The return of the 'white angel' to the food table

You must make it a point to do one good deed a day", my father advised me when I was a child. At another time, my mother told me that one must feed ants, birds and animals. Such acts, she said, make God happy and He rewards the do-gooder.

I took this parental advice to heart and implemented it whenever and wherever possible. Due to the constraints of daily routine, I decided on feeding birds. That was easier to do and would earn me the silent blessings of more than one bird in one go, I said to myself.

So every morning at about nine I would throw two or three fistfuls of millet seeds or birdfeed out of my window on the terrace. That attracted many sparrows and doves. The birds would appear from nowhere and descend with great alacrity.

One morning I discovered to my pleasant surprise that the group had been joined by a white pigeon which had feathers growing at its claws. While moving, the pigeon looked like it was sweeping the floor with its broom-like feathers. It also had a small tuft flowing backwards on its head. The milky white bird was so beautiful that I fell in love with it. Somehow, I felt that the regular visit by this harbinger of peace to us was a good omen.

The pigeon was a pet and came from the roof of a neighbour who owned a flock. Day after day, this white pigeon landed without fail. Evidently, it broke away quietly from the flock during flight without giving to other members of the group any inkling of its intention. This was clear from the fact that only this pigeon was a regular visitor. No other bird of its ilk ever came.

I am not a birdwatcher in the strictest sense of the term, yet the sight aroused interest in me. I regularly observed their behaviour and their struggle for survival. I noticed that guided by nature's clock, this group, consisting of one white pigeon, half a dozen doves and sparrows would land on the parapets enclosing our terrace at almost exactly 9am.

They would patiently wait for the feed and occasionally look at us through the window as if to remind that they had arrived and I was getting late. That gave me a strange feeling of happiness mixed with a sense of satisfaction.

As soon as I threw the feed towards the birds, all of them started picking it up. But as it ran out, the birds competed to get as much as possible - survival of the fittest in its true form, you know! In this game, the bigger birds would shoo away the small ones - just as we humans do. The struggle continued as I watched them from my window.

Over a period we - I mean the birds and myself - forged a strong bond. Every morning, while looking out of the window, the first thought that came to my mind was of them. I was sure the birds were thinking likewise of me - and waiting for their 'clock' to strike nine.

One morning I was a bit late. I was upset to notice the white pigeon was absent. I wondered whether it was annoyed with me - like any pampered child? While pondering it, I tossed the feed on the terrace as usual.

My despondency turned to joy upon seeing my favourite - the scavenger pigeon - swooping down from some hidden spot on the terrace. Was it teasing me or protesting the delay - again, like some of our own children seeking greater attention? Well, whatever it was, our friendship blossomed further. Our mutual love was watched enviously by our neighbour.

Eventually we had to leave the country for about two months. We had bolted the window. While on vacation, I happened to ring up my neighbour for some reason when I casually inquired about the birds. I was astounded to hear that in our absence, the group was coming as usual. The birds eagerly looked for us, waited for some time for the feed and then flew away disappointed.

I was speechless and overcome by a sense of guilt. I felt like flying back immediately to resume the good deed I had decided to do every day. But that was not feasible. I spent the rest of the vacation in penitence. On return, I resumed the good deed. There was no response for a couple of days, and then only the doves returned. I was sad. The next day, my white feathered friend descended from the sky like an angel. My 'love' had returned.

The writer is a journalist based in India.