Act of the Disappearing Chick

One summer afternoon, as I was colouring my picture book, granny announced that she was going to the market and I could accompany her. I was thrilled at the prospect of going to the market with her because I could get a lot of goodies. I quickly abandoned my colouring book and crayons, straightened my frock and socks, wore my shoes, took a peek at the mirror and was all set to leave. Granny had a drill as well. She grabbed her money purse, spectacles, shopping list and a large shopping bag. Then she held my hand firmly as we marched to the market.

I was happy that we were going to the market and not to the boring school bus stop or the doctor’s clinic, as the market was a more wonderful, colourful, lively place with its vegetable and fruit shops, sweetmeat shops, toy stores, candy shops, bakeries, balloons and soap-bubbles. I started to hum my favourite song from the movie, Sound of Music,

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes,

Silver white winters that melt into springs,

These are a few of my favourite things.

It was a bright but lazy day. As we approached the market we saw many a hopeful vendors being outnumbered by buyers – an ideal market place. We walked past shops with seasonal fruits, vegetables, salads, chicken, fish, boiled groundnuts and gram sprinkled with onions, coriander and paprika. On the other hand, there were vendors selling random items like plastic pots and pans, jute baskets, earthen pots, utensil scrubs and floor cleaners, small pods of basil and mint, etc.

As we moved ahead, we passed by the bakery. The smell of fresh bread filled my nostrils and heart alike. Before I could say anything, granny turned towards the bakery and brought me a huge vanilla muffin. She knew it would keep me busy for some time, long enough for her to finish her shopping in peace without being nagged for more goodies or questions. After a quick judgmental peek at the market, she was ready for her purchase. She started enquiring about the prices of the products on her list and I was awed (as usual) to see that granny seemed to know the right price for all the products she wanted to buy. How could she? I always wondered! But granny was gifted, and so I rested my awe to peace.

After she was done with the veggies, salads and fruits, we turned to my favourite place, the fish market. She bargained a large pomfret and tiger prawns for us. After they were cleaned, de-veined, safe and secure in granny’s bag, she gave me a satisfied look and patted on my shoulder as if nudging me to suggest that the battle was won. We had declared victory over the market and could finally head homewards. She loved to see the sparkle in my eye after the fish-haul. My day was made. She said, 'Hey cat, let’s go home and sizzle that fish.' This was our weekly ritual, and on our way back she would always call me a cat because the smell of fish made me sniff like a hungry cat.

With the muffin safely tucked inside my tummy, I started to look for other things to entertain myself. Just then, my eyes fell upon a cage full of tiny yellow birds. A closer look told me they were small gold-feathered chicks. The sign beside the cage read, ‘FOR SALE’.

I decided, I wanted a pet chick!

I gave a hopeful look to granny with my dreamy eyes and sheepishly asked her if I could have one. Her immediate reaction was, 'NO'.

I pleaded. She refused.

This was the usual pattern and I knew what I had to do next. I loosened the grip of my hand from hers, lowered my eyes, pouted my lower lip, dropped my shoulders and started dragging my feet while walking. Calculatedly, I knew she would notice it within 20 to 30 seconds and start a conversation. And surely within a minute she said, 'This is why I don’t like to take you to the market. You ask for anything and everything.'

It was going just the way I had planned and so I did the next predictable thing. I looked at her with the saddest eyes ever and said, ‘Ok gran’. The trick was to keep the eyes open for a minute and allow the water to accumulate at the side of the eyes. Not too much, but just enough to give the ‘cry-eye’ look. I looked upwards with the perfectly mastered head-tilt and made it seem like the swelled up water in my eyes would overflow any minute. This would make her melt. And melt she did.

She tried to contain her smile and said, 'It’s too small to eat. We can get a chicken instead.'

I was devastated. I said, 'Gran, I want it for a pet.'

Granny’s heart melted further. Perhaps she was ashamed of her thoughts. She said, 'Baccha, what will you do with it? It’s so tiny. Who will feed it? Who will look after it?'

Obviously, I had no answers to such difficult questions. All I knew was, I was going home with one golden chick. I kept the cry-eye look on and gave her the most truthful answer, 'Granny, they are all so cute. I just want to take one home, only one. Please, please, please granny, please let me have one golden chick.'

She didn't see any sense in buying a chick and couldn’t figure what I could possibly do with it, so she tried her best to dissuade me, but I had already fallen in love with one smart yellow chick who was looking at me with it's cute beady, little eyes.

