Every afternoon at around 12.30, a flock of pigeons cover the sky over the Indian Express building. Simultaneously you hear a skinny man standing on a temple terrace, calling out to the birds, whistling to them and gesturing wildly. The pigeons almost instinctively know when to return and when to fly back. The entire spectacle lasts for almost an hour and is repeated every day.
The man in question is Madan Lal, a temple priest at the Valmiki mandir in Kotla. He says he has been practising kabootarbaazi for 40 years, an art he picked up from his father. Kabootarbaazi was once associated with royalty. The Mughals and the Nawabs of Awadh indulged in the art of racing pigeons as a pastime. Primarily prevalent in Delhi, Agra and Lucknow, the exponents of this art is now a dying breed.
It's a rare sight today and that's why we walk up the mandir stairs to meet this kabootarbaaz. Madan Lal flaunts his collection of 50-60 pigeons. His pigeons are not the plump grey-blue ones sitting on rooftops. They are instead bred for speed. Bought from Agra and Lucknow, the birds are exotic both in physique and colour. From the brown jarad, the pony-tailed black chotidaar to the white tailed kabuli, Madan Lal keeps them all and loves them like his "children".
His brother is sitting in one corner making "aatte ki goli"with ghee and almond water as Madan Lal shows his favourite pigeon of them all. All white with colourful tiny bangles (baane) tied on his feet; Masakkali is a slender necked, arrogant looking pretty pigeon. His feet are tied so that he doesn't fly away. A price he has to pay for being his keeper's favourite.
In between sips of tea, Madan Lal tells us that these pretty birds cost something between Rs.200- Rs.7000. "I have never sold my pigeons and I never will." he says firmly.
All the pigeons have been fed and they have had their share of freedom for the day and are ready to return to their home, a huge green coloured cage lying on the terrace. Some rebel, hop and fly a little and reluctantly follow their peers, except one. Its then that Madan Lal brings out a pair of brown jarad pigeons, kept away from the rest as the female-pigeon is pregnant. The male pigeon walks protectively around her, bobbing his head as he escorts her back to their resting place. "Yeh bezubaan hai magar phir bhi kitna pyaar dikhta hai (They can't talk but they still manage to show so much love)", says Madan Lal.
We climb down the stairs and promise Madan Lal photographs of his pigeons. He smiles returning to that one pigeon who longs to be free.
The man in question is Madan Lal, a temple priest at the Valmiki mandir in Kotla. He says he has been practising kabootarbaazi for 40 years, an art he picked up from his father. Kabootarbaazi was once associated with royalty. The Mughals and the Nawabs of Awadh indulged in the art of racing pigeons as a pastime. Primarily prevalent in Delhi, Agra and Lucknow, the exponents of this art is now a dying breed.
It's a rare sight today and that's why we walk up the mandir stairs to meet this kabootarbaaz. Madan Lal flaunts his collection of 50-60 pigeons. His pigeons are not the plump grey-blue ones sitting on rooftops. They are instead bred for speed. Bought from Agra and Lucknow, the birds are exotic both in physique and colour. From the brown jarad, the pony-tailed black chotidaar to the white tailed kabuli, Madan Lal keeps them all and loves them like his "children".
His brother is sitting in one corner making "aatte ki goli"with ghee and almond water as Madan Lal shows his favourite pigeon of them all. All white with colourful tiny bangles (baane) tied on his feet; Masakkali is a slender necked, arrogant looking pretty pigeon. His feet are tied so that he doesn't fly away. A price he has to pay for being his keeper's favourite.
In between sips of tea, Madan Lal tells us that these pretty birds cost something between Rs.200- Rs.7000. "I have never sold my pigeons and I never will." he says firmly.
All the pigeons have been fed and they have had their share of freedom for the day and are ready to return to their home, a huge green coloured cage lying on the terrace. Some rebel, hop and fly a little and reluctantly follow their peers, except one. Its then that Madan Lal brings out a pair of brown jarad pigeons, kept away from the rest as the female-pigeon is pregnant. The male pigeon walks protectively around her, bobbing his head as he escorts her back to their resting place. "Yeh bezubaan hai magar phir bhi kitna pyaar dikhta hai (They can't talk but they still manage to show so much love)", says Madan Lal.
We climb down the stairs and promise Madan Lal photographs of his pigeons. He smiles returning to that one pigeon who longs to be free.
(This article was written along with Somya Lakhani)
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