The vultures are circling - waiting to devour

The leader and the flock are soaring over the horizon above the clouds. In its squawk language, the order goes out: “Go and check it out.” Many drop their heights for a better view. A handful hit the ground on a reconnaissance mission.

All report the vulnerability of the prey - a friend albeit a temporary one, now viewed as a foe in efforts to seizing power and taking control. “All alone. No support. Easy makan… sap sap suey,” confirms the feedback.

The war drums are beating on the ground. The flock smells blood. The sounds are rumbling in the wilderness. Almost everyone has heard it except the prey or he has pretended not having heard it. His own congregation have gotten the message – loud and clear.

They have abandoned their abode knowing that deals can’t be made with the devil – the vulture. They run helter-skelter – noiselessly to save their own skin and lives. The prey can only retreat into its burrow and wait in its safe haven. For how long? All alone – abandoned by the drove and can only hope to stay alive until the danger abates. It’s not going to be easy.

The vulture’s own vulnerability, survival and ability to stay in the sky are increasingly under a bank of cloud. It is Hobson’s choice – kill or be killed. The vulture has to destroy everyone within its sight to stay free. Otherwise, with a blunt beak, clipped wings and with no friends, confined space would be like a death sentence – even if it is a resort with only bamboo trees for company.

The vulture has its strength in numbers and in brawn – not brains. The muscles do the talking. The underlings have been trained and rewarded for merely taking orders brainlessly from the chief. Why shouldn’t they? It is a no-brainer. If they are members of the attacking pack, they will get the choice cuts when the feast starts while the silent ones will be left with bare-bones.

Elsewhere, the prey which is in isolation and total darkness senses the dangers. He takes time to reflect the events of the past few weeks. Why did he do it? Why did he turn against his mentor and benefactor? Did he hate him so much? Did he despise the other for his weaknesses or was jealous of his qualities? All he had to do was to bid for time, play “follow the leader” until the time comes to ask for it. No, he didn’t.

What was the hurry? Why the clamour for power and glory when it was beyond his abilities? Did he possess inner strength and the skills to undertake ruthless actions without caring for the world? Did he have the mental capacity and physical strength? Why then the clandestine operation to occupy the throne?

Now, every question is answered in negative connotation. Several ideas are going through his head. After all, an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. One concept seems acceptable and do-able. But does he have the gall and gumption to proceed?

The inner sanctum in his conscience says it all: “Nothing wrong in repenting and asking for forgiveness. After all, you will be doing it to for the benefit of all – not a selected few. The old "friends" will understand that you had made the wrong call.”

There is no one with whom these thoughts could be debated or bounced off. A decision has to be made – and made fast. The thunderous sounds from the skies indicate that rain is not far away. If the lair is flooded, there is a zilch chance of survival. If he comes out, the pack is ready to attack.

Zero hour is approaching. No time to debate the suggestion. Reinforcements are needed for survival. Can he rely on old friends after the betrayal? Will they be wary of being “once bitten, twice shy”? It should be worth a try.

Issues of who leads the surviving pack can be sorted out later but of immediate concern is to stave off the vultures. Will it be viable or can it work out? No time to think. He has to do it. Pronto! No more time to deliberate and discuss. He has to make the call. #

Meanwhile, the jungle is awakened to lyrics from Old Turkey Buzzard

Ol Turkey Buzzard, Ol Turkey Buzzard
Flyin, Flyin high,
He's just waiting
Buzzard just a-waiting
Waiting for something down below the dive
Old Buzzard knows that he can wait
Cause every mother's son has got a date,
A date with fate… with fate.

Will there be another cover version of this from José Feliciano song?

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R NADESWARAN asks if anyone is willing to talk some sense to the prey before the vulture destroys all of us. Comments: citizen.nades22@gmail.com - Mkini