I said, 'Gran, I need a pet gran. I really need a pet chick, gran. I’m going to name him Goldie. I will take care of him, Gran. One day he will become big and give us lots of eggs Gran and then we don't have to deal with Rashid the egg-wala every day.'

What logic!

Granny hated the smelly Rashid because it seemed as though he never changed his clothes. As for me, I doubted whether he took a bath ever since his mom stopped bathing him as a child. He would bring his eggs in a metal cage container with a handle on top which had a small bell attached to it to announce his arrival. The bell would ring as Rashid walked briskly flinging the container in his hands. The container had chicken feathers stuck on it and as Rashid sprinted from door-to-door the feathers would fly out and leave a trail behind. Rashid would come to our neighborhood twice a week and granny would sweep the common areas after him twice a week. The other ladies in the neighborhood were far too busy to bother. But granny, though busy, was always worried that the kids playing around could catch an infection from the bird feathers. But that’s not all, what granny hated most was the stench Rashid left behind after his visit. Once I overheard granny saying, 'Rashid smells like he just laid an egg himself.'

Whatever did that mean! I didn’t know.

Granny couldn’t refuse me for too long and fortunately I knew this. She looked at me, smiled and proceeded towards the bird-seller to negotiate the right price for the right chick. Within the next five minutes a deal was struck and sealed at 40% lower than the quoted price and Goldie was handed over to me.

As I held him in my palms I realized that he was so small and fragile that I was scared to even hold him, so I quickly dropped him back in the cage. The bird vendor had a queer expression on his face. The deal was done, a sale was made and neither he nor granny could go back on their words. Granny requested the bird vendor to give her a small plastic bag to place the little bird inside and gently handed Goldie back to me.

As I took the bag in my hands, Goldie slipped inside as if he was riding a roller coaster with his feet up in the air. The bag didn't have a firm bottom and he was happily rolling inside. Granny was uncomfortable to see this and so we took the shortest route home. As we were walking towards home, I was enjoying Goldie’s gymnastics and felt proud to have a new friend. I thanked granny and told her that Goldie knew I was his new friend and was trying to amuse me with his funny tricks. Granny happily nodded.

Once we were home, we had to find a place for Goldie to sleep, so we started to look for ideas. We couldn't find anything suitable, so we put him inside a steel vessel, but he was constantly slipping inside it. Finally granny put him inside a shopping bag which had a firm plastic base an inch high and a net above it through which we could watch over Goldie.

Granny placed 2 tiny bowls inside the bag, one with water and one with some soft cooked rice. I asked granny whether this was the chick’s lunch. She said, 'The chick will manage several lunches and dinners with this, but we can replenish his stocks in the morning should he polish off everything during the night.'

I agreed. We didn't discuss water, though!

I spent the entire evening gazing at Goldie. He roamed around the basket with a feverish pace, then a bit slowly, then in circles and finally when he was tired, he stood and gazed at me for a long time before he started to run again. Every now and then, I would give him a small nudge on his head and he would start pacing the basket up and down again. This drill went on till dinner time.

I had a habit of drinking water during dinner which granny hated. She would say, 'Too much water slows down the digestion process. Let your stomach do its job.' But I continued sipping water during dinner and also went back to the basket to peep at the chick every now and then.

After dinner, I played with the chick for a long time. I grew so fond of the chick that I was already hatching plans for his future. I planned to build him a better home, maybe I could take a cardboard box and cut out doors and windows out of it, colour it, decorate it with stars and ribbons and it could serve as a great home. I also planned to get him married. Our girl gang was anyway too bored of Doll-Weddings, and a Chicken-Wedding would be so much fun. The girls would also appreciate my innovativeness and I could be the girl gang star for a while or perhaps a leader for some time. The leader always chose which game to play and that was so cool. I planned to invite my girl friends home after school the next day to see my new friend. As I was making tall plans, I felt thirsty once again as the summer heat was draining me out of the all the water I had drunk. As I drank another glass of water, I thought of Goldie.

I saw that the bowl of water placed inside the basket by granny was only half full. I realized that he had drunk half a bowl of water from afternoon till night. It was summer, and if I needed water again and again, wouldn’t he too? I refilled his bowl, right up to the brim.

I wanted to be sure that he had enough to eat and drink through the night and in the morning granny would naturally replenish his stocks. After all, granny was my all-knowing, all-caring granny, but I knew a lot, too.

