I glided down and perched gently on the top of the parapet, a bit out of breath. It was a long hot flight. Had taken off just like that, didn't wait to eat anything. Longed for the priest, his stories, the fragrant rice he cooked for lunch. The sun had reached the middle of the sky. I looked at it and squinted. Moved a bit further across the parapet, into the shadow of the palm fronds that overlay a portion of this broken house. The tree grew beside the house, and the priest's hut was right across. I loved this vantage point.

The black temple glowed in front of me, and the lake shimmered and smoldered in the afternoon sun. Hot vapors rose in spirals and obscured any trace of my home on the other bank. The afternoon lake resembled a hot watery nothingness anchored to reality solely by the temple, which stood like the only solid thing on this bank, as it had stood there for God knows how many centuries.

I jumped down from the parapet and landed beside the temple well. Years of use had eroded the stone floor surrounding the well and created several depressions. They were always full with water. I dipped my beak into one of them and drank. My fatigue vanished with every sip.

Satisfied, I scratched my right ear. Killed a mite, tidied my feathers for a while, and cawed for the priest, twice. Three jumps and I moved up to his doorsill. Stood there, cawed louder, and waited.

No sounds came from inside the hut. Was he asleep? He usually answered my second caw. Puzzled, I cawed again, warily. Then an unknown rustle, someone was coming to the door, someone I didn’t know. I jumped back to the well. The door opened and a person came out. It wasn’t the priest. It was…. A woman?

I was shuffling through the sal-leaf plates since morning. I found one half-eaten banana, two grapes, and fourteen flattened rice cakes. Three were smelly, so I took eleven. Now I have fourteen pieces of food. F-O-U-R-T-E-E-N! Yes, you heard it right, fourteen's what I said. So why am I happy? Because I had just two pieces of food yesterday: a betel nut and a fish. I caught the fish with my own teeth from the lake.

Am I going to share my food with you? Of course not, you stupid crow! Why dost thou thus, when we have food, come to us?

Oh, okay, I am tired of your cawing. You can have this. Here, take it. TAKE it! One cake, don't ask for more.

So, do you like it? You're right, even I don't. I should have taken you to my home, you know. My mother made such beautiful rice cakes. All round, fluffy, served with a dollop of butter, the molten butter running down the sides. Uhhhhhh... that has made you hungry. Okay, one more, here you are...

Our house was very big, bird. You could call it a castle. My room was on the first floor. It overlooked the garden on the east. There was this huge jacaranda tree beside my window. I used to sit beside my window all day. I never liked working, bird. Yes, just like you. And, like you, I never went to school. None of my brothers ever went to school. Why should we? We never liked working.

My father worked all evening. There was a large hall on the ground floor. All villagers used to come and meet my father there. He used to lie flat on a huge couch and solve their problems. Me and my brothers were not allowed inside. One evening, Situ, my younger brother, chanced to peep into the hall...
(to be continued)

Miles and miles of nothingness. Some shrubs, strange grasses bearing stranger yellow-white flowers, disarrayed stacks of mould-spotted bricks, and a lonely palm. Perched on its topmost branch, I'm keeping an eye on the sun, which is taking an unusually long time today to battle away the morning mist.
The outer walls of my eyrie is wet with the dew, my feathers too. Just shook of some water off them. Don't feel like flying, not right now. Will perhaps stay here till midday. May visit the temple on the other side of the lake later. Didn't tell you about the lake, did I? It starts a hundred metres away from the base of the palm, to my right. It's gargantuan. Takes me the better part of an hour to fly across. Cross it, and there's the temple. Black stone, carvings all over. The deity is half-man half-lion. There is also a Shivalinga in an adjunct to the right.
On Saturdays, people throng the temple from all over. The temple is decked with flowers and banana leaves. Rest of the week, the only person around is the old priest, who lives in a small hut across the courtyard. The flowers rot on the doorpane, on the lake, reminiscent of Saturday night's revelries. The priest sits on the doorsill and mops his glasses, and sometimes, when he is rather pensive, tells me stories of the temple.
Feeling hungry. Will scour the lakeshore for some food before taking the flight to the temple. The sun is already overhead.