The whole village heard the loud flapping wings of the giant bird and ran out to ascertain its actual size. Everyone must have thought the world is coming to an abrupt end on seeing the weird looking bird. Even the best hunters in the village haven’t seen a bird of that size though it was still gliding very high to make a fair judgment. When it started swooping down very fast with the sound of the wings getting unnaturally loud, people started screaming fearing the whole village would be eaten up by the strange bird.
Only some stand their ground staying where they were, and I was among the few who were mesmerized thinking that it indeed was a very weird and huge bird when it was just about three hundred feet above. The appearance of the bird as expected was considered a bad bad omen. Luckily, no one was carried away as the bird simply passed over the village and glides up high again in the air. Someone shouted, ‘look the bird is wounded.’
The elders suggested some of us should follow the bird and find out where it is heading and where it is going to perch on. Most of us knew that the bird won’t fly far as it seem to be wounded badly and also looked like it got singed in a wild mountain fire.
Before we all were able to decide what to do next, there was a very loud sound of thunder. It was very strange, stranger than the huge bird itself, as the sky was very clear with no streaks of cloud visible that day. On a hillock, not far from the village smoke started rising and then fire broke out burning the dry winter grassland. Someone in the crowd shouted again, ‘that’s where the big bird went down.’
The whole village ran to the spot forgetting the initial fear. Lo, we saw a burnt featherless bird with a charred human body inside. Initially everyone assumed the person inside could have been picked up from some village to be eaten by the giant bird. Yeah, it took us years to know that the huge bird was called a bomber plane and the man inside was the pilot. Those of us who out of shock suggested the plane could be a bird later on become the laughing stocks. No hard feelings; ignorance indeed is both a bliss and a joke.
We buried the pilot, dismantled the plane and divided its parts and brought them home as souvenirs. I got a sturdy metal pipe that I use as straw to sip rice beer later in life. Maybe, I was given that small pipe knowing I won’t complain being one of the youngest in the group. However, I feel fortunate as the pipe become so meaningful to me when I grew up. Others who got bigger pieces never found the purpose to use their artifacts.
This is about what happened somewhere in 1942-1944: The time when both Japanese bomber planes and planes of the Allied Forces pop up in the Naga Hills. Two planes crashed on Sihai Phangrei Hillock very close to Sihai Khullen Village my birthplace.
Note: This is what my grandpa would have blogged if blogging was a fashion during his times. I dedicate this post to my late grandpa.
Only some stand their ground staying where they were, and I was among the few who were mesmerized thinking that it indeed was a very weird and huge bird when it was just about three hundred feet above. The appearance of the bird as expected was considered a bad bad omen. Luckily, no one was carried away as the bird simply passed over the village and glides up high again in the air. Someone shouted, ‘look the bird is wounded.’The elders suggested some of us should follow the bird and find out where it is heading and where it is going to perch on. Most of us knew that the bird won’t fly far as it seem to be wounded badly and also looked like it got singed in a wild mountain fire.
Before we all were able to decide what to do next, there was a very loud sound of thunder. It was very strange, stranger than the huge bird itself, as the sky was very clear with no streaks of cloud visible that day. On a hillock, not far from the village smoke started rising and then fire broke out burning the dry winter grassland. Someone in the crowd shouted again, ‘that’s where the big bird went down.’
The whole village ran to the spot forgetting the initial fear. Lo, we saw a burnt featherless bird with a charred human body inside. Initially everyone assumed the person inside could have been picked up from some village to be eaten by the giant bird. Yeah, it took us years to know that the huge bird was called a bomber plane and the man inside was the pilot. Those of us who out of shock suggested the plane could be a bird later on become the laughing stocks. No hard feelings; ignorance indeed is both a bliss and a joke.
We buried the pilot, dismantled the plane and divided its parts and brought them home as souvenirs. I got a sturdy metal pipe that I use as straw to sip rice beer later in life. Maybe, I was given that small pipe knowing I won’t complain being one of the youngest in the group. However, I feel fortunate as the pipe become so meaningful to me when I grew up. Others who got bigger pieces never found the purpose to use their artifacts.
This is about what happened somewhere in 1942-1944: The time when both Japanese bomber planes and planes of the Allied Forces pop up in the Naga Hills. Two planes crashed on Sihai Phangrei Hillock very close to Sihai Khullen Village my birthplace.
Note: This is what my grandpa would have blogged if blogging was a fashion during his times. I dedicate this post to my late grandpa.
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