Swooosh! It definitely had mistaken me for a goat or a lamb or something that it can hold on to, and drag along, and then maybe gnaw and claw and tear and chew as it sits peacefully on the top of the electromagnetic radiation bearing poles that powers my phone and creates so much ambient electromagnetic radiation in the process that I once, in a dreary Delhi winter, tried to research if it is possible to harness this energy to glow a bulb (I would have continued had someone said to me - Go Mohan, light your bulb).
At 6 AM in the morning when you go on the terrace of your roof to stretch and bend to touch your toes, ere the red sun rises and makes everything burn like hell, you expect peace and tranquility and chirping of birds. But lo! I was attacked. Shocked, I ducked and in my half bend posture raised my eyes to see huge flaps of brown wings steering away, nonchalantly, and turn away maybe for another circle of let's-grab-the-man-in-the-knickers.
Never until now, had I known that the smoothness of my hair can indeed be a life saving gift. I shudder to think about my hair entangled in the dirty claws of the beast, being either dragged along the length of my terrace. Or maybe the beast would have gotten stuck in the air trying to break itself free from its hold of my hair, flapping incessantly until I would have told her (him?) to become by "baaz". He would then have been bound to come and settle on my hand when i would have whistled. I am not aware if there exists some other "baaz" domestication process.
The other thoughts I had as I ran away downwards through the stairs was that the only other possibility that explains this bizarre incident can be that it was indeed sent by Gandalf and had mistaken me for Frodo, or behold! It can also be that it was not mistaken and it is me who is indeed headed towards the Mount Doom, as all of us our.
But of all things, from next time, I will take an eagle attack as an omen for CEO bashing.
At 6 AM in the morning when you go on the terrace of your roof to stretch and bend to touch your toes, ere the red sun rises and makes everything burn like hell, you expect peace and tranquility and chirping of birds. But lo! I was attacked. Shocked, I ducked and in my half bend posture raised my eyes to see huge flaps of brown wings steering away, nonchalantly, and turn away maybe for another circle of let's-grab-the-man-in-the-knickers.
Never until now, had I known that the smoothness of my hair can indeed be a life saving gift. I shudder to think about my hair entangled in the dirty claws of the beast, being either dragged along the length of my terrace. Or maybe the beast would have gotten stuck in the air trying to break itself free from its hold of my hair, flapping incessantly until I would have told her (him?) to become by "baaz". He would then have been bound to come and settle on my hand when i would have whistled. I am not aware if there exists some other "baaz" domestication process.
The other thoughts I had as I ran away downwards through the stairs was that the only other possibility that explains this bizarre incident can be that it was indeed sent by Gandalf and had mistaken me for Frodo, or behold! It can also be that it was not mistaken and it is me who is indeed headed towards the Mount Doom, as all of us our.
But of all things, from next time, I will take an eagle attack as an omen for CEO bashing.
