Birds of One Feather

Picture postcard railway station. And a train two hours late. Not much scope for amusement. It's in places like that that you get to see the weirdest things.

I saw a crow. I couldn't figure out how old or young it was. It would have been completely unremarkable at first sight had it not been for the fact that its neck appeared to have been cut away, leaving only a stub of sinew still keeping its head on its body. After being arrested by such a sight at the first glance, all of us on the station paid a little more attention to it. Apart from such a disastrous neck, its wings seemed to have been ripped badly to pieces, looking on the whole as though it had escaped from the butcher while being chopped up alive or something. Such a feeling of pity came into my heart as I had never felt for years.

It wasn't alone. It couldn't fly so it kept hopping all over the ground, squawking all the while. Overhead on the beams of the roof on the platform were two fully grown healthy crows, also squawking and following its movements. My first thought was that they were looking out for a opportunity to get hold of it and eat it (crows are omnivorous, or at least are thought to be). Later, we all realized that they were actually watching over it and protecting it, from the two stray canines that were roaming around the creature, probably looking for an opportunity to grab an easy meal. They did not attack it though, as if aware of the nasty repercussions that could follow from the sharp beaks of its protectors.

The scene almost made me cry, when I realized what was happening. That the healthy birds were trying to protect their mate, ready to attack if needed. That they were ready to use their muscle, and the dogs on the ground were withholding due to their fear of being attacked by the birds. Quite a different scenario from the usual one of the more ferocious creature playing predator and the weaker one being the prey.

The truth to realize is that what is perceived as weaker is not always so. People can never be underestimated, coz you never know when the sleeping tiger would awake and gobble you up.

Rediscovery Of Reading

I am a student, and I must be as any student is, eager to learn, to reflect upon learning, to derive an opinion of those reflections, and to express that opinion. A beautiful thought always comes unbidden, and it is a crying shame indeed not to be able to record and preserve it somehow.

I am travelling home at the moment, and I have been granted a seat by the window, which is well; since it offer me a chance to observe that which I always miss when I travel this route, since I have alwyas so far passed though at night, when there is too little of illumination to enjoy what the eye may perceive. It just occurs to me that this is a beautiful time at which to be traversing this route.

I am alternately reading and writing, and the tome which submits to my perusal at the moment is a classic, a masterpiece of English literature. I certainly approve the content, the plot of the story, but earlier it was just a story to me, set in very refined language; this time, after a space of four years as I read the lines, I am delighted to rediscover my love and appreciation for good literature and expressive language. A mark of a good book would be that every perusal of the book leaves you with something new to think about; something to set you little grey cells buzzing, a process which certainly leads to intellectual excercise, and more importantly, the blowing away of cobwebs that set in and build up due to an overdose if entertainments that do not essentially require an alert and active mind.

In this reading of my book, I have singled out a battery of words and expressions that I should like to inculcate in my daily vocabulary; I have rediscovered a style of speaking, writing and thinking that has to my mind, expressiveness without sacrificing brevity and clarity; and in examining the characters of the main players in the story, I have been reminded forcefully yet subtly, of those noble qualities and refinements, that I wish to have imbued in my own character.

I am grateful that Providence guided my hand to this book, when I raised my arm to choose. For it is just one more incident leading me to rebirth and rediscovery.