Miracles do happen
N J Ravi Chander
It was a bright, cloudless morning. The meteorologist’s forecast that the rain gods would appear and Bengalureans would be spared of the oppressive heat seemed to have gone awry.
The early morning breeze was a balm, and the call of the birds was 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 the yard in front of the house.
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 birds 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 daily. Suddenly, a shrill cry rang out. “Dad, come soon,” 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 opposite the house.
A raven had dropped from the sky after getting electrocuted by the high-tension power line that ran overhead. The same power line had claimed the lives of a murder 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. Around half a dozen ravens gathered on the tree and started creating a stir 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, flapped her wings and flew away.
We watched wonder-struck and lusty cheers went up 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 is a regular contributor to Kashmir Vision)