Mother's day, Parrot and Cold Logic

Mother’s day, Parrot and Cold Logic

Lulu, the parrot, circled over my head and then descended to settle on my lap.
‘Hey! That’s not the place for you; parrots sit on shoulders and on hands’. I said.
‘I know you keep your ‘Laptop’ here, but so what? I am more intelligent than your laptop, if not its owner’ Lulu said.
‘You are increasingly becoming arrogant’ I said, ‘Do you know it is ‘Mother’s day’ today? I remember her very much’.
‘Oh yes, she was a fine lady. She passed away six years ago isn’t it?’ Lulu said rubbing his beak on my arm, ‘But the time you spent with her was getting shorter and the subjects of discussion fewer as both of you grew older, right?’
‘Yes. My work and travel kept me busy and left little time to interact. She is gone to the land from which nobody returns, and I feel I was unfair to her’. I said.
‘I may be arrogant but you are not truthful’ Lulu protested, ‘You always knew that she wanted to spend just fifteen minutes in a day with you. You never did!’ Lulu said pulling my ear with his beak.
‘You are pulling my ear, you idiot’, I shouted, ‘and it hurts’.
‘Something more seems to be hurting you today’ Lulu, the parrot, continued.
‘I never knew that parrots get trained as Psychoanalysts’ I said. ‘Yes, you are right again. During the last two months of her life she was lying in the bed like a vegetable with her right side paralysed. Her brain was severely damaged. She had somehow managed to remove the tube through which she was fed; it was inserted through her nose. A close friend who was also a doctor advised me not to insert it again. Relatives agreed. I was very confused but agreed’ I said.
‘Doctors see the world differently. Why continue the agony? The Doctor-friend would have thought’, Lulu said jumping on my shoulder. ‘In any case, her days were numbered’.
‘She gave me life and I gave her death’ I said wiping off my tears.
‘You are getting very sentimental, but I understand you. Do not carry such feelings of guilt. After all, you relieved her of the agony of living like a vegetable for probably fifteen days. Do not think about it, it is futile. Just say your daily prayer.’ Lulu hopped on to my head. With a flutter of his wings he flew away.
Lulu may be right, but cold logic does not cure.
Vivek S Patwardhan
(Pic Simon Rae)