Author’s note: This post is based on a real incident…well, more or less. I was looking out of the window and witnessed what looked like a clear case of eve-teasing. I am just trying to look at it from the victim’s perspective.
Jeez! How many times do I have to say ‘No’ for someone to understand it? Here I am pecking quietly on the tin shed, eating the grains supplied by the human working below, when this jerk flies down and lands close to me.
So, I think, “Oh! He wants to share”. I move aside and make space for him.
And what does he do? He scoots closer…so close, I can smell the enticing smell of peppermint leaves on his breath.
So, I move further away. And his trots closer.
Sheesh! I jump on the closest low wall, and he follows like he is stitched to my shadow.
I run on the wall, and he follows calling after me, “Hey! Wait up. You are too fast! I can’t keep up!”
I am like, “Dude! That is precisely the point. I don’t want you to keep up with me.”
And he’s like, “Huh?” And he flies and lands too close yet again.
What the heck! Can’t he just go and eat some wheat grains, groom his feathers or sleep on a rooftop somewhere else…far, far away? I can’t be caught talking to him. I’ll be a laughingstock for a lifetime! So, I take flight this time. And he stupidly chases me in the air!
Can’t he see I am not interested? There are better things to do in life than date a stupid pigeon who goes by the name “Rapunzel”! I mean, what woman would ever want to date a guy named Rapunzel!?
I don’t want to be mean, but he leaves me no choice. So, I sit down on a stone archway to the next-door temple and say what sounds like the greatest cuss words ever known to the pigeon-kind, “Rapunzel! Go away!”
He sits a little farther this time, “Not you too! I am NOT Rapunzel!”
“What do you think I am–a chick-just-hatched? I have heard that human girl call you ‘Rapunzel’ at least a dozen times.”
“How do you know that? Have you been keeping tabs on me?” He asks, looking smug.
“I am not keeping tabs on you,” I hope I am not blushing like stupid human girls. “I live here. I hear things.”
“Well, then you know that she calls all pigeons ‘Rapunzel’.”
“Liar!”
“Well, I am a bit wrong there. If you sit on her windowsill in a group, she will probably call you Rapunzel and the rest of the group will be Ella, Snow White, Elsa, Bella and other Disney princesses in that exact order. She can’t tell that some of us are Prince Charming!”
I am intrigued now, “Are you ‘Prince Charming’ then? I mean, it is nearly just as bad!”
“Ugh! No! I don’t have a name. You can just call me ‘Hulk’!”
Eww! “I think, I’ll pass.”
“So, will you come out with me? I know a really cool place with loads of fresh grain and an amazing view of the river,” he says as he carefully moves closer to me on the top of the stone archway, looking a little unsure of himself this time.
Good! I like him better when he is not being haughty…
I mean, I don’t really like him like that…
Well, at least not yet…
Sigh! Who am I kidding? I have been keeping tabs on him…
Still, I roll my eyes, trying to play hard to get, “You really don’t know when to give up!”
He has probably sensed I am giving up, because he stands up a little taller, “I know exactly when to give up, which is why I am not giving up on you yet.” He tilts his face to a side inquisitively, which makes his neck shine in a multitude of colours. “So, are you coming with me before all the fresh grain is gone?”
“Well, lead the way. I will probably dump you after we have eaten anyway, Rapunzel!” He rolls his eyes and smiles, and we take off to the nearest fields I have already visited alone this morning.
I know it will be better with him by my side, smelling minty and looking like Prince Charming. But I am not telling him that. At least, not yet!
Author’s note again: To learn more about how my daughter named Rapunzel (poor dear), you can go through my other posts here: Meet Rapunzel and Rapunzel 2.0