Anasagar – The Watery Grave

“Caw... caw... caw! How terrible!”

“Yes! It looks beautifully green but actually it’s terrible. It’s poisonous,” Mr. Parrot dressed in a green coat, nodded in agreement.

“My family has lived here for years. We have scavenged on the leftovers of humans in the gardens but never have seven generations seen such a grotesque sight,” cawed Mr. Crow shaking his head disapprovingly. 

“What are you both discussing?” asked Mr. Owl and yawned. 

“Good evening Mr. Owl.”

“A very good evening to the both of you. What are you talking about? You know I sleep all day. What have I missed?” Mr. Owl enquired stretching his wings and flapping them soundlessly. “I’ve only just woken up.”

“Mr. Owl... it’s something that we’ve been talking about every day and every night since the last six months,” Mr. Crow said. 

“And that is?” Mr. Owl looked at him over his spectacles. 

“The lake!” replied Mr. Parrot. 

“You mean this stretch of water in front of us,” Mr. Owl spread out a wing and pointed to the green expanse before the tree they sat in. 

“Yes!” said the other two in unison. 

Mr. Owl gave a loud hoot of laughter, “My good fellows... This isn’t a lake.” 

“It isn’t a lake?” queried Mr. Parrot in surprise. 

“What do you mean, Mr. Owl? Seven generations of my family have lived here in this garden. My father used to tell me that his father and grandfather had told him that Anaji Chauhan the grandfather of Prithviraj Chauhan had built this lake before 1150 AD. Ours is a noble family that has resided in these grounds since ages. The story has been passed down from generation to generation. And... these marble pillars you see were erected by none other than Shah Jahan in 1637 and these gardens known as Daulat Bagh were laid out by Jehangir.” Mr. Crow retaliated loudly. 

“Hello... Hello... Hello... What’s the noise about sweet friends?” crooned Mr. Peacock. He jumped on to the raised platform around the ancient banyan tree which was the home to numerous creatures, big and small. 

“Hello Mr. Peacock!” called the other three. 

“Surely, there’s nothing to disagree about so vehemently. Now, is there?” Mr. Peacock strutted about, tilted his crowned head to look up with disdain. 

“Of course there is! Why else would we converse so late into the night?” Mr. Crow said turning his nose up. 

“Converse? My ugly foot! You were literally going to come to blows,” Mr. Peacock said rudely. He then looked down at his feet and wailed, “Minh-aao... Minh-aao!”

“Did-you? Did-you-do-it? Did-you-do-it?” screamed the noisy jungle babblers in the quietude. 

“Did we do what?” questioned Mr. Parrot in exasperation. 

“Come to blows! Did-you-do-it? Did-you-do-it? Did-you?” shouted the seven sisters louder than ever. 

“Oh hush! What a racket!” screeched Mr. Bat from his upside down perch. “What’s wrong with all of you?”

“What’s ever right with them?” hooted Mr. Owl softly. 

“Excuse me! What do you mean?” retorted Mr. Crow. 

“Nothing... except that you’re not willing to accept that this stretch of water isn’t a lake,” Mr. Owl said calmly adjusting his spectacles. 

“And, why would you say that, Mr. Owl, I pray?” asked Mr. Bat yawning loudly which ended in a screech. 

“Ouch! That was quite a jarring sound,” Mr. Peacock said covering his ears. 

“Never you mind! I’m more interested to know why Mr. Owl insists on calling this thirteen kilometres of watery expanse a stretch of water and not a lake,” Mr. Bat peered at Mr. Owl in the dark. “I can’t see his point.”

“Forget seeing my point, I bet you can’t see my face or even my beak. Will you ever be able to speak to any of our faces instead of our feet?” Mr. Owl said in his soft throaty voice. “You make me feel giddy by hanging upside down.”

“Exactly! I feel the same,” grumbled Mr. Peacock adjusting his long majestic tail. 

“Hello! We’re going off the track!” Mr. Crow cawed, clapping loudly to get everyone’s attention. 

“Yes! Mr. Owl you’re considered to be the wise one. Can you please tell us your reasons for disagreeing with us?” queried Mr. Parrot. 

“Ahem... I have a number of reasons,” Mr. Owl said self-importantly. 

“Do you?” asked Mr. Crow scornfully. 

