The Crow Chronicles, page 31
‘Phutki, don’t ever forget that this is a very dangerous game we are playing. If any of us gets caught we can expect no mercy from those crows. We have to be extremely cautious. Both you and Phuljari are now wanted, so it would be better if you camped here for the time being. And once Titiri is well enough to fly, the group should move from hideout to hideout as frequently as possible. You can’t remain here indefinitely and expect to remain undetected. I know of several such safe areas and will guide you there as and when becomes necessary.’
As could be expected, the sound advice emanated from Ghughuji. He went on. ‘Also, the group must have a leader. Someone who will take decisions and the responsibility that goes with them.’
‘Er . . . how about you, sir?’ suggested Phutki, wondering if the old windbag had been fishing for the post. And indeed, Ghughuji was flattered by the suggestion. This chatterbox was not quite as bad as her reputation had made her out to be.
‘No, not me! I will be your front man, so to speak. The interface between you and the crownies. I will return to my kadam tree, resume my normal life and try to worm my way into the new set-up, as a consultant perhaps. That way I might have access to inside information which I could then pass on to you . . .’
‘I propose that Achaanak be your leader, for he was the first amongst us to raise the alarm regarding Kaw, and has the greatest need to avenge the injustices perpetrated against him by Kala Kaloota.’ And added magnanimously, ‘Also, as we have seen, he is fierce and courageous, and a bird of action.’
‘And I second the proposal,’ said Phuljari promptly and the others nodded their agreement.
Achaanak blinked his eyes and gulped.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And as my first act as leader, I ask you all to swear an oath of allegiance to our group and cause. Pluck a down-feather from your throat, hold it up and repeat after me . . .
‘We, the free birds of the Keoladeo National Park, do solemnly swear to fight the evil forces of corvid Nazism and tyranny to the last drop of our blood, and until such time as is necessary to regain our freedom and democracy. That we shall be united in this endeavour and stand by one another, no matter how strong or dangerous our adversaries may be.’
And gravely, the small circle of birds in the moonlit clearing swore allegiance to their new leader.
A more dangerous and evil conspiracy was being hatched on that moonlit night in another part of the park. The deposed Chief of Intelligence, Budhboo Bundicoot, had returned to his hideout in the high grass, after attending Kaw’s rally, and en route, had called upon a number of his unsavoury acquaintances.
There was Sadiyal Sewerjit, the bristly tusk-tempered wild boar who crashed through the undergrowth like a stout armoured car. He had always wanted to be a part of the power elite (now being promised this by Budhboo), but lacked the brains to realize that those in power had, in the past, only used him to ensure that they remained in power. There was the sole surviving Goonda Billi of Python Point with five new recruits: his extravagant account of how they had battled one thousand blood-eyed crows apiece had won him this admiring following, and now he too (prompted by Budhboo) had been charged up with the desire to avenge ravaged feline honour. There was Havaldar Bhoot, the ex-governor of the Ghana Ghouls Ghonsla (who had fled just before the crownies ‘liberated’ the place) along with six ex-Ghouls who remained loyal to the old order. This collection of thugs accompanied Budhboo quite willingly back to the hideout where Billa waited, killing munias to pass the time.
Budhboo got to the point immediately.
The bandicoot climbed up a termite mound and from this vantage point, caught the eye of each of the hoodlums, one by one.
‘I have brought you here tonight for one very important reason,’ he stated slowly. ‘And that reason is to constitute you as founding officers of the Pakshi Virudh Sena. Yes, my friends, the time has come for senas to take over from samitis. For military action and nothing less.’ Budhboo turned towards Sadiyal Sewerjit whose piggy eyes bulged uncomprehendingly.
‘You, Sadiyal Sewerjit, shall be in command of the First Sewer Armoured Corps and shall hold the rank of Major General. You will recruit and train a force of one hundred wild boars to become the finest, most invincible fighting animals in the Keoladeo National Park. You shall report to Lieutenant General Chakumar Billa here.’
Budhboo turned towards Billa with a flourish. ‘I would like to present to you Lieutenant General Billa, so gallantly wounded in the terrible battle of Python Point, who shall be in overall command of the Pakshi Virudh Sena and be responsible for its effective functioning . . .’
