never come back and my misery had ended.

However, after a peaceful week, one fine morning, I heard that same annoying sound. I got up from my bed to trace the source of the  sound and reached in my bedroom's balcony. It was the same pigeon. It looked me in the eye again. Sometimes you know something bad is going to happen and this one was one of those classic moments for me.

I had no time to think about what could happen. I had to hurry to office. I quickly took a bath and was all set to go when I opened my bag to check if I was carrying my Cellphone charger. (My bag is so messy that a thief would get tired and not end up stealing anything eventually.) I entered my room’s balcony and emptied all its contents on the railing to find the charger. It was within seconds of finding the charger when the happiness hadn't even sunk in, when the same pigeon flew away right next to me taking away my railway pass.

How do I know it was the same pigeon? It was red and yellow.

On other days I never ever found TC’s at the station but on this day when everything was going wrong I was caught by the TC. No surprises, I had to pay Rs 650 as fine, go back to the ticket counter stand in the line and buy a new ticket. Yes, I was late. I was late for the presentation. The last thing I wanted to see were my ideas being presented by my rival. Moral of the story-We won the the client but the brand was no more mine.

But I couldn’t blame my boss or the rival or the TC or the slow moving train or Mumbai traffic.
What do I tell my boss? A pigeon is responsible for the delay?  No he wasn’t in the mood to listen to any excuses either. (Afterall, it was he who had come up with the tag line for ‘Sprint DEO’ – ‘No more excuses’.)  

How difficult is it to sustain a smile on your face in undesired situations, is something I learned that day. 

The pantry of my office was located on the terrace and had a roof to avoid any trespassing by birds. I didn’t even feel like eating anything .So, I simply ordered curd. While I was busy recollecting the entire days mess, I saw the same pigeon sitting on my terrace railing. It wasn’t facing me but I caught him looking at me. 

Then I just realized that I’m hallucinating. There isn’t any pigeon in front of me. I have merged my thoughts into reality. Just when I was convinced about the pigeons presence being an illusion , the pigeon moved side- ways and looked at me right in the eye again. I couldn’t believe a pigeon stalking me. But what happened next is something that I still don’t believe. This pigeon with yellow and red spots flew right on my table and dipped his beak in my curd.

I screamt and moved back in such a way that I fell off the chair, pushing the person walking next to me in such that his plate landed exactly on my head. While this happened everything had changed ; people’s views about me, my developments in a prospective relationship and the brand of course. But one thing didn’t change the pigeon was standing still on the table looking at all the people staring at me in disgust.

More than being embarrassed I was angry and helpless.
I decided to leave office early that day. I was on my way to the station and stuck in traffic right next to a pigeon feeding place. I was intently looking at all the pigeons.  A thought came into my mind: what if the pigeon is still following me and has made friends with all the pigeons in this country and is planning an attack on me sometime soon. Just when all these thoughts were erupting in my head, a pigeon flew in my direction. It reminded me of the morning incident , followed by paranoia which made me scream and  throw the change in my hand on the pigeons.

What happened next is no less than a scar.





Because of my scream all the pigeons flew in the opposite direction and ended up hitting the glass of a bus in the opposite lane. The impact of all pigeons was such that the glass broke, the driver was hurt and the bus hit a newly renovated Bar. I couldn’t believe I had witnessed this tragic incident and my scream led to it.
I closed my eyes to get a sense of reality and when I opened it, I saw the red & yellow pigeon on the bark of a tree. I saw him looking at me.

However, before people could trace the source of this accident , I stepped out of the taxi and began walking towards the station.

I was 22 and yes, I had my first ever encounter with HATRED. It was extremely discouraging. I had dreamt of hating an important person, I had thought so high of Hatred and here I was living an unimaginable dream- I HATE PIGEONS.

On my way back home, all the loose ends were automatically tied together. The pigeon must have taken a week break to come up with a full proof revenge plan.
By the end of this action packed day, I knew it was war and I had to gear up.

I googled, I thought and I innovated 56 ways to get rid of pigeons. I was totally ready to put my plan into action.

I went to bed at around 2am and woke up late. It was a Saturday, a holiday.  My mother was already awake. She forced me to feed the pigeons. She said, “When one feeds pigeons, one’s home is filled with more and more grains.”.  Yes I too fed the same pigeon because I didn’t want to disappoint my mother.
I had a perfect plan in place. 

Once my mother stepped out of the house I transferred cold water in a flask to pour it onto the pigeon but neither was he there nor was the nest there.

I don’t know why, but within a second, I felt bad. I looked at the flask I was holding and I had tears in my eyes, I don’t know why?

I thought a lot about it. May be the pigeon finally gave up. May be the pigeon succeeded in his revenge strategy OR may be he thought I’ve changed because I fed him in the morning on my mother’s insistence and sacrificed his happiness for mine.

The truth is no matter how hard I try to make my self feel good by believing in the first two points, somewhere deep down in my heart I’m convinced about the latter being the reason behind his disappearance.

I feel so small. I wish if I had fed him willingly.

My first and only encounter with hatred and......with regret too. 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

3 comments:

  1. The story is really touchy. Birds are also emotional I realize that because I have birds at my residence and feed them everyday.

    ReplyDelete
  2. That is an extremely smart written article. I will be sure to bookmark it and return to learn extra of your useful information. Thank you for the post. I will certainly return.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I will probably be back again to browse much more, many thanks for the data.

    ReplyDelete