Red Parrot

It was a normal Sunday afternoon. A normal day accompanied by rituals that were practiced daily. That’s the thing about significant events most of them live amongst the dense crowd of normal events. That’s how significant events become significant. It’s like a gold nugget surrounded by other mundane rocks.

Mohit was a 10-year-old boy who was about to realize that. In his rather uneventful life, most of his time was spent in front of a TV watching animals move and talk in human ways. The time he spent in front of the idiot box compensated for the lack of friends in his life. In many ways, the anthropological representation of animals that could move and talk seemed more real to him than actual humans. He was aware that these cartoons were nothing but a product of a creative person’s imagination who perhaps also found talking animals to be more real than people around him. He knew that these were not real, much like the baby hunting demon who hunts bad children that his mother reminds him of, whenever she wants him to do something. These things weren’t living and breathing at least in this world, the world he lives in. But there was always an off chance and he counted on that off chance.

 

On a normal Sunday afternoon, his parents slept which meant that he could watch all the TV in the world in that little time gap and he did. All good things must end as the end and how quickly it comes defines its worth. This ended when Mohit’s mother woke up and asked him to get some milk and bread from the market. He didn’t want to do it but when you are a little kid you really don’t have a choice. It was either this or his TV time could be cut in half or worse… his mother will summon the dreaded baby hunting demon.

 

Sounds of children playing in the park were audible by now. He didn’t like going out at this time, it made him feel like an outcast, like a die on the chess board. He picked up the money that was kept on the table and headed towards the market.

 

He chose a passage that was lonely and quiet. It was one thing to feel like an outcast and other to be witnessed feeling like one, it was almost as if their eyes ridiculed him. This was, of course, all in his head, the children in the park were rather friendly as Mohit would find out later in his life but for now, solitude was his best option.

 

Comforts of civilization often make’s us forget that we are animals still trying to digest the idea of civilization. But a childlike Mohit is too young to even be able to think about things that were before him. There was no past that was before him and no future that was ahead of him, he only lived in present and only cared about the present, maybe that is the source of a child’s innocence. Perhaps this significant event was significant because Mohit was robbed of his innocence.

He was closing in the distance between him and the market all that was left between was a park, an otherwise lonely one. Today it was occupied by violently barking dogs who were aiming their attention at what seemed to be the greenest bush ever. After some scouting, it was clear that something was in there who had the misfortune of capturing the attention of these rabid dogs.

 

The morals that were taught to him by the talking animals on the TV required him to display courage and rescue the weak. After all, civilization doesn’t work on the survival of the fittest, not in the traditional way at least.

 

He armed himself with a stick that matched his height, for close combat and picked a few stones up for long-range attacks. After waiting for a while for the enemy to give up as that would be the noble thing to do he started executing his plan of smacking the stick on the ground to scare the dogs away. He didn’t want to hurt him, he wasn’t capable of and he didn’t need to, the dogs ran away and maintained a distance.

 

Our brave hero with his chest facing the sky walked up to the bush to inspect the condition of the victim. At first, it was difficult to see because the green feathers of the parrot camouflage it well with the leaves but there it was stuck in the bush.

 

Mohit was fascinated by this creature he had only seen a parrot on TV before, apparently, they lived up to 140 years but this one was a little baby with a beak so red that Rudolph would feel ashamed. After admiring it a bit and inspecting the scene he concluded that the innocent parrot was stuck and needed help to get out.

He put his hand in the bush at first the reaction of the parrot was a bit hostile, it was scared of him but after a few minutes, the innocent parrot started trusting Mohit. It came into his hand to seek protection and Mohit pulled it out, looked at it for a while and boosted it up in the sky so it could fly away from the danger.

 

What Mohit didn’t consider was that maybe his inspection was incorrect and it was. The baby parrot wasn’t stuck, it was hiding from the dogs because it couldn’t fly yet. As soon as he boosted the bird it tried to fly but it was just too young. It flew in a path that resembled a bell curve and fell on the footpath flat, just where the dogs were.

Mohit realized his mistake and the guilt overtook his body, it overwhelmed him, it froze him. He was looking straight at the baby parrot when the dogs struck their canines in the delicate neck of the parrot and he saw it, he saw life escaping from the bird. He regained the control and threw his stones, this time with the intent to kill. Luckily he failed to kill them, he couldn’t take two deaths on his conscience, not at his age. He only succeeded in shooing away the dogs.

 

Our hero walked towards the dead parrot with his head facing the ground to inspect the condition of the victim. He looked it in its eyes, it looked dead, not asleep but dead. There was no blood the parrot had a broken neck and some holes pierced in as well.

 

He looked at it for a while and went straight to market and then home. He tried to look for the parrot on his way back but the dogs had it now. He was filled with guilt but was too young to handle it so he ignored it and went home to resume the rituals of a normal Sunday but this time he switched on the TV and thought about the parrot.

The green parrot. The red parrot. The young parrot.

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