Not quite the military tom just yet, Billa raised his paw and interrupted the bandicoot, who he suspected was about to appoint himself as his superior officer.
‘What about you?’ he asked bluntly.
‘As Supreme Commanding Officer of the Pakshi Virudh Sena, I have taken on the rank of Field Marshal,’ replied the bandicoot unctuously, knowing that Billa would not like this, but then there was nothing the tomcat could do about it. The other founder-members of the Sena were loyal to him, so if Billa had objections, he could stuff them. He turned to the Python Point veteran.
‘In recognition of the valour you displayed in the face of such overwhelming enemy firepower at the battle of Python Point, you, Colonel Goonda Billi, commanding officer of the First Goonda Billi Battalion, which fell so heroically in that battle, have been promoted to the rank of Brigadier and shall be in command of the Second Goonda Battalion!’
And flattery spread its sweet poison through the Goonda Billi, making him purr with pleasure. All his life he had been nothing but a two-bit hoodlum. He flicked his tail and thought, Brigadier Goonda Billi! By God, that did sound impressive and would go a long way in ensuring ample complimentary supplies of rum.
On Budhboo’s part, it was a shrewd move—to have thus elevated one he had so recently plotted to kill. There would be less of a chance that Lieutenant General Billa would be able to hatch some feline plot behind his back.
He turned his attention now to Havaldar Bhoot.
‘As the only one of us who can fly, you, Shri Havaldar Bhoot, shall have an onerous responsibility thrust upon you. You shall be in command of the Sena’s air force, and be designated the rank of Wing Commander.’
And Wing Commander Havaldar Bhoot, though not quite the best of fliers, preened his glossy sienna plumage and saluted his superior officer gratefully. Budhboo acknowledged the salute and cleared his throat to still the restlessness that had begun to affect his officers.
‘Officers and gentlemen of the Pakshi Virudh Sena. Our first noble and avowed objective is to oust the monstrous invader from our midst and to liberate our beloved Ghana from his evil clutches. We will achieve our objective—I assure you of that—and shall hang their leader from the highest tree. And we shall achieve our glorious objective, by, amongst other things, unleashing a reign of terror within the park that will in very short order lead to a complete breakdown of law and order.’
Budhboo regarded his officers in Napoleonic mien. ‘Now, do any of you have any suggestions as to how we may achieve our noble objective?’
The hoodlums who had gathered around him were not exactly renowned for their intelligence, and none were forthcoming.
‘Very well,’ said Budhboo. ‘This is the plan of operation I have in mind. One: we neutralize completely all members of the royal house, who have, I’m afraid, behaved in a treasonable and traitorous manner in the face of the foreign invasion. Two: we neutralize them in such a manner so as to make it look as though the invader himself, that white crow bastard, was responsible for the deed. Three: immediately after this has been done, we lead the simple-minded masses in open revolt against the invaders. And then, like it happened in the glorious French Revolution, we storm Stinky Tops and sack the Crownies’ Thicket. The white crow shall be given a fair military trial and then be hanged from the highest tree in Keoladeo. And we, of course, take over the reins of power!’
The plan sounded magnificent. The officers and gentlemen of the Sena felt their hackles rise with excitement. Astonishingly, it was Billa who put his paw on the weakest link.
‘How do we assassinate members of the royal family and make it look as though Kaw has done it?’ he asked.
Budhboo smiled indulgently because he had thought it all through.
‘We make it look as though the crows have done it because the crows are going to do it,’ he explained, enjoying their bemused expressions. ‘And Wing Commander Bhoot here, and his splendid squadron, will play a vital role in the scheme of things.’
Bhoot snapped to attention and bridled, but wondered uneasily what he would have to do. His Field Marshal marched briskly up to him and stared him in the eye.
