Dressed like fairies, they were waiting for the demon to kill them. Usually we wait for our turn, but I am sure they were not. They were actually numb to the surroundings and were just witnessing the sweet slaughter. Moments ago they were caged and now sentenced to death. Like Jews in the Nazi camp they were scared, but had resigned to the fate. If you know that the way you will die is extremely painful and it’s not long left for that, how would you feel? Those were the exact same emotions of the 5 hens standing in the meat shop. Waiting to be transformed into human food.
It was Friday morning. As a proud MBA son of his mother I was getting a royal treatment back home. I was to leave for Chennai in two days. My mother was confused, deciding the food items she’ll cook for me before leaving. I was not used to being treated such royally at home. I guess I was the lucky dog and my day was Friday. The delicacies being cooked for me were all from the top drawer. Chicken and Bheja fry was the delicacy of the day. I was asked to procure the raw material. In the month of May, going out in Indore heat is worth only for home made chicken. The true carnivore was up for the task. Defeating the May heat and Indore traffic, I reached the mutton shop. The butcher was frustrated and busy counting his chickens. Chickens, which were hatched and ready to be slaughtered.
There were five of them alive and at least fifty murdered and rest of them caged. I ordered for a 1.25 kg bird. He opened the cage door. Repulsive to the barbaric clutch they all ran away from the exit. It was all but useless. The butcher had sealed the fate of a poor soul and he was going to get that anyways. She seemed to be fleshiest among them all and also the unluckiest. Before she could shed her cluelessness over why she was chosen she found herself upside down. The demon was holding her firmly by the legs. The authority of the murderer was appreciated by the audience, not with words but with gestures. The victim was witnessing this all but upside down. In a moment she was thrown on the weighing scale. “Yeh dedh kilo ho rhiya hai”, announced the butcher in the typical Indori accent. The bird weighs 1.5 kg is what he said. The extra .5 kg brought a 50% larger smile on the carnivore’s face. But smile was not the only emotion he was going through. There was a mixture of emotions. For a moment I felt that stop, don’t kill the poor bird. I felt like walking out of the store full of blood feathers and the death stench. The battle of good and evil had begun. Good was taking over exponentially. The bad was facing a defeat. For the rescue came the executioner. Before good could do any further damage, bad had got its back up force. The executioner had carried out the execution. He beheaded the chicken. Watching a headless chicken has always been fun, but this time it was different. What was worth noticing was the reaction of those still alive. They were inches close to death, still apathetic to the surroundings. They were not praying neither were they cursing their fate. They were just watching it like a TV show, may be unaware that they were the next to feature. While the blood drained out of the chicken, the executioner picked up another. Chopped off the feet and ripped of the feathers. Like a naked penis, its flesh was exposed to the world. Then suddenly one of the five could not take it anymore. Seeing the brutal and painful death of the fellow traveler made her not want to travel anymore. Rest of them indifferently brushed off the dust off their white coat. The ladies in white continued watching the episode of ‘How I chopped your Chicken?’. The butcher performed his act with immense proficiency. Headless chicken was no more there. Within moments the chopped pieces of the chicken were put in a plastic bag and handed over to me. The battle of good and bad had begun. The vegan clips of animals cruelty floated in front of my eyes. The sounds of angel descended upon my eardrums like a streak of sunshine on a cloudy morning. I said to myself, “Kiti waeet karto apan” (Marathi) i.e. we are so cruel to these creatures (contextually translated). Witnessing the brutal death of an innocent creature had awakened the sleeping human in me. It seemed to be the most decisive moment of my life. I decided to walk the Vegan line. I had made up my mind to return the flesh filled plastic bag. The chicken no more looked like food to me. Usually mind controls the body, but when we rise above all worldly feelings, strange things happen. “Aur thoda kaleji bhi”, (Some pieces of liver) I found myself saying to the butcher. The vegan in me vanished like peace from the world. What stayed were some silent candle light processions by high class pseudo saints residing in some prime locations of my heart. These protests were as usual feeble and gained nothing more than momentary media hype on the TV screen of my mind. I took the bag, picked up my bike and headed back home. The Chicken Slaughter Show was over. The TV station was now showing the cookery show. The gruesome scenes of the Tarantino movie were forgotten. The carnivore too like the butcher performed his act with immense proficiency. Good bye chicken. I shall sure mourn for you someday when I am drunk. I am sure going to miss you. Don’t blame me and if possible forgive me. I am not evil, I was just hungry.
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