February 9. “Aren’t we writing our story?”

“Of-course we are. Now whose turn is it?”

“Mine.”

“Then proceed.”

Sugar chased Redbull who was much too fast for the strays. He ran, jumped from one housetop to the other, flapped his wings and flew with all four strays whizzing through the narrow lanes and by-lanes at breakneck speed. B

At one point, it looked as if Sandy had got to him but Redbull pulled his tail away just in time.

He was about to escape when he found Mogs glaring down at him. B

Redbull looked completely taken aback. Soon, the fourth friend, Pepper, joined them making it impossible for Redbull to escape. The four friends had Redbull pinned to the ground with their paws.

Seeing that he was cornered, Redbull had no option but put up both his wings in surrender. Can we be friends? He asked. B

“Button, I don’t know about you but I am very sleepy and need to go to bed. Plus, tomorrow is yoga day.”

“Goodnight.”

“I’m really enjoying myself. Can we write just a little more and then retire?”

“Ok, since you insist. But just a few paras more.”

“Sure.”

Sugar, Sandy, Mogs and Pepper looked at each other and didn’t know how to respond! After having pecked Sugar hard on his nose and making him bleed, waking them up at an unearthly hour and making them go round and round in circles, the bird had the audacity to say he wished to shake their hands and become friends?

There was pin-drop silence for a good couple of minutes and then Sandy spoke up—At least have the decency to apologize. B

I am sorry. Very sorry. You see, I’m used to waking up every morning at the dot of 4 and didn’t quite understand why someone else should be asleep! Did I hurt you?

Badly. I must be bleeding. And who are you? Where have you come from? B

You mean to say you haven’t seen one like me in all these years? The Chowdhury’s down the road brought me home to make a meal out of me. I just happened to escape. I spent the earlier years of my life in a hatchery.

What’s a hatchery? B

It’s a farm where farmers breed poultry and supply them to poultry markets which sell us to whoever comes to buy us. That’s how I ended up in the Chowdhury’s home. Their youngest son eats nothing but chicken.

Sugar, Sandy, Mogs and Pepper felt bad after hearing Redbull’s story. B

We forgive you. Please don’t do this kind of thing ever again. But what if the Chowdhury’s see you and come after you?

I’ll deal with that if it happens. But will the four of you be my friend? B

We are your friends—the four of them chorused not too happily…