Poultry

As late as the early sixties, barter was still a common practice even among the townsfolk who saw a remarkable influx of villagers on a daily basis. Even a practising paediatrician like my father had to be part of this network, to my mother’s total dismay. How many times did a grateful patient leave a live chicken on his desk for services rendered! What ensued was a flurried chicken chase and a flutter of feathers after which the sweaty maidservant, adept at such manoeuvres, would carry the perplexed bird to the neighbour across the street who, like a good Muslim, slaughtered the animals according to the ritual procedures of halal. For many years I believed that chickens, rabbits, lambs, and such gifts as my father received by way of remuneration, belonged to the Muslim faith. To add confusion to ignorance, our maidservant, not especially noted for being clever, convinced me that our neighbour had lost his leg because the ghosts of the dead chicken had picked at it for so many nights that he had been left with only one leg and that he would soon lose the other if the neighbourhood kept turning to him for this serial slaughtering.