The Peacock
Another (super quick) 100-word story
The Peacock
He’d arrive daily, 4pm, and wait for her. The old lady would enter the side gate to our large backyard, and spread rice and lentils for him. He’d eat, cock his head and fly off. In the monsoon he’d spread his luminous tail, dancing like a pompous king. We let them be. One day the peacock attacked our Okra1 seedlings, then stomped through the cucumber bed. I decided I’d tell the lady to go elsewhere the next day. But the next day, he didn’t show. Nor did she. Someone said she’d passed the night before. How did the peacock know?
Reena Kapoor, 8/4/23
PS. What’s with me and birds? First the 100-word Mynah story, now this and did you ever read my poem on the Koel? Maybe Fridays are for birds ;-)
A little late...but here
My last post was in early April and then all hell broke loose, leading to this weeks long hiatus. India’s slide into Covid’s second wave and the continuing devastation is the reason (see below for how to help India). Despite having been gone longer than the years I lived there, India persists in my heart and will always have the power to derail me. A fe…
we called Okra “lady’s finger” in India!
Animals surely know so much more than they let on.
What a lovely story!