“Did you? Did-you-do-it? Did-you-do-it?” shouted the jungle babblers in unison. 

“Oh shut up! Mr. Crow said ‘Do you’ not ‘Did you’. You keep forgetting to use proper tenses in your sentences. Silly birds! Aren’t you like school children who mix up their grammar?" "Now zip up your beaks!” scolded Mr. Parrot. “Not another word.”

The seven sisters looked at each other, nudged one another, and giggled quietly before falling silent. 

“Well... Mr. Owl you were saying...” prompted Mr. Crow. 

“Yes... so the first reason is, the water is stinking. I’m sure if you all use the nose God has given you, you will know what a stench arises from this unfortunate stretch of water. Secondly, I can’t see any birds or even humans fishing in the so called lake anymore these days. I’m sure Mr. Bat will agree with me that we’ve not managed to get even a single rat. Mr. Peacock has no reason to deny the fact that he too hasn’t caught a single serpent from the waters. Am I right, friends?” Mr. Owl peered over his spectacles at the others. 

“Yes... Yes...” agreed Mr. Peacock and Mr. Bat. 

Mr. Owl nodded with a smile and continued, “The third and the main reason...  The water hyacinth that every human who walks this place talks about has covered the entire lake from end to end. Use your eyes and you will be able to see the so called ‘Jalkumbhi’. Haven’t you seen the empty boats bobbing up and down with no visitors? And, the island is desolate, isn’t it?” 

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not a lake,” argued Mr. Crow.

“Come on! Of course it isn’t a lake. It’s the watery grave where all aquatic life lies buried fourteen feet down under those green leaves,” Mr. Owl rolled his eyes and turned his head 360 degrees in exasperation. 

“Eeeee! Will you please not do that! It’s scary especially, after you’ve spoken of graves!” screeched Mr. Peacock clutching at his heaving chest. “You’ll start off my palpitations. I have a weak heart.” 

“Don’t talk nonsense, Mr. Peacock. We... birds, animals, fishes, and other creatures don’t have souls like humans and that’s another reason they don’t care about us. They kill us and ruin our homes without a thought because we can’t haunt them,” Mr. Owl said. “Don’t you see them every day and night walking along the ‘baradri’, holding handkerchiefs to their nose and grumbling about the stench? But in reality what are they doing to preserve and protect this so called Anasagar?” 

“From the houses I visit I’ve heard people reading newspapers. They say that the authorities have brought in big machines to clear the mess and save the lake,” Mr. Parrot said. “Also, some lawyers have filed PILs, meaning Public Interest Litigations.”

“Really? That’s all? Where’s the progress?” questioned Mr. Owl tapping his foot impatiently. 

“And... And... I’ve heard the youth talking about posting videos and photographs of the lake on various social media accounts. They’ve started hashtag campaigns, whatever those are. They’re asking each other to tag the local authorities and this man... What’s his name... ah... ah... He’s known as the ‘Lake man of India’... Ah yes! Mr. Anand Malligavad – that’s his name!” Mr. Parrot said slapping his thigh.

“Wonderful! But, I don’t want to keep you in the dark. Don’t be delusional; open your eyes to reality. Let me tell you my dear friends... the lake is dead! And, the right thing to do would be to hold our beaks, not talk anymore and observe a minute’s silence for all those creatures who lost their lives, suffocated by the water hyacinth which was allowed to thrive and flourish by the devious lazy lumps called humans,” Mr. Owl said solemnly, taking off his spectacles and rubbing his eyes in vexation. 

“Are you serious?” cawed Mr. Crow in alarm. 

“Of course! Have you ever heard me joking?” Mr. Owl asked raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh dear! This will definitely affect all of us including these humans,” muttered Mr. Parrot as he adjusted the sleeves of his coat. 

“Yes! It will but who’s going to explain that to them. Do they ever listen?” Mr. Owl looked at him with an expression of helplessness. 

“Everyone ready? Let’s keep quiet for a minute and pray,” Mr. Crow said solemnly ruffling his black feathers into order, in the perfect semblance of one in mourning. 

The shuffling of feet and feathers abated, the creatures fell silent for a moment as the crickets tuned their instruments to play the funeral dirge. 

Image courtesy: patrika, mttv, flickr, zee business, clix