‘Bhoot, you shall be in charge of the most daring covert operation undertaken in the history of the park. You and the other members of the squadron will immediately report back to the Ghana Ghouls Ghonsla, ostensibly in response to the announcement made by the enemy that they are re-recruiting ex-Ghouls for their own deployment. In all likelihood you will be accepted and sent to the Crownies’ Thicket for a spell of “training”. Here you will come into contact with many misguided crows wanting to enrol with the enemy forces. Without raising suspicions, you will befriend those who have failed in their quest, and who appear disgruntled with the crownies. Send them over to me and I will do the rest. In a very short time we shall have raised a highly motivated team of mercenary crows thirsting for revenge, and ready to storm the palace.
‘In the meanwhile, our Propaganda Department, under my direct control, shall be preparing the grounds, so as to make the assassination and raid on Jumiz Bagh appear as a foregone conclusion. We shall spread authentic rumours about how Kaw is plotting to kill Baadshah and his family to crown himself absolute monarch, as well as rumours of how Baadshah is plotting to get rid of Kaw, fearing a coup d’etat against himself. That should keep both parties in a state of healthy mutual mistrust.’
This time, the officers and gentlemen of the Pakshi Virudh Sena applauded openly. Billa raised his paw.
‘The plan is excellent. But it might take these fellows a little while to infiltrate the crows. As commanding officer of the Sena, I think it would be very necessary for us to embark on some form of active combat before that.’
‘But of course, Lieutenant General, but of course! We shall go into action well before that. You do remember we have to create a state of anarchy in the park, to show that the crows are utterly incapable as rulers. For the purpose, I have Operation Broken Bird lined up. It will be a lesson to those crows regarding the dangers of meddling with us. Operation Broken Bird shall be launched tomorrow night, and you, Lieutenant General Chakumar Billa, shall be in command.’
‘And what does that entail?’ drawled Billa, stretching languorously.
‘The first phase of Operation Broken Bird will get under way at 2355 hours, tomorrow night . . .’ Budhboo continued.
And then, from deep within, Chakumar Billa felt a sudden urge to leap at his Field Marshal and rend him from limb to limb; to tear out that stringy throat from where the suave voice poured forth. He resisted the impulse and listened on quietly.
But when he looked down at his great shaggy paws, he saw that his claws were out . . .
Back at Stinky Tops, Kaw and Craven were putting finishing touches to their next move. Two days hence, a set of draconian ordinances would come into force—ordinances that would dramatically affect the lives of all the birds in the park. The ordinances would be published in that morning’s edition of the Kaloota Chronicles, and would be rigidly imposed. Craven Raven scanned the document.
‘What if there is violent opposition? Protests and demonstrations . . . that kind of thing?’
‘Then we stamp them out immediately and brutally. The ordinance will be implemented in full!’
And once again, the sanctuary was heading for a tumultuous twenty-four hours.
The following night, Operation Broken Bird was scheduled to begin.
And early the next morning, Did-He-Do-It? was scheduled for re-appearance, giving the sensational story of what really happened during the night of the coup.
And also from that very day, the first of a series of dreadful ordinances would come into force in the park, tightening the stranglehold of the crows inexorably.
Kaw, in fact, was now already looking much further into the future. A flinty look had spread across his countenance, and Craven Raven knew that another bombshell was about to explode.
‘I have been thinking, Craven Raven,’ announced Kaw, ‘that it is time I got married.’
‘Married, sir? A very sensible idea, sir.’ Craven Raven remained unflappable as always.
‘More than that, a necessary one,’ went on Kaw. ‘You see, it is part of my Grand Plan. Without heirs I can only rule as long as I live. With heirs I can start a dynasty. Not only that, I plan to extend my rule to all the other parks and sanctuaries in the country. And I can only do that if I have plenty of heirs who can be put in charge of those places once we take them over.’
‘Would you be requiring one wife, sir, or er . . . several?’ asked Craven with the air of a chief steward inquiring how much champagne was required. If Kaw wanted his progeny to rule all the parks and sanctuaries of the country he would need several wives.
‘Oh . . . I would imagine, one per season,’ replied Kaw, and then added pensively, ‘though it might be more productive to have several at the same time, like that Bayaram fellow . . .’
‘Er . . . sir, any suggestions as to who the first lucky bride would be?’
