it became my pigeon..

' lost my card at the Library and invited unnecessary trouble for myself. And then sat down dejected, grumpily, on a bench in a well-littered and empty plaza. A pigeon ambled up and perched itself on its one leg on the table in front of me. It looked equally weak and down; feathers ruffled hither and thither, those beady eyes silently trained in what I thought was my direction. It stood that way for about 10 seconds or so. I began to wonder if it knew of a sort of a balance of power it had against me. I wanted it to stay that way longer ..I thought of the warmth it brought to me in such disagreeable state of affairs. Looking at it, I remembered how you felt when you held a bird's body in your hand..like a new born baby..you weren't sure where really should you have held it from, how tight or loose your grip should be, lest it was too hard on such a softly throbbing peice of life, even as you enjoyed that strange sense of relatedness to its pounding heart. Suddenly, I felt nice that I left eating meat some years ago.
By this time, my pigeon had a call from its family. My thoughts were now far away from a sore jaw and soured mood. But then, tell me, this was the second disabled pigeon I saw; Are there really many around in London ?