Dumb to heroic!

So there are these pigeons that come to my neighbour's terrace every evening to be fed their usual grains and water.
Yesterday, one pigeon got tangled on a little ball of thread that was stuck on one of the powerlines (I wonder how it got there in the first place) This pigeon was hanging from it and struggling to fly it’s way out but just made it worse by getting more tangled in it. Fellow pigeons were of no help as they kept fluttering around (you know how dumb they can be)
Before I could think of any way to help this bird, these men below my apartment, construction workers, made arrangements on the middle of the road and in about less than 3 minutes, rescued the pigeon. Carefully, they took off all the thread this bird was tangled in. Happy, wounded pigeon joined the other dumb pigeons.
Yes, it might not be the greatest heroic act in history. But to stop what you are doing to help another being is the greatest heroic act to me!
These men and those fatty pigeons have taught me something today!

The Ugly Cake

On my fifth birthday, I saw a big, ugly cake in a bakery. It was Chocolate, layer on layer and white icing on the borders with yellow somethings on top and grand and I liked it. It was expensive and my mother couldn’t afford it. I knew that, but I wanted it to be my birthday cake. I was easily distracted and we went back home. It was almost dinner time and I asked for the ugly cake again and again. Mummy took the keys told me to look after my brother and left. She came back home with a bag in her hand and went straight to the kitchen. Then she helped me change into a dress and as she was braiding my hair, very gently she told me it wasn’t very nice of me to ask for an expensive cake despite knowing what we were going through. That we could’ve celebrated with a small cake. That she loved me very much. That greed isn’t good. That it’s important to be understanding.

 And then a little later she came out from the kitchen with a big brown box and a big smile. The ugly cake was mine, but I didn’t feel so good anymore. I looked at my mummy and then I looked at the ugly cake. I experienced love and hate at the same time. I felt loved. I hated myself. Mummy lit a candle on the ugly cake and asked me to make a wish. I don’t remember if I did. I just remember feeling terrible as she sang the birthday song and clapped. I blew out the candle and I cut the ugly cake. It tasted as ugly as it looked. I remember feeling ugly inside. I don’t remember the rest of my fifth birthday.


A few months later, I witnessed death for the first time. A lady who lived in the same chawl that my friend lived in and had a grey side wall had set herself on fire. I never did like that chawl anyway. She was dead and her family was crying. People were whispering all kinds of thing, which I didn’t understand. She was dead and everything else was a blur. A few weeks after that, I witnessed a suicide attempt. Her blood was warm and she was pale. She was screaming and crying. She was alive and everything else was a blur.
There are many things I’ve forgotten, willingly and unwillingly. Sometimes even photographs aren’t a reminder of a certain memory. I don’t remember easily and I forget easily. But there are some things I will never forget. The ugly cake is one of them. Death is another. At five, I learnt two things. That greed brings unhappiness. That death isn’t a choice, but life is.


Life is full of ugly cakes and choices.