Temporary Musings at क्षणीक निवास

The twins were named Rama and Seema. Rama preferred red shawls. Seema stuck by her brown and blue one. Their mama who had gone missing for fifty years before the family discovered that he was a Pujari in Rajasthan had gifted it to her when he had finally come back home after five decades.

Rama was fond of animals, birds, and especially, plants. Her love for nature, sometimes, made her hate humans but she was proud of who she was. So, in a way, no harm done. Seema was a bit different. She liked expressing feelings through words, literally. If you ever get to meet her for a few days, you can tell that she is either saying “sad bhayo yaar” or “nice bhayo yaar” even if you plug your ears with your finger.

One fine day, Rama and Seema were lazing around in their garden. Corn had started to grow and so had mangoes. The chilly plants seemed as if they would start flowering in the next few days. The rare city bees started appearing. So did the crows of the crows.

“But how do crows crow?” that was Seema’s exact question.

Rama shifted her attention from the lalupate tree she was staring at to Seema’s question.

“They make a particular sound. बाँ Baa,” she said.

Seema stopped for a few seconds to conceptualize the crowing. “No, no,” she replied with irritation, “Crows cannot produce sound from the front of their beaks. They need to craw from the inside.”

Rama paused and said, “Yes, correct. So they say घाँ ghaa,”

The sparrows continued their search for bugs under the small guava tree.

***

Translation
Pujari– A (Hindu) priest
Sad bhayo yaar– (Slang) What a sad situation!
Nice bhayo yaar– (Slang) What a nice situation!

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