A candid view at the plight of chickens and the role of man in the equation
Bird flu, the deadly epidemic that has infected millions of fowls (specially chickens) across Asia and is inexorably on the rise. The glorious rooster with his mane all puffed and erect walks a proud gait, followed by demure hens and playful chicks, the source of commodious forms of income for various people and holding immense culinary satisfaction and gourmet fascination.
Where do we start from? Chicken wings, cut ups, thighs, ribs, neck, drumsticks even the feet beget a good price if marketed slickly in containers with loud nutritional benefits, stacked on the shelves and icy freezers of top-of-the-line super marts, or throats slashed and body parts cut and shoved in polythene bags.
How does one justify the injustices that cruel humans extend towards these birds, who against their will are packed in primitive, unsanitary iron cages which are already crowded to the maximum limit? How can they produce the glorified egg in such pitiable, horrific conditions? The keeper, most repulsive and gross, always trespasses on the chickens’ feelings without any knowledge or acumen about the complex anatomy of the wondrous bird, sharpens knives and begin to chop, cut, slice and dice their flesh in the most unlikely ways. The only knowledge being to dice the flesh in cubes, which in their vocabulary is called “Chinese boti” and an extra Rs10 is enough to execute this command. On the contrary, the finesse with which a Chinese chef would have crafted chicken cubes, marinated chicken wings, crumbled the drumsticks and seasoned the succulent chicken breasts could be compared to the manoeuvring of a music maestro creating a symphony. An absolute contrast to what fate the humble chickens meet at the barbaric hands of the chickenwalla.
A wise man so aptly commented that if a dove is a bird of paradise then a chicken is the gift of God befitting the table of lords. As the rich man feasts and retires to bed, the minions rejoice and feel like their lord till the time the remains of this succulent bird are present in their digestive tracks, rounded off by occasional burping. A meal most enjoyed.
But then the elite extend a much civilized attitude and perform all the rights. Shelves, freezers and cold-storages of supermarkets in posh areas are a great morale booster. The area spic and span and blasts of cool air coming out of split units. What a mind-blowing contrast to the cages/pens that resemble prison cells. No fear of claustrophobia or high altitudes. The elite actually refer to chickens as a living things that breathe, pant, scratch and are always eager to satisfy at all occasions — both benevolent and dismal. Same can be said for the five-star hotel chefs who, with a passion for cooking, treat each and every limb with utmost care. After pampering the flesh with a sprinkling of this, a dash of that, a dollop of sauce, a pinch of exquisite seasoning, they transform the plain chicken into a heavenly dish. If alive, it would give a tremendous boost to the egos of chickens to be cooked in the pan and served imperially on the dinner plate as a palate teaser.
Chickens demand respect and just like there is Women’s Day, Children’s Day, Valentine’s Day, there should be Chickens’ Day. The irony is that as a nation, we have fallen into the ritual of neglecting the basic and pristine rights of one another. These days are celebrated as a reminder that our perpetual neglection towards each other can be cast away on these marked days, while the rest of the year we can continue to keep on ignoring them — with no stabs on our consciousness.
But chickens carry on serving humans selflessly. They are the choicest selection — from chicken tikka to chicken biryani — for all functions, both sad and happy, and served with a smile.
As if this inhuman behaviour wasn’t enough, another grave calamity for the poor chickens has now struck them in the form of the bird flu that is inexorably spreading to all parts of the world. The eleven million birds culled has left chicken pens isolated. The rumour mill quickly hit high altitude and government officials did their bit by vaccinating, slaughtering or by simply issuing bold statements such as “Chicken meat is safe for human consumption.”
At least some showed character by sharing in the grief, as chickens had served as their favourite morsels. The electronic and print media carried the alarming news of millions of chickens being disposed off in dumps — the live ones squawking with sheer terror at their impending fate. But as we look back, after every storm there is a calm, and one day the flu scare will come to an end.
Nevertheless, the relationship between chickens and humans is now on a more compassionate level. The current wave of the death and destruction of chickens will one day be over they will again reign supreme. Their succulent flesh will once again satisfy the gastronomic passion of man. The bond between chicken and man is simply unbreakable and everlasting.
A candid view at the plight of chickens and the role of man in the equation 