We had our dinner and while granny was doing the dishes, I fixed my school bag and returned to Goldie. He was pecking at a few grains of rice and fondly gazed at me. I knew he was wondering what to do next. But I knew it was good to stay hydrated, besides it would help him wash down his food. I gently picked up the water bowl and took it to his beak. He was startled and jumped aside. Such a fool. I took the bowl near his beak again and nudged him to drink. But as sacred as he was, he jumped away to the other end of the basket. I pursued him many times but he got away each time. I thought to let him be, but how could I ever explain to him that water was a must for him. I felt the scene was somewhat similar to the scene at home when granny pursued me to eat my veggies and soup. I silently told myself that I am no different from the adamant chick who didn’t want to drink water. Finally, I decided to do what granny does...I left him alone.

Little did I realize that I had spilled all the water in the basket during our little hide-and-seek.

I returned to the basket again after some time to find Goldie happily dancing in the basket, with wet feet and all. He was enjoying the water dance and it reminded me of our rain-dance. I was happy to see him happy. Tomorrow he was going to enjoy the company of my girl-gang and I was going to enjoy all the attention. I couldn’t sleep and was waiting for the clock to turn to school time. As I was planning the next day, I saw that the water bowl was empty and realized he must have drunk all the water while I was away. Poor thirsty chick. I refilled his bowl, yet again.

Just before sleeping, granny and I sat down to pray. We usually thanked God for the day that he gave us and welcomed him into our hearts forever. We prayed for good health, good future and the well-being of our family, our neighbors, and the world at large. We prayed that all hatred, ill-will and treachery should disappear from the face of the earth and every child and her granny should be happy ever after. Today, I asked granny to change the last line of the prayer to, every child, her granny and her little yellow chick to be happy ever after. Granny readily obliged.

I took another round to check whether Goldie had enough water for the night and poured some more water into the bowl…most of which spilled into the basket.

Just then, granny summoned me to bed. I tried to close my eyes but couldn't sleep as I kept thinking about Goldie and wondered if he had enough to eat and drink through the night.

Granny slept instantly. I made sure she was asleep and quietly slipped out of my sheets. I tip-toed to the basket to find Goldie happily roaming around the basket. But he was not moving as easily as he was during the day. I guessed he would be tired from all the playing and dancing through the day but like a good hospitable friend, I poured some more water in his bowl, just in case he needed it. He splashed in the water and enjoyed the swim. Finally, I blew a good night kiss to Goldie and fell asleep right beside his basket.

I came to my senses only when granny dragged me to the bathroom. I brushed, bathed, put on my uniform and got to the breakfast table. I didn't want to miss my school bus. After all I had to announce Goldie to my friends. We had to discuss his play plans, his wedding plans and also design his new home.

Oh, but I had almost forgotten to say hello to Goldie. I quit my breakfast and ran towards the basket but to my surprise, the basket was empty! Goldie had vanished! I screamed. I couldn’t breathe. I ran to the kitchen and asked granny whether she had moved Goldie to another basket or if she was bathing him or anything else?

Granny rushed me out of the kitchen, handed me my school bag, and quickly said, 'The stupid chick ran away. Stupid. Really stupid. Now you run along else you will miss your school bus.' With that she pushed me out of the house and right into the bus.

The next six hours in school seemed like an eternity. I was so distraught with Goldie’s behaviour that I didn't mention him to anyone. And I would not say a word about him till I found out for myself. Goldie had disappeared! Goldie had eloped! Goldie didn’t love me! After all the love I showered on him (or all the water I showered on him) how could he run away?

Granny should have an answer, but right now I had to stay calm and not let others know that something was amiss. Granny would find him and bring him back. Then I would ask him if he wished to be friends with me or else I would let him go wherever he wanted to. But right now I had to stay calm. What if he never came back? What if he never wished to stay? It was all too confusing. I let the day be just another day at school, though my whole world had crashed in on me due to Goldie’s disappearing act.

I didn’t talk much that afternoon and after school I quickly got into the school bus and came home. I sped up as I was walking towards home. Granny as usual greeted me at the gate. Her look was not quite herself. She seemed sad (just like me) and her look told me that Goldie was not back. I looked up at her and before I could rattle out a question, she said, 'Baby its okay, the chick was so stupid, he ran away. He didn't know he had a great friend in you, a new home, new toys and a variety of food to eat. But, you don't feel sad. You have the girls to play with and you have me. Sometime later we will buy you an intelligent pet, a dog perhaps. Whatever you like. Someone who won’t run away.'

