1 A Lost Simcard

Published at yourstoryclub

Internet, for me, has been always in transition stage. Search for a good service provider has been always on. Whenever I walk on the road, my radar starts searching for the bills pasted on the walls of the walkways. It was a busy day in my office. I had a work pending since long in the ICICI bank. I decided to do it during our lunch hour. I crossed the national highway situated in front of my office in Bangalore and reached the ICICI bank. To my delight, I found a makeshift stall of Aircel within the bank premises itself. The post paid 3G offers was very lucrative. The performance of the 3G network as demonstrated by Aircel staff was worthwhile. My driving license and pan card were in my purse, handy for necessary documentation. Finally, I got a post paid simcard and kept it in my pocket and went on to do banking.

Verification department of Aircel was quick. Within two hours of the purchase of simcard, they called me on my mobile to verify my details. I got another call from them confirming that my simcard was activated and ready for use. It was really a busy day indeed. I could not get time to think about the simcard. I kept working till late evening.

Upon reaching home, I wanted to check its performance. I take out the dongle. But, I could not find the simcard in my pocket. I remembered that I kept it in the front pocket of my shirt. It was not there. Then I checked the pocket of my trouser, it was absent. I remember, I have an unusual habit of shuffling the stuff from one pocket to others. So I checked every pocket meticulously. It was not there. I could not find it anywhere. The simcard was actually still intact in its plastic reinforcement which was kept in a small paper packet. It was too small to be kept in a purse. I checked my purse. It was not there too. I finished my inspection but could not locate the simcard. I thought I must have left it in my office and in this way my yet another endeavor for internet ends unsuccessfully. 

It was not only a failed attempt to get good internet service. I lost my simcard. Next day, I went to my office and inspected everywhere. My desk was appearing rather tidy. The dustbin was empty. I thought the housekeeping staff must have thrown it assuming it to be a trash. For a moment, I could not stop blaming the clean-desk-policy of my company. I lost a simcard, it was not a joke. It was already activated. I did not have any details of the simcard; not even its number. I did not have any contact information of the makeshift kiosk from where I purchased it. It was prone to be misused. A sudden restlessness prompted me to visit the ICICI bank premises once again. The makeshift kiosk was not there. I asked the security personnel. They did not have any clue about the Aircel staff. I had no option left. I persuaded myself, the first month bill would solve my problem. I started waiting for the bill patiently.

Time heals all problems. After few days I forgot the incident.

My peace of mind did not last longer. I got the first month bill of the simcard. There was a bill of Rs. 1440. There was no consumption of 3G data. There were almost thousand calls made from that number. Now I had my number with me. I called customer care and blocked my simcard immediately. However, I was afraid! Who used my simcard and how? It could have been used by a criminal or a goon. In this type of situation we are ought to have a bad assumption, always. For that matter, I thought, it could have been used by a terrorist. You never know.
I wanted to confirm who has actually used my simcard. I called on the mobile phone. Oh! It was switched off. I was not sure whether it was blocked from the backend office.

I shared this incident with one of my colleague. He told me to report it to the police. He said that at least I will get due consideration of my pro-activeness in the legal hassle, if at all it would be there. So far, I had no experience of dealing with a police. It was already one month since I lost the simcard. I was afraid for reporting so late. I was worried that police would never consider my genuineness case because it was too late.

I started scanning the bill. There were almost thousand calls made from this number. There was a special number on which calls were made for longer duration, for half an hour and occasionally for 45 minutes also. I thought this person must have been closer to the caller and could give me proper information.

I decided to call back on that number before reporting to police. In response of my hello, the voice of a lady appeared from the other side.

I asked, “Who are you and which place you are staying”.

Lady on the other side kept quiet for a while and then responded, “Don’t make me fool! I know you are the one. ( हम जानते हैँ, आप ऊहे हैँ). Why have you changed your voice. It will not fetch you anything. It has been two days, why did not you call me”.

I was stunned. Humor and pranks do not get value at the time of crisis. I ignored. I decided to call on other number. I chose other most frequently used number.  An elder person picked the call. I was not prepared with my words. I asked, “Do you have anyone in Bangalore. Tell me his name.”

The old man said, “first of all, you called me, introduce yourself”

I said, “I am so and so. I worked for so and so company. I lost my simcard…”

The elderly man cut me short, “this is a wrong number”.

