Nature’s own miracle
N J Ravi Chander
It was a bright and clear weekday morning. The weatherman’s forecast of heavy rains seemed to have gone awry. Nevertheless, the early morning breeze was like a balm, and the birds’ call was like music to the ears. My better half Shobha, an early bird, was busy trying out her new rangoli pattern in front of the house. This is her first chore every morning after sweeping and washing clean the little space near the entrance.
We count ourselves lucky to live in a part of the city with a good green cover. The place teems with birds, bees and butterflies. Sunny, my younger son, is a bird lover and invests some time every day in feeding the winged wonders and replenishing the water tub for the avian visitors to cool off. It is amusing to see the crows dip the pieces of bread into the water before consuming them.
On that eventful morning, I had settled down on the sofa of the drawing-room with the newspaper. Suddenly a shrill cry rang out. “Dad, come out quickly,” my son hollered. He sounded alarmed, and there was anguish in his voice.
I rushed out only to be greeted by the sad sight of a lifeless, small black form lying on the grass beside the electric pole near our house. A raven had dropped from the sky after being electrocuted by the high-tension power line that ran overhead. The same power line had claimed the lives of a number of crows some months ago, shocking bird-lovers in the area.
As my wife, son and I watched crestfallen, wondering if the bird could spring back to life again like the proverbial phoenix, a strange sight befell us. Half a dozen or so ravens gathered on the tree and started making a ruckus as if to suggest that something terrible had happened.
As the minutes ticked away, the din grew louder, and our hopes receded. And then, after a few tense moments, the lifeless form of the raven magically moved, slowly got to its feet, stood there for a while as if in a daze and then with one mighty effort flew away as we watched wonder-struck.
There were lusty cheers all around as the other crows followed their hero. Call it a miracle or the will of God, but the incredible drama that played out before our eyes made our day.
(The author is a former banker who has taken to writing as a past time. He writes to numerous national and regional publications including Kashmir Vision)
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