Carry on Carrion

A Vulture sat with a bad taste in his mouth. He’d picked it up from a dead buffalo

down at the slaughterhouse. The thought must have troubled the buffalo for

quite a while for it to have permeated through to its liver. For it was the liver

that the Vulture had feasted on for Brunch. Buffalos are anyway given to long periods of contemplation. They’ll chance

upon a newly grown thought and then chew on it for an eternity. That’s why

they are considered the thinkers of the four-legged kingdom. And since the languages of flyers differ from that of non-fliers, the Vulture was

only able to make out that the thought was a bad one. And it was beginning

to give him a stomach ache. He sauntered over to his best friend who was

sitting on the top branch, eyeing the discarded eyes of a calf. “What do you do about a bad taste in your mouth?” asked the first Vulture to his

friend. “You neutralize it with a good one. Everybody knows that” replied his friend.

“Serves you right for eating liver anyway.” You should leave it for the thick-skinned

Pariah Kites. Us sensitive kinds must lay off the violent victuals. Didn’t your

parents teach you that?” “The guts of the cat The udders of the cow The spleen of the thing That goes ‘Bow Bow’ The gizzard of the lizard The camel’s hump The nuts of the squirrel These all shall you dump The buffalo’s liver Is a strict no no As are the heart of a man And a monkey’s toe.” Don’t you remember?” said his friend launching into the famous violent-victuals

lecture. “We have been eaters of dead animals for millions of years, unlike the Kites who

began just a few thousand years ago. We’ve developed very sensitive taste-buds.

That is why the elders have listed down the things we should eat and those we

shouldn’t. Junk thoughts can kill you. You must be more careful in future.” “But we used to eat every part of the animals earlier” said the Vulture “We never

cared about the carrion’s delicate parts.” “Those were better times” said his friend. “The animals mostly died of natural causes.

Not the violent deaths common today. It’s difficult to know how a body died nowadays.

And by the time you find out, it’s often too late. Look at ‘Suicide Sam’. He flies at those

iron birds every time they come screeching down. Just because he ate the heart of a

human who jumped off a cliff. These are dangerous times. And if we want carry on

eating carrion, we’ll have to learn to adapt.” “But I’ve been nibbling the so-called violent victuals every once in a while” Said the

Vulture. “It gives an interesting layer to lunch. I’d grown used to it. A dash of despair

and a glob of greed goes down very well with a meal sometimes. It’s just this

particular buffalo that seems to be troubling me. I can’t seem to put my beak on

the emotion.” “I’d stay away from them if I were you” said his friend before he launched his

large ungainly frame down towards the eyes he had been eyeing. But the Vulture could now feel the effects of the buffalo’s thoughts wearing off. And

there came upon his person, the urge to feel that exotic thought again. It had

begun with a tingling in his tongue and had run down his rather long neck until it

had covered his entire body. The texture of the thought had been close to that

of greed, without the taste of adipose. It also had the lingering flavour of longing

without the bitter-sweet undercurrent of love. Without a pause, he flew back to the slaughterhouse.