‘No,’ replied his boss directly. ‘And that’s the problem. I want you to set up a Ministry of Matrimony just for this purpose. To search for and screen potential aspirants. I want the first list of potential brides within a fortnight, so there is no time to lose.’
‘Very well, sir,’ said Craven Raven. ‘Do you have anyone in mind for the minister’s post?’
‘No,’ said Kaw shortly, ‘that’s your job.’
‘In that case, may I suggest we put in charge that sarus crane female . . .’ And Craven Raven told him about her. Kaw approved immediately.
‘Fine, sound her out for the job. And tell her this is a top secret assignment. If word gets out we shall break her legs like we did to the Kala Talwars.’
And when Devirani Sarus was summoned to Stinky Tops and given the news personally by Craven Raven, her joy knew no bounds. Back in her bit of marsh, she kicked up those leathery legs and rolled her beady orange eyes in bliss.
‘Jane Austen was right,’ she brayed at her sulking husband (who had not been invited to Stinky Tops).
‘About what?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘That “it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife”,’ answered his wife, mystifyingly.
‘He must be out of his mind,’ muttered her good husband, as he minced off behind yet another demoiselle crane.
4
Operation Broken Bird
It was more an act of shame than the act of war it was triumphantly drummed about as by the generals of the Pakshi Virudh Sena. For, their first armed strike—Operation Broken Bird—against the government of Kala Kaloota was directed at a soft target, one that was harmless, innocent and worst of all—sleeping.
At 2300 hours on the following night, the ‘liberation forces’ of the Sena assembled in the section of scrubby thickets that separates the Shanti Kutir complex from the channel used for boating. The commanding officers of the Sena had done a good job as far as recruitment (at short notice) was concerned, though frankly, it is never very difficult to attract thugs and hoodlums to an easy killing.
In a moonlit clearing, Lieutenant General Billa now presented his troops to Field Marshal Bundicoot.
Major General Sadiyal Sewerjit, commanding the First Sewer Armoured Corps, certainly had the most formidable force: fifty hirsute fighting boars, each one of them short-tempered, long-tusked and tough-muscled.
Brigadier Goonda Billi (‘Tiger Rum’ to his friends after his recent promotion) stood at the head of a slavering, rough-coated platoon of thirty wildcats, their yellow eyes baleful, their furry tails whipping back and forth in time. (Some were ex-Kommando Kats.)
Wing Commander Havaldar Bhoot of the Sena’s air force had recruited twenty ex-Ghouls who had fled the Ghonsla and Stinky Tops on the night of the coup. Initially, Field Marshal Bundicoot had been reluctant to permit the gallant Wing Commander to take part in the night’s attack, as he (and five other valorous Ghouls) were due to present themselves at the Ghonsla the following day as part of the Great Infiltration Plot. But the risk of injury (forget about death) to the members of the Sena in Operation Broken Bird was so minute that the Field Marshal had relented. The valiant Wing Commander was eager for action and Lieutenant General Billa had maintained that they needed every fighting Ghoul they could get.
The Field Marshal completed his inspection and nodded his approval. ‘Good job, Billa,’ he commended. ‘With this splendid force we should rout the enemy.’ And then, because he was Budhboo Bundicoot after all, added with gentle irony, ‘I suppose they all know what to do?’
Billa nodded curtly and began his final briefing. Operation Broken Bird, conceived and planned by the two of them, was simple, deadly and terrible.
‘We strike at the stroke of midnight,’ Billa began. ‘Brigadier Goonda Billi and myself will lead the Second Goonda Billi Battalion into the battlefield first. Target number one is the Shanti Kutir Forest Resthouse complex.
‘The battalion will split up into six killer squads of five wildcats each. Three will operate under my direct orders, and the other three shall be under Brigadier Goonda Billi. Each squad will head for the trees signalled out to them by myself or the Brigadier. In the trees, they will neutralize the enemy—all the sleeping and roosting birds they come across—by engaging in hand-to-hand combat. They will simply swat them off the branches, but shall make sure that their blows kill or incapacitate the enemy, so that the ground forces shall have no problem. All nests that are found are to be destroyed along with their contents.