I picked another number. I called on it. I kept explaining what happened to me and what information I wanted.  I failed to get any detail. I called on few other numbers mentioned in bill. None of them considered my genuineness. No one of them listened to me. With every call my impatience was increasing. I was still in my office. My colleagues in the adjacent cubicles were listening to me. They came for the help. They suggested me to pose as a police officer.

Posing a police inspector, I called on the first number again which was used most frequently, I said, “I am calling from electronic city police station. Whose number is this?”

There were two ladies this time. They were laughing. One of them replied, “So, since when you became a Police Inspector. He… he… he… I know you are the one…. he he he… “

I was ashamed, but replied, “See! a mobile phone was stolen and I am calling from a police station. Take it seriously and tell me whether anyone of your relatives are in Bangalore.

“he… he… he… bing…. Brummm…“ Call got disconnected.

Luckily I had a mobile phone app, TrueCaller installed in my mobile phone which can reveal the name from its contact phone number. I checked all numbers available in the bill on TrueCaller. It was originating from Chhapra, Bihar. I remembered, recently, many people from Bihar have been arrested in the connection of terrorist activities. I was getting more tensed.

I called the old man again posing again as a police inspector of electronic city, “please be serious one of the mobile phone was stolen. Please tell me if any one of you is staying in Bangalore. Please tell him to return my simcard… at least”.

Old man replied, “Yes! Mr. Dabloo is staying in Bangalore. He used to call his mother on my number. His mother is staying in my neighbourhood. Oh my God! So he had started doing all these things. He has gone to Bangalore to earn something for his marriage. He informed everyone that he is working as a painter. Did he steal your phone? Anyway, I will inform his mother and I will tell him to call you back”.

Finally, I got the information that I wanted. My simcard was not with a terrorist. I was relaxed. I decided not to mess with the police now. After sometime, I was driving back to my home. I got a call from an unknown number. Bluetooth of my car was on. I picked the call carelessly. A bold and confident voice appeared from the other end, “Yes, sir I am Dabloo. A month back, I found a simcard in ICICI bank premises and started using it. I am getting so many calls from so many people of my village. Why did you call so many people in my village and told them that I have stolen your mobile phone?”

I was never expecting this kind of response. Mr. Dabloo was cheeky and presumptuous. After getting the details of his status quo from the villagers, I thought, he should be humble and mild. He was appearing arrogant. For all the stress I had gone through, I did not want to close the chapter so easily, merely on the phone call. My suffering deserved appropriate reaction. I said, “OK please come to the same bank once again at 12:00 tomorrow, bring the simcard and then we will discuss. Do you know I got a bill of Rs. 1400”. He was purposeful. He immediately disconnected the call.

I could not sleep properly, throughout the night. I kept planning about the worst bashing for him.

Next day exactly at 12:00 I got a call from Dabloo. After a few call to synchronize, I could locate him. He was appearing in his early twenties in a mutilated attire that a painter typically put on. Even before I could start, he started in loud, complaining and conceited voice “What sir! I am a poor painter but I am not a thief. How come you can call to dozens of people of my village and spread the rumour that I am a mobile phone thief. I work hard, do overtime and then earn Rs 500 a day. You spoiled my reputation in my community”. He hurriedly finished his first spell. 

“You keep your Rs.1400/ and please don’t do this mistake once again”, the 24 year Dabloo appended. My plan of bashing him was not working. It  failed miserably. Rather, I was at the receiving end. I came at the back foot and become defensive, yet said, “Then why did you use my simcard to make 1000 calls”.

“So what you will do if you find it at a public place, it is a cool thing anyone can do. Take this 1400 and please don’t do it again with anyone else. Do you know my prospective marriage alliance could break up. My fiancée is so upset? My reputation in my would-be-sasuraal has gone haywire. I found this simcard on the floor near ATM machine in this bank. If I would not have picked it, someone else would have done it. It was lying on a public place. It was your fault, sir”. He was pointing his finger towards the ATM machine where he got the simcard.

Oh! Now I could remember. After the banking, I went to ATM to withdraw some cash on that day. Oh my God! I closed my eyes and realized the shuffling of stuffs that I did while taking out my ATM card. I must have dropped the pouch containing the simcard.

