one chicken, no head...

It was a feather ruffling phrase used in passing last week - running around like a chicken with its head cut off - that made me remember. 

Because - gory truth be told - I have, in fact, seen a headless chicken.  It happened one sunny, lazy, weekend afternoon at Girls School.

As any hungry boarding school kid does, I shook out my pillowcase and mattress...hunting for change that could get me a few snacks from  the little blue store - Pichaikanis, a.k.a. Pichees.

Success! I had enough for a full dose of two paisa murrukus plus enough to tip Cuppan, my favorite go-to errand man. Pichees - despite being just down the road and around a bend - was officially out of bounds.

Sidebar: Cuppan, like other support staff, needs must be memorialized for their yeoman service to generations of hungry boarders who wanted nothing more than healthy murukkus, chalk sweets, bulls-eyes and candy shaped to look like lit cigarettes. </end random thought>

Cuppan walked over to the area between the woodshed and the playground, stepped up onto a stone slab, climbed over the low wall and headed for the shop. I wandered over to that area myself and sat down on the wall to wait for his return - absentmindedly forgetting that the white limestone wash on the top of the wall would rub right off on my clothes. In my defense, it was a sunny, lazy, weekend afternoon. But I may have said that already.

The world settled into silence, broken by the lazy humming of a bee and a slight rustle of wind. I stepped off the wall and walked on past the woodshed and behind the kitchen.

Peace.

Shattered.

There was a sudden flurry of squawks and a muttered curse. I turned my head in bemusement as the scene unfolded in slow motion. Squawks....a hen running by me in frantic search of its head - blood spurting from its neck...followed by a flustered cook with a bloody knife and an embarrassed grin.

The cook eventually caught the runaway dinner entree and stalked silently back into the depths of the kitchen.

Silence reigned once more as everyone took their places again.

The bee returned to buzzing around the woodpile, I returned to the wall, the chicken headed for the pot, the cook headed for his spices. Cuppan strolled back from the store and I...I walked on, thoughtfully munching my murukkus.

Life goes on. As do chicken curries.


Note: This great photograph is from Wikipedia, taken by Andrei Niemimäki from Turku, Finland.

Comments

[Deepa Alexander]

Loved that story Priya!! Love traveling down memory lane - I can just picture Cuppan's face as I read it. No wonder you are a vegetarian!! :-)

[Unnati Joshi-Dandgaval]

Loved that story and do remember hearing about that!!

[priya]

LOL! It was quite a scene! I think I might write a bit more about some of our support staff.vI wish today I had learned more about Cuppan's life. His non-Lovedale life, that is....and then there were Hameeda, Sounderraj, Harriet, Ammani...give me a few more names!

[Deepa Alexander]

Velu was one of the 2 cooks - I can picture the other guy's face - but cannot remember his name.

[Asha Prabhakaran]

There was Joe, Natraj and Janaki (with a huge kettle with coffee for the 10th and 12th graders to study late into the night......)

[Cecily Thomas]

Met Soundi at our reunion. A little grey but otherwise the same.He was a terror back then...

[Malini]

Hi Priya - happy to see you're back, renewing our memories about school again through your lovely blog posts.

Do you remember what a wizard Kuppan used to be with the water boiler in Girls' School? He used to fire it up in time for Baths and keep it going the whole hour. And when we had problems who did we go to but Kuppan, sitting behind the kitchens in the woodshed!

[priya]

Hi, Malini - and thank you so much!
He was a master, wasn't he? :-) I might have to do a whole post on the showers...and some of the games we played while waiting our turn...thanks for sparking that memory!