Right on board

There are certain trivial things which are not clearly defined or the rules not spelt out without an iota of doubt. Take for example the Bus and who closes the door. Precedence has it that the last person who boards is the one mostly closing the door as the conductor will be usually busy elsewhere. The sound of the door closing is the cue for the conductor to give the bell. But the ‘last person’ concept is liable to be misconstrued and there is always room for manoeuverability. This is what happened when I became that ‘last person’ one day.
As i was getting on the footboard and pulling the door to a close with some effort I saw a man running from a distance waving his hand. Catching the bus is his intention and is putting in some serious effort for that cause. In that split second or two I felt omnipotent as if this man’s fate lay in my hands. I can close the door and let his considerable physical efforts go to waste or I can wait. Without any hesitance I made my peace with the former choice. The door closed, the bell rang, I was human again and the bus was set in motion in total conformity with Newton’s first law of motion. To add insult to injury I may have even issued a cursory glance at the unassuming stranger through the corner of my eye as the bus passed him. Then as I asked for my ticket I realised I have boarded the wrong bus. Karma is a bitch!.

One flew into the net

Every day (well,not every day) you learn something about yourself. For me yesterday was one such day where I realised I might have a small case of ornithophobia (the fear of birds). The realisation came to me courtesy of an unsuspecting pigeon. It got trapped in the netting in our balcony. For a brief moment when I first saw it entangled in the net I thought of taking a photo and tweeting with the hashtag  #Pigeondoingyoga. I tried fidgeting with the net to let it free but could not bring myself to touch its claws which was hopelessly entwined in the net.

After a rescue operation spanning around twenty minutes with reinforcements called in in the form of an helping neighbour, a frantic search for scissors ( Nope, this was not the bird version of 127 hours, the scissors was for cutting the net) the bird was finally free.

Then it got me thinking. Why didn’t the other pigeons come and help him out? There are always pigeons around and I guess they even outnumber the members in our Residents’ Association. May be they don’t have a Good Samaritan law and fear harassment if they rescue him. Or maybe they thought he should learn a lesson. Wait, may be they thought I should learn a lesson.

The pigeon was young,may be a rebellious teenager. From the way he got entangled I guess he was over-speeding too, perhaps after an heated argument with his parents. Anyway now that I have rescued him ( to be accurate, made the necessary arrangements for him to be rescued ) I feel like I will be responsible for all the life decisions he will make henceforth.What if he starts doing drugs and drops out of school?. I know pigeons don’t  have school. But there might be some place where they learn all the stuff that make them pigeony like building nests at every ventilation and window sills, making that annoying noise without rest, crapping in intricate patterns on everything man-made and so on. Hopefully he has learnt his lesson and gets his act together.

Or may be he will break bad and go on to become a drug empire king-pin. ( Drug here is anything that will get pigeons high. I am not judging).