A date with friendly peacocks of my village
My native village is home to peafowls. They’ve been there for centuries. At present, about 300 of them cohabit the hamlet.
It is a treat to hear the melodious calls of the plumed peacocks, watch the majestic gait of peahens and trace the magical baby steps of chicks in tow.
My mother, who is now no more, once told me that when I was 10 months old some 67 years ago, the first two words I lisped were ‘ma’ for mother and ‘mo’ for ‘mor’ ie peacock in Hindi. Peacocks used to perch on our rooftop, and, they still do, after having a small leap from a nearby ‘triveni’ or triumvirate of ‘bargad (banyan)’, peepal and neem trees.
I have grown up viewing the elegant display of their resplendent plumage both on the rooftops and in the fields. It heralded the rainy season or the thick dark clouds hovering overhead ready to pour down buckets. My father (Heaven be his!) used to hum nostalgically a soulful song of an old Hindi film ‘Tansen’(1943) sung by Khurshid Bano, “Ghata ghanghor ghor/ Mor machave shor/Morey sajan aa ja…”
Lamhe’s ‘Morni bagan me boli aadhi raat ma’ talks of a peahen. A jingle for kids: “Nani teri morni ko mor le gaye/ Baaki jo bacha tha kaley chor le gaye’ is its humorous part.
The peacocks’ piercing call, the extravagant plumage, their eye-spotted train of covert feathers which they fan as part of a courtship ritual always arrested me.
Though they nest on ground and roost in trees, they are terrestrial feeders. A couple of them became so familiar that they used to come down to our courtyard dot at the time when my mother sat down to knead the flour in the evening. They relished pieces of dough and cracked grains served to them.
Likewise, a few others perched on neighbouring houses. One day, a lady got a bit late for kneading, the domesticated, but not pet, peacock started making knocking sounds by pecking at the windowpanes of the room where she was having a siesta, reminding her that she was late for his evening feast.
A trio sauntered and strutted in the sprawling lawns of my elder aunt as if they were members of the family and feared none. After their daily short family visits, they flew back to the ‘triveni’. As a child, I played with their chicks!
One needn’t be a judicial bigwig to make a well-researched pronouncement on one’s day of superannuation that the peacock became a national bird as it was ‘brahamchari (celibate)’ and that a peahen got in the family way by swallowing its tears!
As a seven-year-old I had heard this mythological story from my elders. They used to tell the kids that the peacock is a paragon of beauty but its feet are ugly. They said when it rejoiced and danced fanning its shimmering tail, it became sad looking at its rugged feet and thorny legs; it wept and shed tears that were consumed by the peahen for becoming pregnant.
A few years later, I myself chanced to see peacocks indulging in such love-making acts with peahens which demolished, much before hand, their later-stage enlightened celibacy theory! Rather, peacocks are polygamous.
Our elders were totally illiterate to tell us all this but a judge is too learned a person to say what he said about peacocks recently.
In his ‘On the Origin of Species’, Charles Darwin suggested that the peacock’s iridescent coloration of train served to attract females and had evolved through sexual selection!
Peacocks are farmers’ friends as they kill snakes and other poisonous insects. If a peacock is Adonis among birds, the peahen is also proverbial for its ‘morni di chaal’ (gait). The Sanskrit word for peacock is ‘mayur’. It is considered sacred in Hindu mythology. Its feathers adorn the crest of Lord Krishna.
It symbolises myriad human emotions, both of joy in union and sadness in separation.
When village houses were of mud, womenfolk would paint the walls or doors with pictures of sparrows and peacocks.
Poet Surjit Patar has aptly said: “Nachna ta ki si osne, do pal ch khur giya, Kanian ki char diggian mitti de mor te (What to speak of his dancing, a few rain drops were enough to dissolve the earthen peacock).
THE PEACOCKS’ PIERCING CALL, THE EXTRAVAGANT PLUMAGE, THEIR EYESPOTTED TRAIN OF COVERT FEATHERS WHICH THEY FAN AS PART OF A COURTSHIP RITUAL ALWAYS ARRESTED ME