“Did you know,” the messenger croaks slyly as he watches the maid, “she eats some of the meat while cooking?”
That may be her only flaw, but it has led to trouble for her employer, Aunty Ji, who lives alone on the first floor. The sons have abandoned her and never visit, content with a yearly call every Eid. Crows are more family-oriented, yet humans get all the praise. Pathetic.
“Look now, the gentleman on the fourth floor is feeding bread and *bajra to the birds. Stale bread?” the messenger cackled. “Pfft, it would be nice to have some fresh meat occasionally, but those pesky eagles always swoop in first. Curse the talons. Who eats stale bread anyway? At least add some tea so it can be softened.”
The whispering tree of District South towers over the kitchen and bathroom windows of the apartment at Makkah Residency, giving us a glimpse into the lives of the human inhabitants. We are tasked with watching over these despicable humans. You see, each district and town has a select group of pesky humans assigned to a murder of crows. It’s not just for entertainment; it’s an honorable duty for Lord Iblees. Every evening at Maghrib, the murder reports to the warden of the whispering tree.
The warden, such as I, is responsible for witnessing all secrets that pass through its roots and into the depths of hell. It’s a direct line to Lord Iblees- a long way down, but whispers travel fast.
“The couple on the third floor are always fighting,” the messenger pointed its beak towards the heated individuals. “They are constantly thirsty for more; nothing is ever enough for humans!”
Aah, good. It makes our job easy. When the man misplaced his watch and blamed his wife, she was already on the verge of a breakdown. She tries to be a good housewife, but he treats her like a servant. There was never room for love between them. Talking to the kind man who lives above them makes her smile. Maybe we can add some trouble there? Her husband’s missing watch was just the final straw, which will surely tip them over. The watch? We plucked it from the bathroom as an offering. It now lies in the burrow under the tree with a ruby ring. Our Lord loves a Rolex; it’s timeless, like him.
Humans think they know everything; they’re entitled because they have been bestowed with the title *Ashraful Makhluqat. Silly of them to believe they are above all. They just have extra mush up there which they don’t even use all of it — such a waste. We are cleverer. Crows should have gotten something extra, like a bigger size, to keep the eagles at bay. Teeth would have been useful, too.
“Oopsie! Aunty Ji on the first floor caught the maid stealing meat. She’s done for now. I wonder what else she’s taken.” Another messenger joined in the gossip and joy.
That ring that went missing last month, perhaps? The yelling and quarreling that ensues is murder music. There is so much chaos we cause and immense pleasure it brings. Ah, loathsome humans, so clueless. They even reach out to feed the very creature that wants to claim their soul.
“Halt all activities, no more murdering for a month,” a whisper echoes from the tree, interrupting the entertainment.
“What? Why?” the messengers croak in united annoyance.
“Ramadan is here,” the whisper quivers with disgust.
Words no murder wants to hear. A month-long break from havoc duties will be dull. Oh well, at least there will be sadka meat for minor indulgences.
See you on Eid, humans. The rest of the year belongs to us for retribution and reckoning. Ha!
*Bajra – Bajra is the Indian word for pearl millet.
*Ashraful Makhluqat – Ashraful Makhluqat is an Arabic phrase that translates to “the noblest of all creatures”.