So many questions were popping into my mind. So, none of my call was a waste, really? My each word was given due attention by the villagers? Villagers are typically very sweet. They used to meet each other most often. They know each other personally. Only person from that village staying in Bangalore was Mr. Dabloo. He was engaged and I happened to talk to his fiancée! I also happened to talk to probably the best friend of the fiancée of Mr. Dabloo. I informed them that Dabloo had stolen my mobile phone.  How could his fiancee have withstand the allegation, that too in front of her best friend? Villagers must have discussed this issue. The families envious of Dabloo and his mother, must be making fun of him. How would Dabloo have been managing all this since yesterday, that too, when he really did not steal a phone. I started believing that his cheeky behaviour was legitimate and his arrogance had a sense of genuineness. For me, it was just a simcard and loss of few rupees and a worry whether it was used by a criminal. However my multiple calls to the village would have proven him a mobile phone thief, almost!
I turned more defensive, I said, “Ok take this money back, return my simcard and tell me how can I help you?”

“I don’t bother about anyone else, Sir! But can you please call my fiancée and explain the goof up and tell her that I am not a thief”.

“Yes, I can do that. I can call her. Do you want me to call her now”.

"Yes, sir! you should do it immediately".

With lots of guilt and with intention to clear the mess, I called on the most frequented number. From the other side a feeble voice of the same lady appeared, “Saar! did he return your mobile phone”. A humor was missing this time.

Her voice was shabby and mild. She was seemingly appearing alone. I was embarrassed. Now I could realize that she did not want to let her friend know that her would-be-husband was a thief, a mobile phone thief. Her strange behavior during my first call had a reason, I realized. I kept quiet for a while. I had to reply her question whether he had returned my phone.
“Yes” I explained her, “it was not the mobile phone, merely the simcard!" I explained the whole goof up systematically.

When I finished explaining, the lady on the other side started crying. I could hear her moaning. I handed over the phone to Mr. Dabloo. It was an emotional moment, even for me. He went ahead to an isolated place and talked for a while. He returned back, wiped his eyes and returned my phone. I wanted to talk to him. He ignored my gesture and went away briskly, probably, the reputation of a 24 year old Painter, a daily wage worker was restored with full glory.


0 The beggar

The post retirement life of my Papa is no more the same in Gorakhpur, where he spent 35 years of his life working for Indian Railways. His daily routine has been changed now, of course on a good note. Now he spends on an average two hours in our kitchen garden which is almost four thousand square feet the sufficient enough to keep him busy regularly. The appearance of green plants of cauliflower, cabbage, bringal and reddish gives him more satisfaction than the prospective harvest itself. He tries to have a nap in the afternoon. Lunch time has been advanced to 11:30AM, beyond which he browses different news channels before hitting the bed for a afternoon nap. Most of us overheard from my Mom that it was better when he was regularly going to office blaming to unpredictable and untimely demand for a cup of tea. 

It was 29th of September 2013. Lalu Yadav was already found guilty and quantum of punishment was yet to be announced. Papa was browsing different news channels in search for an analysis of his interests. It was probably 01:00PM and Maa was in other room. My youngest brother having business of video surveillance in Gorakhpur was visiting Bangalore. Thus we all three brothers were in Bangalore. Maa was not anticipating any demand from anyone. 

She was feeling lethargic in her bed room. Someone knocked the main door. Anticipating that Papa would not do it Maa went on to open the door. It was a sixty year old man. He told my mom that he was hungry for last 48 hours. His effort of brining tears in his eyes were of no use as he was too weak to display tears. He asked for a Roti in his feeble voice. Maa and Papa already had finished lunch. Maa told the beggar to wait and went inside the kitchen to see if something was leftover for this beggar. She could find only few Rotis but it was not in good hygienic condition. She prepared a cup of tea and went outside. Papa was completely aloof from the sequence of events. Maa offered him tea and told him to wait. The beggar prayed again, "maalkin I am hungry for last 48 hours, please give me something to eat." Maa assured him to give something to eat and told him to wait further.

Maa was emotionally charged. She decided she will cook for him. She opened the refrigerator. Few slices of Paneer was there. She cooked Paneer-chilli and Kheer. Subsequently she prepared a dozen of Purees. She went outside and gave that begger to eat. My father now observed my Mom taking Puree-Paneer-Kheer combo to outside. When he came out he could see the beggar eating like a feast. Papa looked at the beggar. He gave an impression to Papa that it was not his mistake. Papa responded with a gesture that yes, he knew it was not his mistake and only Maa could do it. Then he went inside and brought water for the beggar.

