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Avian Revenge

Ranjit Kulkarni

    When he joined her back in the nest, he didn’t find her there. He couldn’t find their two eggs too. She was down below patting the soil with tears in her eyes.
    She had a distinct avian look. Small eyes, pointed beak, fluffed up feathers that had lost all their colour in the grief.
    The shock was too much to take. He asked her the reason for the impact. She pointed to the man in the balcony who had thrown them out. 'Babies died due to the impact. The eggs cracked. Then he threw cold water over the shells,' she told him.
    The other birds at the funeral sympathized with the couple. They were young, they said. They had a life in front of them. But it was not enough solace.
    Shedding tears did not provide enough reprieve. The two of them drowned in sorrow. They burned with smouldering anger. The fire of vengeance. Desperation. Helplessness.
    They had to take a chance. The consequences did not matter. It was impossible not to act. They did. It provided some solace. Then they left forever. To put together the broken remnants of their life.
    After their act, no one gave them food. Everyone put bird nets on their balcony. It was like putting an extra door with safety locks to their front door. After the avian attack.
    No one in that society felt this could happen till then.
    That a man could lose his eyes for no fault of his. That he could go blind because of an avian attack. By a pair of harmless doves? Weren’t they the symbols of peace?

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