It was a dark and stormy night. The sky rumbled in an endless roll. The rain poured in buckets and the air crackled with whiplashes of lightning. The power went off and Manni brought out the oil lamp from the puja room for us to huddle around. The shutters were closed but the screaming wind sneaked in through the cracks and made the flame dance, and with it, our shadows on the wall.
Akka and Vijaya, my second sister, showed off their skill with hand shadows but the only ones we could guess were a fish and a flapping bird. I lost interest and was wondering if I could pick up a fight with my brothers when Anna got up and went to the window. I followed. He opened the shutter and peeped out. Water sprayed his face and mine. Whoa! It was indeed a wild night and Zeus seemed to be aiming his thunderbolts at our house.
It was a big, two storied building with sloping tiles but nowhere did it touch the firmament. In fact, our neem tree loomed over it. And it was the tree that Zeus was aiming at, not the house.
"Why is that bamboo pole sticking out from the top of the tree?" Anna asked, looking sternly at the five of us.
We sisters looked at each other blankly. The boys wilted.
"Out with it! I want the truth," Anna demanded, his big, brown eyes burning a hole into them.
"We … um …" Kumar dragged.
"It'll be worse if you don't speak up," Appa chipped in.
"He tied a metal rod to the bamboo," Cheechu blurted out, "and made me help him fix it to the tree…"
Kumar glared at him and explained, "We learnt about Benjamin Franklin's lightning conductor in school so…."
There was nothing to do but to keep our fingers crossed and wait out the storm. Every time thunder clapped over our heads, the adults around us added new words to our vocabulary.
The next morning we found the front yard littered with debris from the neem tree. Its fruits, leaves and twigs were strewn everywhere as the poor tree suffered spasms every time a lightning discharged electricity through it. My mother thrust a broom into our, girls', hands and ordered us to clean up the place. We thrust them into our brothers' hands and ordered them to clean up instead. They had been responsible for our disgrace so they would clean and we would supervise. Or rather, I would, since my sisters had other 'important' things to do.
I loved bossing over my brothers. I walked up and down pointing out to the single yellow leaf stuck on the ground or a butterfly wing wrapped round a neem fruit. The rain water had left a large collection of rubbish at the mouth of the drain. I went towards it and stopped short.
Did I hear a birdie cheep? I looked around. Another 'cheep'. But where was the bird? At the third fainter 'cheep' I found something that looked like a blob of grey flesh with feathers plucked out. I scooped it up with its bed of debris and ran to Anna shouting to my brothers over my shoulder to keep working. They promptly dropped their brooms and followed me inside.
"This is a common parakeet. It must have fallen from its nest last night. Whoever wants can have it but don't cry if it dies," my father said, stretching out his huge palm with the cowering fledgling in the middle.
My sisters and brothers vanished, leaving me with the baby. It was not a pretty sight but I couldn't let it die. With Anna's help, I fed it milk with an ink dropper, wrapped it in soft cotton and kept it in a warm place. Its cheeps became louder and stronger. The dull down changed colour and became an attractive green. The beak that had always been greedily open for milk became curved and sharp. I had indeed nursed a parakeet. Common, yes but I had given it life. It was my baby.
It couldn't remain an 'it' any longer. It had to have a name but was it a boy or a girl? Anna was away on tour as usual and no one else could tell me. There was no alternative but to call it 'Psittacula Kramerie', its family name.
'Psitta' in short with the 'p' silent. If it turned out to be a girl I would call her 'Sita'. If a boy, he would be 'Pitta'. Simple!
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