Beggar ate nicely. He thanked my mom and subsequently to my father. He wished all good things for my parents. There was no blessing which was not recited by him. He moved on contended and satisfied. A dull and lethargic afternoon was already turned into an eventful moments. Afternoon nap was not required to rejuvenate my Papa. He called me and narrated the entire story. It was so satisfying for me. I felt there could not have been better week-end news from my parents. 

After a while I realized something and called my mom and asked her, “Maa, by the way! do you know which cast that person belonged to”. My mom lived always in conservative brahmin society where cast, creed, community are still the bitter realities which has been practiced and maintained religiously. She never had a university education. She replied to me, “बेटा, आखिर ओहो मनुखे छलय ओकरा खुआ के आत्मा तृप्त गेल. आइ धरि एतेक आशीर्वाद किओ नइँ देने होयत: My dear son! he was indeed a human being (humanity was his cast). I am ever satisfied. No one has ever blessed me like him." 

I was speechless.


0 On sparrows in my life

My grandmother died in 1984 when I was 8 years old. She told me once, “If you miss a dinner, a flesh of the size of a sparrow will disappear from your body”. Ours was a big family and she was actually ensuring that I should not sleep without taking dinner in case it is late. On another occasion she told me, “Look! once upon a time, all sparrows were very naughty and therefore the God punished all of them by tying their legs with invisible strings. This is why a sparrow cannot walk. Now they can reach a place only by hopping and jumping.” This was an ultimatum to me to avoid getting too naughty.

Ever since I come across the recent campaign against the diminishing count of sparrows from our neighborhood, I felt, I was lucky enough to see my sense growing with the memories of this bird. Sparrows were ensconced into the life, in the folklores and in the innocence of a child in me to such an extent that removing the collective memories of these birds would score out significant part of my childhood itself. Here is an incident vouching it loudly:

It was probably 1983 when I was 7 years old: as old as my son now. I remember, I was more intimate to my grandmother than my mother, for she was always ready to tolerate my all kinds of nonsense. In my neighborhood there lived a girl probably one year senior to me. She was my buddy, my playmate, my partner and my ex-officio Guru for being one year senior to me.

She used to tell me different real life stories. After witnessing the way a sparrow commute, we used to debate on the unjustness of the God for tying the legs of this little bird with so called invisible string. A kind of philosophy was taking a shape into our mind challenging the verdict of the God. Our ignorance was highly creative and resourceful to revolt against the unjustness of the God. We used to observe the sparrows continuously, for many hours, in isolation and discuss about how cruel a God could turn out to be. Sometime she used to stop me discussing the unjustness of God scaring me that God must be listening it.

However, nothing could stop us seeing the activities of sparrows. We were observing what seniors were ignoring. We used to observe their otherwise aptly designed aerodynamic body, the way they were eating, the kinds of food they were collecting, the challenges their young ones were facing, the way they behave within their folks, in their community, and their sweet voices. Everything was getting recorded into our fertile minds.

Dalaan in our native place was used to be a place for conducting all kinds of male related activities let alone be the routine hosting of political and religious debate. Mostly a Dalaan ought not to have a door in it, psychologically signifying that doors of a Dalaan was always open for a guest: one of many reasons why I feel proud of my culture.

We were on our routine spree of watching this bird playing around us. Then there came a day when we saw one of them bringing a piece of a straw into my Dalaan where the canopy of it was joining to the external nook of the wall. My buddy screamed, “Look! Now sparrow will build their nest into your house”. I observed there was another sparrow doing the same. Both of them were picking straws, long and narrow piece of leaves of the trees (typically of sugarcane leaves). Both of them were working hard. She told me that they were actually wife and husband birds building their own home to lay eggs to have their own family. I was excited and highly hopeful to see the adobe of this tiny birds getting constructed and their family taking a proper shape. My buddy forbade me to give more attention lest those little birds would take it as a sign of danger to abandon that place.

We were secretly observing two sparrows working so hard. Finally the nest took a final shape. Generally birds were not there in day time. However each evening they used to return back. Upon their return to their nest they were making lots of noises. Sometime other sparrows were also hovering around until the darkness. Just before the sunset and few minutes later on sparrows were chirping aloud. Sometime it was annoying to the other members of my family. However, the moment the darkness used to settle down in our neighborhood and before we used to lit our Dalaan, they were assuming a comforting silence until the break of the next day. There were observable difference between the noises they were making in the evening and the same in the morning. While there were competition, quarrel and other chaos in the evening, the morning noises of the sparrows were filled with enthusiasm, songs of invitation and a gust of life. In simple words we did not like the noises in the evening; however, mornings chirping were rejuvenating us in a big way. A curious mind of our childhood was noticing this difference gracefully.

