No one took notice of the raven. All day long, it sat on the railings of our veranda. Its been doing so ever since the day my grandfather died. But no one took notice, until 2 years later when it was joined by another raven, on the day my father died.
Without a noise, without a flap of those jet black wings, they watched. Not any one of my remaining family could escape the feel of those heavy, hollow gaze upon our shoulders. Like the gaze of a dead man’s eyes. Focused onto infinity, yet pointing at us; Projecting their story, yet confusing to read it out.
Somewhere deep within my young mind, sprits and souls buried in the spiels told by an old gypsy were ressuructing from the tombs of forgetfulness.
Then they revolted.
They swooped from high above and hit hard on the large window panes of our house. They beaked and tore the cushions of the couch in the veranda. “Mad crows”! everyone thought. Gave them poisioned fruits and meat which they cleverly pushed away. Other crows ate those and died,but these two..were they behaving like frolicking children demanding attention? I now believe that they were more like wise elders warning their progeny of the imminent crisis.
Within days of these attacks, a row broke out and the once blitheful joint family was taking the wrath of an unknown curse. Gradually, the family shattered into countless pieces of emotional islands.
One has to endure a lot of pain to long for a homecoming.
I’ve been yearning to come back to my home. I’ve been yearning for two decades now. There was a ferine calling deep within me which eventually brought me back home. My home; where I spent my golden childhood, now lay forlorn and lifeless. I walked around the house, cheking things and planning maintenance. I climbed the concrete stairs to the terrace. Dried leaves were crumbling under my feet, wailing about a long lost glory. I could feel those warm memories of a life I had here. They were dancing behind my ears; making fun of the pitiable present upon which i am pushing my life through.
My lungs began to fill up with molten lead. I choked. My nostrils tightened. My eyes swelled. I would have cried like a new born if I had not drawn up a cigerette and took a few puffs from it. Suddenly my eyes struck on two black spots through the plumes of my cigerette. I was being watched…;were they the same old ravens?
A montage of events cascaded into my mind.
The ravens had not quite quit watching over me. I now remember seeing them..through the window of my exam hall; through the rear-view mirror,while on a road trip; on the balcony of my new appartment..
I was not speculating. I was being watched over my entire life. I knelt involuntarily, dry leaves crushed under my weight. This time, I cried like a new born.
Epilogue
People whom we love, when they die, they never really move on to the afterworld as we believe. The bonds of love may be so strong that they always stay close; within and around us; only a realisation away.
The loved one whom we might have lost may already be with you..as a soothing breeze or a luminous moon, a sear friend o a favorite pet. They can be anything, animate or inanimate. For me it sure is the raven.
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