That was clarity.

I felt sad that Goldie didn’t even care to say good-bye before leaving but I completely agreed with granny and moved on with life, but I never forgot about the chick and his disappearing act. During my early years I would often feel sad that the chick had left so suddenly, but later I told myself that he might have left as he would have missed his own clan and would have gone in search of his fellow chicks. Sometimes I would feel deep anger for his rejection of my friendship. Little did he know about my plans. He had missed it all. He was such a loser, not me. I harboured this feeling within my heart for many years and whenever I saw a bird cage, I would remember the act of the disappearing chick.

Years passed by. I graduated and was about to leave home for further studies. Granny still lived in the old house and I decided to pay her a visit before leaving. Granny had prepared fish curry, steamed rice and fried prawns for me. As I reached, I saw that a much feeble granny had already set the table and said, 'Feast my Cat!'

We sat down to lunch and reminisced the past. We spoke about a lot of things, from school to girl-gang, from markets to parks, from doll-weddings to toy sharing, from homework to fake sleep, from bakery to…bird-vendors...! Yes, bird-vendors!

I laughed at the mention of bird-vendors and golden chicks and couldn’t help discussing Goldie. After all, it was an incident that had pinched my heart for so long and I was seeking its closure since a long time. I thought of chatting it up with granny one last time before I moved on to open my heart to greater things in a whole new world. I told granny that it was queer how the chick hopped away from the tall basket. He must have had quite an adventure, escaping the room and out into the streets. Maybe he was lost, maybe he repented leaving us and the house and turned back, but could not find his way back. Or maybe he just wanted to live his life as a free spirited independent bird, like Jonathan Livingstone Seagull! Maybe he didn’t like me after all, dumb as he was. Once again I naughtily reconfirmed whether granny had shut the back door that night or did the poor chick trot away unknowingly!

Such a mystery. I laughed at my own thoughts and how I had harboured the incident as well as the fear of rejection in my heart for such a long time. I continued to laugh as I took a break from my fish curry and looked at granny. To my surprise, granny seemed pensive and engrossed in her own thoughts.

I provoked her, 'Hey Granny, remember how Goldie escaped you. Granny, you. He escaped you!' This time granny looked up and shot me an inquisitive look and was assured that I had caught her attention. It felt as though she was trying to capture some images of the past and replay them in her mind.

Finally, she broke her silence and cleared the mist from a 15 year old mystery.

She told me the story of the day when she woke up to a horrific morning. At day-break (for that’s when granny woke up every day) she headed to check out on the chick. And to her shock, she found the chick dead, frozen to death! He was feet-up, in his water bed. The water bed which I had designed for him by putting and spilling too much water in his bowl which eventually filled his basket.

It killed him slowly through the night.

I realized that when I last saw him that night, when I said good-bye to him, he was quiet because he was actually crying for help. He was freezing, dying. I had dreamt of him all through the night. I had built up tall tales to tell the girls the next day. But I had put all situations in place to murder him! I murdered him that night!

Granny quickly lifted the dead bird and gave him a small funeral under the mango tree behind the house. She planted a yellow rose tree on it and later conjured up the story of the disappearing chick.

My hands went cold and how I wished I hadn’t provoked granny today. I wished the story remained that of a stupid, naughty, rebellious chick and not that of murder. Suddenly I realized what granny had done. She had bailed me out. I quickly went across behind the house to see the rose tree with its beautiful yellow roses in full bloom and realized that Goldie had forgiven me.

I imagined a different version of the next morning. I would wake up to see the dead bird in its watery grave. I would panic. I would never forgive myself. I would have broken. I would have folded up. I would have lived a long time in guilt. My formative years would never have been the same. Perhaps, I would never have made friends, never trusted myself, and never have the confidence that I have today. The incident could have changed me forever. It would have morphed me into another person – a very different person from what I am today. Granny had the choice to make me the person that I am today or the scarred person I could have been. And she chose me.

Years have passed and whenever I think of the cold-blooded murder I committed as a kid, surprisingly I don't feel guilty because I was redeemed of my sin even before the feeling of guilt could seep through my young mind. Granny averted a huge disaster. She had turned a page in my life forever and for good. She had cut off a dirty piece of my life and sewn the two ends together, permanently.

Granny granted me redemption and so I stayed redeemed forever.

(Authors Note : This is a true story with minor variations to names, places and situations)