In a day time these two birds were not traceable. Sometime we used to find them picking paddy seeds in our courtyard and occasionally we were finding them playing in dust. We were saying that they were taking bath with dust since they were spreading dust with their wings like water droplets. Sometime they also used to enjoy in leftover water stagnated near my hand pump. However, there were no particular routine followed by them therefore very hard to trace them.

It was the time when keeping an account of the daily activities of the sparrows was order of the day. While the life was prospering inside the nest we more excited to see the real outcome. Our first expectation was to see the eggs coming out. We were extra hopeful for the subsequent incidents i.e. the evolution of chicks. A kind of possessiveness was also ruling our mind to ensure that no one else should come to know about the future family of these birds.

We were not bothered about the elders. It was the other kids in our neighborhood bothering us in a big way. Finally, a day came when we observed that only one of the birds was coming out of the nest. Initially, I thought both of them have a fight and first bird abandoned the nest. However my partner was more experienced. She speculated that the birds already laid eggs. She brought wooden chair, climbed on it and then by the help of side pillars she peeped into the nest. I could hear the vigorous fluttering of the wings in surprise. The sparrow in nest flew away. She screamed! Look! birds have laid so many eggs.

I was curious. She came down and helped me to climb on the chair and encouraged me to stand on it to hold the pillars with my cross folded legs tightly and climb few more steps upward. Finally, I was able to peep into the nest. There were three eggs. They were greenish blue of the color that of a swimming pool. It was bright and glossy. I was astonished and elated. This was the first time I was seeing eggs of a sparrow. The mother sparrow was hovering around us. My partner screamed that the bird is afraid of losing its eggs. She strictly prohibited me to touch them and instructed me to come down immediately. I came down and she pulled me away from the scene. We observed that the sparrow returned back to its nest. We promised to each other that we will never disclose about the eggs to anyone else. We also promised to each other that now we will never climb to see the eggs lest bird will permanently abandon the nest. We could apprehend without explaining it to each other a fun for us would really put three lives on stake.

We were eagerly waiting to see the chicks coming out of the greenish blue eggs. We could see only one sparrow always in the nest, probably the mother sparrow. The father sparrow was coming but very rarely. It was not returning home even in evening. Nothing can replace mother’s selfless love. At this age, I am wondering whether a female by its instinct are only supposed to be responsible for the family. However during those times, I was justifying it with an umbrella of understanding that male are supposed to earn and female are supposed to take care of the family.  I had a concrete reason for it. I was comparing it to my father who was working in city and we were staying in village as per the wish of my grandmother. My father was visiting us once in a month time and so we could see the father sparrow hovering around the nest occasionally.  I could not find it unusual.

On a fine morning, I could see pieces of eggs skull spread on the ground. I rushed to my buddy,she came immediately and concluded that chicks came out of eggs.  We were fervently waiting for this day. Now we could see even mother sparrow hovering most of the time. My buddy climbed on to confirm, yes, there were three chicks. She did not have a trust this time and strictly warn me to climb on. She was afraid of my irresistible enthusiasm to warn me that the moment I will touch the chicks it will die. However, she did not forget to describe how it looked. Only one thing I remember her saying that they were too ugly to have a glance of them. I respected her instruction and never climbed on to them even in isolation.

We could observe, the routine of the mother sparrow was changed. Now father sparrow was not visiting at all. Mother sparrow was not absent from the nest for a long time. We were wondering what those little ones were eating. We started investigating. The mother sparrow was picking soft food grains. We could also see it was going to distant places and bringing something strange in its beak. For few days we kept observing and wondering. Finally we realized that it was the small insects the mother sparrow was hunting for its young one. We compared it to our non-vegetarian food that was appearing very tasty for us. Then finally probably after a fortnight my buddy allowed me to climb and see the chicks.  I climbed to see there were three chicks. They were ugly, budding wings were scarcely present and almost they had a bare body.  Their size was too small compared to full grown sparrow. Their eyes were closed. I was not excited to see them all.

