Sunday, July 26, 2015

The Morning Crow

There’s a brief moment when you first wake up where you have no memories, a blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness, but it doesn’t last long and you remember exactly where you are and what you are trying to forget.

Standing by the road, outside the corridors not very far of my balcony adjoining my home counterparts at those pretty much wee hours of an early morning, trying to breathe in the freshness of the morning wind. A Noticeable though attempt to the settled moist humid mud layered onto those fragmented laden winds and somewhere between those smudged unnoticeable track of clouds passing by, My eyes leaned down to my very existence of thy surrounding that must have had many a stories to tell. Unspoken unresistingly paused and cautiously mum by the morning still a fresh and new, to all those that was passe a night before and to all that, which was untold, unseen ,lost somewhere in the glorified sunshine peaking its way out from those golden outlined clouded skyline. One more day that made me day older, and a day wiser, caught into my chores of daily nuances, there was quite a bit left ,on the list to address to and get over with, by the passing day.

Pretty much noticeable, there came a crow ,struggling with a yellow piece of sheet of paper lying on the road, which had something stuck on to it, assuming it to be a rat most probably, I vigilantly kept watching the crow attending to this vicious activity. Trying to get off this thing off, the crow made several attempts with his beak, grounded on to the sheet holding on to it with one of his legs, despite the sheet went left and right, as I moved my head and eyes noticing the very playfulness chore of this crow who made an effort full attempt to break a leg. Meanwhile there was a group of several other crows that came down following the sight. By the time this all happened, the poor crow had somehow got one of his wing stucked to the sheet, and no matter how hard he tried flying around and letting it off him, he could not. Somehow he managed to take this short flight with the wing still stuck to this sheet, entering in this balcony of my next door neighbor. Everything by that time was hidden behind those parked cars and the rest of the crows followed him,and he was surrounded by an irony of kinds.

"People once believed, that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens, that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes the crow could bring that soul back to put the wrong things right."

I don't know what happened to this little fellow, did he made up to his own rescue, coming out of it and feeding on to his fetched breakfast, or did the others made there way to it, and for how long it all went. There was this vague thought that was troubling me, this story about the crow ,who was thirsty and made his way to quench his thirst by putting pebbles in that pot, letting water rise, so his beak could happily reach inside the pot and he could no longer be a restless thirsty one. Pretty much with a positive thought provoking folklore that gathered in me the strength to forces and something made me sure, that the wit and effort would come in handy, rescuing every task ,no matter it be a crow or anyone for that matter.

"I was like the cock who thought the sun had risen to hear me crow"

I came back in, completely forgotten about what I just witnessed, with a bunch of flowers that I had gathered, from the balcony corridors that were fallen down on the outskirts. Letting them flow on the glass bowl full of water, kept near the window, to my room, that had by now a ray of thick sunlight falling on to it.

Strangely I felt everything making sense out of senseless nuances of a morning parody with no linguistic attributes that came into being.The crow, the wind ,flowers, and the sunlight came following this morning, just like any other day. It was just that I stood there outside witnessing it.. - A realization.

"Victims, aren't we all"- Eric Draven

Oh, something is there, waiting for me. Perhaps someday the revelation will burst upon me and I will see the other side of this monumental grotesque joke. And then I’ll laugh. And then I’ll know what life is. - Anonymous.

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