Feathered Friends

My grandpa and an uncle are my favourite people. They were part of my early childhood. I have always had fond memories of them. It has been years since they died but I remember and talk about them frequently at home.

When a person dies, crows are fed cooked rice as a ritual during the mourning period. I have associated crows with my grandpa ever since, for it was the first time I saw the ritual. My uncle told me a number of stories about grasshoppers. He also said it was a good omen to see one. Of course, they were tales made up to entertain me. Yet, a grasshopper is an instant connection with my uncle. On the rare occasions I see a grasshopper in the city, I can't help feeling very happy.

Ponnu and her dad know about my favourite people. It amuses them a lot to see me give food to the crows that at times perch on our window. When Ponnu sees a crow on the window she goes, "Hey Ma, your grandpa has come to see you."

A grasshopper jumped into our living room one night, just once, frightening Ponnu who is afraid of insects. Of course she does not admit to that. "I find insects icky," is her explanation.

Ponnu doesn't shoo off the crows that often visit our home. But the pigeons get her goat. "Ma, are the pigeons related to you?" she asked me once. I said that was a funny question. "Well, you have the crows and the grasshoppers. What about the pigeons?" I said, "No ways," still wondering the reason for the query. I soon got the answer. "Then I can shoo these pests off this minute. Thank god they are not your relatives."