However my buddy told me that all chicks of sparrows are like that. She also assured me that in few days when their wings will grow considerably to hide their body they will look beautiful. She also told me that after few days when they would have wings grown up, the mother sparrow will push the chicks out of the nest force them to learn how to fly and one fine day all of them will abandon the place. The mother sparrow will seek one more marriage alliance to give birth to another set of chicks. I started waiting for that moment. After few days we were able to hear feeble chirping sound of young ones. I could also hear the noises of their activities, especially the quivering of their small wings.

In spite of all the excitement we were worried that after few weeks they will abandon the place.  I was already deeply heartened by the so called unjustness of the God. There was not a single day when we were not discussing about how God had tied the legs of all sparrows with invisible string. I was observing how much hard work that particular sparrow was doing to feed her children, the three little chicks. On a fine morning we decided that we will help the little bird. We decided that we will put some food grain in the nest. I climbed up and put some grains of wheat. After few days we realized that those little young ones could not eat by themselves. Someone needed to feed them. We also speculated that wheat would not have so tasteful for them. Then finally we decided that we will hunt for insects that their mother was bringing for her.

The same day I climbed up again. I could see the wings were almost grown up. It was appearing beautiful. I hold that bird and brought it down. I could see the mother sparrow came from nowhere and started hovering around me. Initially my buddy scared me but she found it too sweet to get away with. We decided collectively that we will hunt for insects and then feed it properly. We went to the paddy field. We wandered on the elevated-grassy-line-of-separation between the paddy fields and found the kinds of insects the mother sparrow was hunting.

When we were alone in the neighboring paddy field one of our other friends saw us. They asked what we were actually doing there. Scared with the potential complain he would do, my partner wanted him to include him in mission sparrow to avoid any kind of disciplinary action against us. Initially that guy agreed however he fled away from there. Kids rivalry was ruling his mind and he had got a wonderful opportunity. On the other hand, we started feeding the bird. It was not in compromising mood and it was not accepting the food we were giving. We tried forcefully opening its mouth and feeding the insects. We were successful in letting it eat few insects. Finally we decided to return.

In the meantime the other guy who saw us went to my home and complained to my grandmother that I had stolen the young one of a sparrow from its nest. We were not speculating this complains and therefore happily returning to our home with the understanding that first thing we would do upon our return is to put the sparrow in its nest. However I could see my grandmother standing near Dalaan with that guy. I put the little sparrow in the pocket of my half paint and hold the right hand of my buddy with my left hand and started walking confidently towards my grandma. The other guy was too vigilant. He screamed, “look! He has put it into his pocket”. My grandma asked me what I was holding in my pocket. In my native place, if elders are given option then they are supposed to rather please the kids of others. My grandma did the same. She pressurized me to display the contents of my pocket. Finding no other option, I took out the sparrow.

My grandma observed that the sparrow was motionless and she screamed at me, “what you did with it. It is dead now.” We all saw it. It was really motionless. Instead of concern my buddy demonstrated a kind of hope. She said, “it is just unconscious. If we let it smell the cow dung, it will immediately wake up”. My grandma started scaring me, “It is a big sin to kill someone. Now God will definitely punish you. Only way you can get rid of the punishment is to behave like a real good boy”. She had something urgent and therefore she left that place. My buddy pulled me towards the cow shed of neighborhood. We went to the heap of cow dung and buried the beak of sparrow in it. We could see the activities in the sparrow. After a while we could see the little bird opening its eyes. We were elated and happy once again.

I reminded my buddy about the potential punishment that the God could award us. We decided to keep back the sparrow in its nest. I dragged the wooden chair from my Dalaan. This time my buddy held it stable. I climbed on it. While clinging with the supporting wooden pillar using my both hands and both legs I started pulling upward. I reached the nest and told my buddy to give me the sparrow. I put the already sick sparrow in its nest where its healthy siblings were trying to hide themselves unsuccessfully. I could see the mother sparrow hovering around us. I came down. The mother sparrow went to its nest. I could hear lots of fluttering, quivering and chirping.

A tender humanity had already given priority to four prospering lives in a beautiful adobe over the lust of humanity itself. My seven years old son has never noticed a sparrow from his conscious mind. If he happens to see it, I will definitely teach him that (a) he should not miss his dinner otherwise a flesh of the size of a sparrow will disappear from the body and (b) God could punish all naughty boys by tying their legs with an invisible strings like he did with the naughty sparrows.