a pigeon love story

piWant to introduce you all to CHINTU and CHINKI. No not the ones you see on T.V. These are my own Chintu and Chinki and have a love story of their own. They entered my life quite suddenly, landing on my tiny kitchen balcony(which is also my dish-washing area) one warm summer afternoon and announced their arrival with the crashing of my pots and pans being kicked around as Chintu tried with all his might to woo Chinki. He puffed out his chest and strutted around showing off his power(are males in all species same or what??) and his ability to provide a coveted and safe living quarters for his mate. He finally managed to win Chinki over and they embarked upon a new life together. As you must have guessed by now..Chintu and Chinki are a pair of grey pigeons and that day they made my balcony their home.

I hadn’t christened them as yet, in fact was annoyed by their presence. They dirtied my space with their poo-poos and with the constant stream of twigs, leaves and other building material that they brought in to create their dream home. If a cupboard door in the balcony was left open by mistake it would immediately be taken over and nest building activity would start promptly. If the door connecting my kitchen to the balcony was left open long enough they would waddle in fearlessly, fly onto the counter-top or on the refrigerator and inspect my kitchen thoroughly, sending me rushing madly after them. All my efforts to evacuate them from my property failed and they continued coochi-cooing like Romeo and Juliet on the balcony.

But what got to me was their perseverance. Day after day the nest they built would be thrown away by a family member or house-help and everyday they would start again with no thought of giving up ever. They waddled into my heart just as they did in my kitchen. I christened them. And I no longer shoo them away. I try to talk to them now and I think they’ve also understood that they have a friend in me. But no, they are still not allowed to build their nest simply because of the odd places they choose to do so. One time it’s right on the drain-cover another time in the tub and once even in a pan left overnight to be washed the next day

At the time of publishing this, they were still at it. My pots and pans are still crashing around, the place is still dirty but they have now occupied my heart and we have our own love story.


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