Most afternoons, when a gentle breeze sways the curtains, and the sun shines high above, I have company.
Pigeons visit my balcony, and sit on the railings. If the house is quiet, and I remain perfectly still, the pigeons sometimes brave it into the living room, walk around, and then disappear in a flutter of wings.
This afternoon, there is a pigeon on the railing. He looks at me, and seems to peer into the living room.
Image courtesy – Wikipedia
I try to guess what he sees. Does he see the laptop on my table, and wonder what that strange noise of typing is? Does he see the bits of furniture we have lovingly collected – beautiful bits of wood that once stood as majestic trees.
Does he see the porcelain birds on my TV console? What does he make of them? Does he wonder why they remain static?
Does he hear the music that is playing on my laptop? Does it sound anything like the song birds he knows?
What does he make of the huge coffee mug, from which wisps of steam are rising up and vanishing? Does he think about evaporation, about the sun’s heat and about all the water bodies that are drying up ?
When he sees the rotating fan, does he compare it to the wind whipping through the trees, and the joy he feels when he swoops down on a sunny day!
Does he see the water jug? Does he wonder why the water is contained?
I smile, and watch him. He looks wise, as he ponders over the mysteries of my home. I look at my home through new eyes.
He hangs on for some more time, and then flies away. He joins two other pigeon friends on a neighbour’s window ledge.
As I head back in, I wonder if he is sharing his thoughts with his friends.