Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

By Hrishit Pandey

It was a dark night. Cold. Bleak. Dead night. But here I am - by nature a lively and energetic rooster. Running down the street. Like a mad animal. Where is my boy? I wondered as I traced down the restricted pathways. My son - he has not been home today. His mother is stressed about her boy. I am not stressed. The night and its attributes tried their best to reflect into me their effects. But I won’t be affected as an excess of liveliness is contained within me. The roads were filled with water. It was difficult to run. Still I persisted through the dark under maintained roads.

“Hey Boy! My sweetie.” I shouted with all my lungs could hold. Any human would have misjudged me as a hysteric rooster. But I don’t blame them. How can they know that I am looking for my boy.

Keeping these thoughts aside I entered the main road. In a hurry I did not look right or left. I ran straight to quickly reach the other end. I had crossed half the road when I sensed very bright lights approaching from my right. Those lights illuminated to me - my death. I knew the very moment they were casted upon me; brightness of such intensity exists to dissolve all that lies on the way. I have never been fortunate enough to live in light. It is not but my final act of dishonesty to darkness; by dying under bright light. The car approached me at furious speed. It ran over me as I screeched with all that was left in my lungs - a final cry to reach my son - to let him know that I am no more. I cried.

Cock-a-doodle-doooooo..

End?

That should have been my end. But I don’t understand what happened. I am no longer there in my physical form. But I do exist. My thoughts are more coherent than ever. I can see my speech as subtitles. Not just my voice. There is another voice that I hear. I share these subtitles with him. His are of black color. Mine are white. I think I now exist inside this man. His knowledge has been extended to me. Which is a logical reason of why I know about subtitles, color and just natural ways of human conversation. The man was driving a truck. He looked unbothered but he corrected the rear view mirror while slowing down his speed a little. I saw through his eyes in the mirror - a dead rooster body lying on the ground. That could be me. But was I sure? No. Maybe if I examined close. Maybe then I could have known. But do I care anymore? Not for myself. But I still fear for my son. I had taught him well and good to see before crossing these big roads - yet I myself broke those rules today. I just wish him to remember and follow all that is good for him. If just I could hear his voice once and see that he is safe. That would be my resolution to leave this fine man alone. He doesn’t deserve my conscience inside his head. What wrong has he done? It was me who jolted suddenly. He deserves better.

Then I heard a shrill rooster’s shriek. Followed by many similar shrieks. I used the mirror to look behind. And to my surprise, the truck was carrying a container. It was filled with roosters. They were all crying. Not just a cry, but roosting for help. I looked a little harder. I saw a young rooster among those diverse yet identical crowd. I saw what I feared. I discovered that at the top of the bunch, there lay a rooster - a confident young rooster; with no signs of fear; with bold - revolting eyes, mouth, quiet as a if sealed and a zeal to not bend to oppression. That was my son.

My voice slowly started to fade as it subsided entirely. I fainted.

I woke up. Very abruptly.

The first thing I saw was the man that I was sharing consciousness with. He was looking into a mirror. He had a tired face - a mouth untouched by joy. He was wearing a transparent cap that covered his scalp. His left hand was covered with a glove while his right was bare - as it contained between the fingers something. I couldn’t really understand what it was. Then he bent his back to drop the thing into a bowl containing milk. Then a very cute little kitty came to the bowl as she slowly began to lick the milk. The man lovingly caressed her little head which evidently made her gleam. Somehow it made me a little relieved. A man who cared this much for this animal would certainly love my adorable young boy.

The man gained back his posture. There was a person who just entered his vicinity. He looked towards the door. I understood that I was inside his shop and a customer had entered his shop. It was a young girl. She greeted us with a bright smile. She carried incredible warmth all around her. She greeted us with a hello and then described her order with precision.

“I would like you to give me the best succulent thighs, none of that dry breast please. Choose the bird with the fattest skin around neck, back and thigh. That’s where the flavor lies.”

I don’t understand. What exactly is she demanding? But my man replied with evident happiness - “As you order, miss.” He turned to the left. There was a cage. It was filled with roosters. They all seemed to be sleeping, or were they just unconscious?

My hand entered the cage as it picked my son from the top right corner. My son had been lying peacefully until then. He still stayed motionless as he was carried mid air onto the main table. There was a big knife just beside where he kept my boy.

My boy. He had the bold, confident look of defiance. It was quiet with no expressions but his silence communicated everything to me. My boy. Leave my boy alone. You took away my life. I still revoked all moral convictions off of you. Yet here you are picking up on my sleeping son. Don’t you have children?

Following this, his memories were flashed to me. He had children. Five of them. All very thin, malnourished and helpless. The lady in front, came up close to examine the bird as it was taking in his final breaths. She was satisfied with the way my son presented himself. I absolutely despised every food that I had given to him until now. Maybe if I had deprived him off that - he would have escaped this woman’s lunch lavishes. She approved of the rooster and asked me how much price for the meat?

I couldn’t believe the words I uttered. INR @250 per kg. I now understand how finances work for humans. But just 250 for my son? And that gives you the right to kill him. Not just kill but eat him as well? Just for your afternoon delights!

But the worst thing was that I could understand the man. All he cared about were his children and he was extremely happy because of the customer’s order.

As I slowly grabbed the knife, I started to remember all the worms, beetles and grasshoppers I have eaten. All the helpless lives I have taken. I was the victor then, feeding on my helpless victims. And my son is the victim here now. Now it all started to make sense. I cannot blame the man. He is in a state just like I was in. He needs us for survival. He and those of his kind kill and eat us because they don’t understand us. I killed and ate others because I didn’t understand them.

I believe I am the only one who has gone through this conundrum because I understand how humans live, I know how I used to live. Under no logical convictions can I blame the man anymore. And yet he is killing my son in front of me. Infact since I am inside him - I am killing my own son right now.

What is right and what is not - carried no philosophical meaning anymore. All the reasoning and all the logic died with a sharp cut as it tore apart my boy. A rooster’s blood has no value at all, just like there is no value for an earthworm.

I hope the humans also come across similar crossroads. I cannot be the only living conscience who understands both the oppressed and the oppressor.

By Hrishit Pandey