My Sister Turns Into a Crow

Vijaya Jonnalagadda

Please don’t raise your brow either in disbelief or in scepticism. Yes, my younger sister turned herself into a crow. But don’t jump to the last paragraph and spoil the tempo of my narration. Please hold your breath in suspense till the last. It is a short piece only.

My sister Vijayalakshmi was born a healthy baby and grew up into a lively girl till she was two years old.

She ate well and played like any other girl of her age till then.     Thenceforth, her life began to take strange turns. On a bad day she refused to eat cooked rice. When she was spoonfed cooked rice, she did not open her mouth. She said that it was not a morsel of cooked rice but a swarm of ants.

No amount of logic could convince her little brain that it was cooked rice only.

My father, being a doctor, took her to child psychologists They tried their best to diagnose her problem and treat it in vain.

Then my father took her to the Parthasarathi Temple in Triplicane, Madras, on my mother’s suggestion, and met the chief priest there. He explained to him about the problem of my little sister.

The priest recited some mantras and tied a talisman around her neck. He also advised on Ayush Homam (a ritual for longevity).

Later there was considerable improvement. Now she stopped seeing swarms of ants in the cooked rice and started eating as usual.

But alas! She began to grow into a dullard, contrary to our expectations. Her learning skills were impaired. She always stuttered in her speech.

Her formal schooling was stopped at fourth grade as a result of these problems. She was very lean and short too.

To add to her woes, she got primary complex (childhood tuberculosis) when she was twelve years old which was successfully treated by my doctor brother. 

But in spite of all these shortcomings, she developed into a practical woman. She was very shrewd in day-to-day affairs. She counted currency notes correctly and bombarded the maidservant when the latter scrubbed the vessels clumsily. She was also very alert when the milk vendor tried to mislead her about the monthly account. 

My parents tried in vain to secure a matrimonial alliance for her. But, unfortunately, her horoscope did not match tthat of any groom. Yet, the astrologers who scrutinised her horoscope assured my parents that my sister would live a decent life and there were even chances of her going abroad.

She developed an affinity with my brother's family and reared their children as her own. She went to England twice to spend her time with my brother’s family.

But times changed as she began to grow old. She developed rheumatoid arthritis, which entered into her bloodstream and gradually found its way into her heart. The rheumatologist who treated her said her days were numbered.

This disease gave her uncontrollable stomach aches. The gastroenterologists, without bothering about her rheumatoid arthritis,  diagnosed that she suffered with gastric problems and treated her accordingly. 

After a short struggle and convulsions, she breathed her last. When life was about to ebb out of her body, she enquired about the welfare of my late brother’s children feebly. These were the last words she uttered. 

I performed her last rites with tear-filled eyes.

Now I come to the beginning of this piece. when I said that my sister turned herself into a crow. Yet it was true. In Hindu religion, on the 12th day of death ceremony and all subsequent death ceremonies on each annual death day, the departed soul takes the form of a crow (vayasa rupena) to partake the offering of a moong dhal (green gramme) morsel.

Now, on the day of the death ceremony of the year, a crow, considered to be the soul of my sister, would appear at the door of the house where my late brother's family resides and partake of the offering of a morsel of moong dhal.

Then the crow would look at the family members of my late brother and fly away.