A Crow Story

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Now, he will sit at that bamboo pole, curious and searching. I wonder what he is up to? Yesterday, it was he who sat there still for an entire span of fifteen minutes and then bend his head out of some curiosity or in contemplation of a master plan. I was looking at him all the time and he, as usual he does not notice me. Let's say, I do not have the mesmerizing scent he is searching for.


 His life is a constant search and so I get back to my tea, which I had kept aside for a while. I like my tea cold. It soothes me. I mean any hot thing does not calm me, I love coolness, I love the chill, the nip in the air. A sudden stir he makes, takes me out of my reverie. He is now talking to his colleague, in a certain silent tongue. The eyes speak and I like expressive eyes. They both hop on the rope for a while, inquisitively. The colleague looks towards my direction and curiously tilts his head. I guess the colleague is a she, the way he takes interest in him.

 A flap and they are gone. They will come back again tomorrow. I am sure, they are curious beings. All crows are curious creatures. The parents of crows do not stop them from asking too many questions by the bend of their heads I guess. I love crows. I find them the best birds. They are my favorite. They are beautiful, playful and curiously innocent. If I had to be reborn as a bird then I would definitely choose to be a crow. They are simple in their terms, just happy being curious.

 I see them every day and almost everywhere, without fail, they will be ever alert of their surroundings. Oddly though, their indifference to these very surroundings makes them a hermit who enjoys all but attaches with none.

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