You had to hand it to the architect who designed our office building. He knew how to design a death trap all right. For reasons best known to him, he had left a 10-feet deep and 6-inch wide gap beneath each glass window facing the busy thoroughfare just outside. It was perfect for trapping pigeons who often fell into the gap and could never fly up again because there was no space to spread their wings. Maybe the architect had a thing against pigeons. Anyway, we tried to compensate by keeping the windows closed at all times except during prolonged powercuts. 

During one such powercut, one window had been opened. Then everyone forgot about closing it. Next morning, a small, grey pigeon was discovered right at the bottom of the deep, narrow gap beneath the window. It wasn’t even trying to fly up anymore and just sitting quietly waiting to die. As news spread, lot of people came to take a look and offer wise comments and suggestions before going their way. Nobody could decide what to do to rescue the little bird. We threw down bread pieces and fruits, but it seemed that the little pigeon was fasting until death. The office was ransacked for a mug small enough to be lowered through the gap, but none could be found. If ever a bright idea was needed, this was the time. We scratched our heads, looked at each other and shook our heads, reluctant to admit defeat. If we could not rescue our bird on time, we would still have to excavate the remains or live with the smell as it decomposed. Nobody wanted that. We needed something that was flexible enough to slip through the gap, but spacious enough to room our suicide candidate.

Then, by a happy instance, our gaze fell on a plastic bag. Yes, the same plastic that is kicking up a hot debate in the bustling Indian metropolises. The same plastic that is clogging up our drains and we are being urged to do without. But not in this case. It was the only idea which had any merit.

Soon, a long rope was found and tied to one handle of the plastic bag. Then the bag was slowly lowered down to the level of our bird. With everyone hanging out to see the outcome, it was a wonder that no one fell out. Anyway, as the bag touched the bird on its back, it perked up and looked around at this interruption in its meditation about life and death. The bag was gradually lowered to the floor of the gap and enough traction maintained on the handle to keep its mouth open and facing the pigeon. Then everyone started praying. “Get inside, please, little bird. You will live. You will fly again. This is not a trap. You will be safe inside. Just take a few steps and we will lift you to freedom.” The tension was palpable as we waited for the bird to change its mind and think about living instead of dying. The seconds dragged. There was nothing left for us to do if this did not work. There was no backup plan that we could fall back on. So we prayed harder for the little pigeon to see the open mouth of the despised plastic bag as a door to life and freedom.

God must have been listening. The pigeon seemed to take a little interest in the bag which looked like a cozy hole to sleep in. It inspected the inside of the bag with the peculiar side-to-side motion of the neck typical of this species. We pushed our luck by gently nudging the bag closer to the pigeon. It took a couple of steps backward in fright. So we stopped the movement and kept our fingers crossed. Then, with slow, hesitating steps, the pigeon stepped into the bag. As shouts and cheers rang out from the watchers, the bag was gently lifted and maneuvered though the narrow gap with the pigeon safely inside. Everyone wanted to take a look, touch its back gently, and congratulate the erstwhile suicide candidate on returning to life.

Soon, it was time to let it go. The bag was held horizontally on the windowsill with the mouth wide open. This time, the pigeon needed no deliberation to figure out what to do. The golden sun was beckoning. The crisp winter air was waiting. As we all watched, the pigeon spread its wings and flew out of the bag into the beautiful blue sky. A great cheer went up, and we all felt wonderfully happy for our little bird. We followed the flight with our eyes as long as we could. Then we firmly closed the window and latched it before going back to work.