Showkat
06-17-2013, 10:24 AM
I learnt the lesson hard way by killing one accidently
The boys of my age, below and above of my age had grown strange kind of habits. Being children we would spend most of our days in playing. At evenings we would play militant-army game in which quarrels would erupt. We would play other games like hide and seek, kho-kho, cricket etc. Some boys would play with chicks, kittens and also with cockerels. There were many boys in the street who were very callous and cruel. They would spend their whole days in chasing dogs, canning them and hurting their limbs deriving a strange kind of pleasure out of that. I was prevented in doing so by my father. He would get angry if found me chasing a dog with a stick or a stone. ‘They have been made for mankind and a man is bound to look after them not to hurt them. Don’t follow the other rough boys of the street in the wicked job, my father always advised me .
It seemed to me that my father loved all sorts of animals even the rats. This attitude of our father towards the animals filled our hearts with love and sympathy for animals especially for dogs which were canned and hurt not only by the children but also some adults were taking part in the mean job.
Being weak at heart I rarely played with animals and birds. But some boys who were strong at heart would get hold of any **** or hen and would throw them into the brook and would enjoy watching them swimming over the water. I would also enjoy that scene. In the heart of my hearts I too wanted to play with the cockerels. But I was weak at heart and was scared of them. I was afraid even to touch them, because they sometimes pecked the hands of their holders. But I enjoyed watching it on the bank of the stream.
On one Sunday afternoon after having my lunch I went out from my home to play with the boys. But there was none in the street. They had gone to steal the apples in the orchards. I was alone and had no company. I went to the street to dive into its pure waters. The bank was deserted and there was none except a weak chicken who had fallen sick. The chicken had put its beak in its feathers. I shooed it in order to get the sense of its strength. I went near the chicken but it didn’t move. I tried to scare it, but it moved only a few inches. It was clear to me that the chicken which was about 1 or 2 months old was suffering from plague. The chicken belonged to our neighbor. The impulse of playing with the chicken, throwing it into the water and watching it swimming over the water overpowered my heart. Though I was scared of catching them but that chicken was ill and could not peck. I went near the chicken again, tried to scare it in order to check its strength, but it again moved only few inches. I gave it a light kick but it didn’t run. I knelt and held it between my hands. It gave no loud cry. It was just snoring as if it was suffering from cold. But it was a chance for me to play with the chicken. I threw it into the water. It returned, swimming with its head hanged towards the right side. I again caught it and threw it into the water. But the chicken struggled, managed to swim and returned. I found that the ill chicken is losing its strength and is completely exhausted. But the fun of watching it swimming made me callous. For the fourth time when I threw it into the water it started to return. But as it crossed some 4 or 5 inches it started to float over the water. I found that the chick was no more swimming but floating. I sensed that the chicken was dead. My heart started to throb. I threw some pebbles at it in order to see whether the chicken was alive or dead. I came to the conclusion that the chicken has died. I was terrified at my brutal act. I killed a weak and ill chick. It gave a pain to my heart. I was about to cry over the cold- blooded murder which I committed. But that was the time for me to run away from the spot. I saw all-around and there was none except an old ragged ***** slept. Finding the chance I ran away from the spot. Whole night I thought about the chick and its tragic death with my own hands. I buried the incident deep into my heart and didn’t disclose that to anybody.
Next day the neighbors found the chick’s body on the bank of the stream and they thought it was the natural death. They were aware about the chick’s disease.
The boys of my age, below and above of my age had grown strange kind of habits. Being children we would spend most of our days in playing. At evenings we would play militant-army game in which quarrels would erupt. We would play other games like hide and seek, kho-kho, cricket etc. Some boys would play with chicks, kittens and also with cockerels. There were many boys in the street who were very callous and cruel. They would spend their whole days in chasing dogs, canning them and hurting their limbs deriving a strange kind of pleasure out of that. I was prevented in doing so by my father. He would get angry if found me chasing a dog with a stick or a stone. ‘They have been made for mankind and a man is bound to look after them not to hurt them. Don’t follow the other rough boys of the street in the wicked job, my father always advised me .
It seemed to me that my father loved all sorts of animals even the rats. This attitude of our father towards the animals filled our hearts with love and sympathy for animals especially for dogs which were canned and hurt not only by the children but also some adults were taking part in the mean job.
Being weak at heart I rarely played with animals and birds. But some boys who were strong at heart would get hold of any **** or hen and would throw them into the brook and would enjoy watching them swimming over the water. I would also enjoy that scene. In the heart of my hearts I too wanted to play with the cockerels. But I was weak at heart and was scared of them. I was afraid even to touch them, because they sometimes pecked the hands of their holders. But I enjoyed watching it on the bank of the stream.
On one Sunday afternoon after having my lunch I went out from my home to play with the boys. But there was none in the street. They had gone to steal the apples in the orchards. I was alone and had no company. I went to the street to dive into its pure waters. The bank was deserted and there was none except a weak chicken who had fallen sick. The chicken had put its beak in its feathers. I shooed it in order to get the sense of its strength. I went near the chicken but it didn’t move. I tried to scare it, but it moved only a few inches. It was clear to me that the chicken which was about 1 or 2 months old was suffering from plague. The chicken belonged to our neighbor. The impulse of playing with the chicken, throwing it into the water and watching it swimming over the water overpowered my heart. Though I was scared of catching them but that chicken was ill and could not peck. I went near the chicken again, tried to scare it in order to check its strength, but it again moved only few inches. I gave it a light kick but it didn’t run. I knelt and held it between my hands. It gave no loud cry. It was just snoring as if it was suffering from cold. But it was a chance for me to play with the chicken. I threw it into the water. It returned, swimming with its head hanged towards the right side. I again caught it and threw it into the water. But the chicken struggled, managed to swim and returned. I found that the ill chicken is losing its strength and is completely exhausted. But the fun of watching it swimming made me callous. For the fourth time when I threw it into the water it started to return. But as it crossed some 4 or 5 inches it started to float over the water. I found that the chick was no more swimming but floating. I sensed that the chicken was dead. My heart started to throb. I threw some pebbles at it in order to see whether the chicken was alive or dead. I came to the conclusion that the chicken has died. I was terrified at my brutal act. I killed a weak and ill chick. It gave a pain to my heart. I was about to cry over the cold- blooded murder which I committed. But that was the time for me to run away from the spot. I saw all-around and there was none except an old ragged ***** slept. Finding the chance I ran away from the spot. Whole night I thought about the chick and its tragic death with my own hands. I buried the incident deep into my heart and didn’t disclose that to anybody.
Next day the neighbors found the chick’s body on the bank of the stream and they thought it was the natural death. They were aware about the chick’s disease.