CHULBUL'S STORY

My mother spent most of her time playing on the window sill and balcony on the topmost floor of a tall building in Mumbai. She had many friends with whom she spent all her time. They made love or fought with each other and when there was nothing to do they simply lazed around or preened and paraded. One day she saw her friend, Jeena, build a rather dirty nest beneath one of the windows in a neglected part of the house. Though the place was safe it was rather dark and dingy. After a few days, Jeena called my Mom to show her a pair of beautiful eggs she had laid. She also reminded my mother to build one in a safe spot.

My mother had a different idea altogether. She was very free spirited, and true to her name Juno, wanted her babies to be born in a place where they would be able to see the beautiful world that God had created for them. So she picked a flower pot, kept on the window ledge of the same building, in which a beautiful mogra plant had blossomed. She had a special liking for that pot. I believe she had met her partner there and they had once fought many a battle with other pigeons to win this pot. This part of the house got lots of sunshine for a large part of the day, the creek could also be seen from here and every evening God’s canvas threw up a different image of the setting sun in vibrant hues chosen from the Master Artist’s choicest palette.

 

Juno

In the beginning I was growing inside an egg while my sibling grew in another. My mother had laid us in the early part of May under the shade of the mogra .Young Juno, quite a beauty among her peers, gave an awful lot of time incubating us for most part of the day to keep us both warm. She had to take extra care since the Dark One, the crow, was always hovering around and, I believe, though I have yet to see him, King Kite too has his palace in the terrace right above us .His shrill call is enough to chill the blood of all the smaller birds, they say. Mom’s greatest nightmare was always about King Kite swooping down and picking one of us. On the eighteenth day, the 23^rd of May 2020 to be precise, I came out into this beautiful world. An excited Aunty, who lived in the room on the other side of the glass window and had been taking a lot of interest in us, named me Chulbul the very instant she set her eyes on me. My little brother or sister, too, hatched within a few hours but, sadly, did not survive. Mom quite liked the name given by this lady from inside the house. So that’s who I am- Chulbul.

The day I hatched

This lady would come to water her mogra plant every morning and had, I understand, told my mother that she would water it from the other side very carefully without harming her eggs. So, even now, whenever she comes with a small mug of water my mother flies out, though she never really goes too far and always keeps an eye on me, and lets her water her precious mogra slowly and carefully.

I am four days old

Mom never left me alone the first week and would always keep me nice and comfortable under her tummy. I snuggled in there and slept most part of the day. When I was a week old, she started leaving me for short spells every day to get food for her and me. The first day she left me I was very scared. I was shivering with fear till she returned. The good Lord, however, has given me sharp claws and a nice pointy beak, a little too big for my size, to protect myself and, as it goes without saying, to eat well. Mom would get the food in her beak and feed me herself. She still does that. The Aunty from inside the house would see me every morning and comment, “Look at Chulbul, he seems to grow a little every day and in no time he will fly out.” Jeena also came to see me. Mom asked her about her eggs but she just shrugged and said that they had not hatched yet. I heard the Aunty tell her husband, while taking photos of me, that Jeena was a very careless mother and would not incubate her eggs for long. Though she had laid her eggs before my mother and they were in a safe and secure place, she never really kept them warm and would disappear for long hours. Recently, she had laid a third egg, too, in the same nest but for all that she knew, Jeena had practically abandoned her eggs and would spend her time elsewhere. I understood that Aunty did not approve of her ways.

Jeena's nest

All the soft and tiny hair that I was born with gradually fell off my body and my colour too changed as the days passed. Soon in place of the fluffy light hair that I was born with, I started growing feathers- small, round and dark ones. These days I have become very naughty. My mother tries to keep me warm beneath her but I always manage to wriggle out. Sometimes I just peep out from under her and take a good look around me. There are lots of other plants around and many birds come here apart from my mother’s pigeon friends. My dad too paid us a visit once or twice but these days he does not have much time for us. He has told my mother that he has shifted to a better place since he finds this place rather boring, especially after that girl, who used to sit by the window and study for hours, has left the house and gone to stay elsewhere.I realized mom has to now raise me single handedly.

I have met the Dark One, and his wife, Blackie. I don’t really like them. Even the Aunty from inside the house does not like them and keeps shoo-ing them away whenever they start cawing. There is also Scooby, the squirrel. He is very swift and loves to nibble on all the new leaves and fresh buds. But he really has sharp ears and the moment he hears Aunty’s footsteps he makes a dash up the metal grille and is out of the scene in no time. I admire him. Yesterday a group of very pretty green birds ,with  rings of red round their necks and curved red beaks, came and sat for a long time on the wire outside.  I loved their bright colours and long tails but mom does not seem to be very fond of them. Do I catch a hint of jealousy? She always tells me to stick to our kind. Honestly, between you and me, I quite like these green birds. I often see them flying around in large groups. Grandfather Oogway also came to see me. He is probably the oldest and wisest pigeon around here. He said I will grow up to be a champion!  

A Week Old

My Friend Scooby

I am now two weeks old. My mother has to leave me alone for long stretches, almost three to four times a day. I don’t blame her really. She has to feed herself and also take care of my hunger pangs. I start to scratch her and nibble at her throat and push and pull her whenever I feel my stomach rumbling. She has been very patient with me. Guess what, she has this habit of putting me under her tummy and kind of sit on me. I think she has this crazy idea that if she keeps pressing me down, I will become fatter. Basically, she wants to protect and keep me warm so that I can grow well. What she fails to realize is that if I am all squashed up under her I can’t see anything. There’s so much to see all around. Recently, there was a bit of thunderstorm and some rain too. I had felt a few drops fall on me. Lot of gusty winds blew too. I felt cold and at night it was somewhat scary even though mom kept me well covered under her wings. This was the first time I experienced rain and storm. Mom tells me that the rainy season is approaching and I will have to learn to fly before that. Sounds very exciting!  Anyway, I am digressing a little but what I want to say is how I hate being all squashed up under her tummy. So I have mastered the art of slowly finding my way out from under her, coming out from beneath her tail and going over to the other end of the pot. Who doesn’t like a bit of freedom?

Mom and Me

What a Sight

This morning I caught my reflection on the glass pane. I think I am growing big and robust with dark feathers, more like my dad. I heard the other pigeons say that my father once ruled this part of the building. His name is Rufus Lamarck. Does the name ring a bell? These pigeons keep talking about some Game of Pots.

That's Me- The Stunner, jus' two week old!

Ciao!

DS