Resistance Chickens



 Resistance Chickens


Grandpa used to say to us that those who do not eat good food have to take bad medicine. He himself was such a great believer in the treatment of diseases through food that he believed in treating every disease only through food. He hardly ever went to the doctor. Some of his friends were doctors, he would only go to them to smoke cigarettes. Once or twice, if he went to get an injection, he would tighten his muscles in the name of wrestling (i.e. bodybuilding) so that the doctor's needle could not go in, then he would tell such stories to everyone.


Grandma once had an accident, her ribs were broken, so Grandpa treated her at home.


I asked Grandma in surprise:

What was it?


She said, old man's mince, chapap and patta stew and desi chicken broth.


I was again surprised: Grandma, how can ribs be connected with this?


 Well, he said that he also made some ointments at home, but the emphasis was on treatment through food.


His own profession was as a soldier, in the Punjab Police. However, the proximity of the Mohalla Hakeem in Delhi had the effect that the policemen had become fewer and the Hakeems more.


Desi chicken was once a routine in our house, then after the arrival of junk food, or "Kabaad Khana" in plain Urdu, and broilers and the children liked it, there was such a rush of junk food that the desi chicken gradually disappeared from our table. With the passage of time, we realized that our bones needed strength and our body needed strength, so we became obsessed with finding strong, healthy and authentic desi chicken.


We bought pedigree chicks from somewhere and raised the chickens ourselves. The house was rented, we lived downstairs and the landlord lived upstairs. Six hens and one ugly rooster, the last crowing was at twelve o'clock at night and the first crowing was at four in the morning, so we only got two to three hours of sleep a night. And before the landlord kicked us out of the house, we took the hens out of their crates one by one, offered half to the landlord and ate the other half.


After that, we wasted money on Egyptian or hybrid chickens, which are sold as native, but due to dissatisfaction with their genetic makeup and mental maturity, we could not keep them for long.


 We believe that a chicken should be one that eats insects, grains, and chews, lives its own life, can peck at will, can be a leader and a leader, can be an opinion leader of two or four chickens, and can fly and escape when bad times come. 


We have discussions on these topics with the butcher who sells broiler chickens behind our house. During one such conversation, this good-natured man pointed to the white chickens piled up in front of the open door of the cage, like cotton cheeks, and said: "Grandpa, what will she do to you if she cannot walk and save her own life?" 


Saying this, he pounced on a lazy and lazy chicken sitting in the cage and recited Takbir over it. This chicken had no zest for life, no desire to survive, no desire to save. With the same malice that she was alive, with the same malice that she hung upside down in the chimney of the slaughterhouse with her neck severed.

My heart sank.

I thought, I too have become like this after eating chicken devoid of such emotions, resistance and pride in the name of protein.


We go to the office, work, come home, eat broiler chicken, read a book, and go to sleep after watching Facebook reels. Friends, children, parents, husbands, bosses - we do not react to anyone's words. There is no such thing as resistance left in life, and differences of opinion are gradually disappearing. 

Whatever day it says is called day, whatever night it says is called night, you are also right. 


I spit on such a life.


If we live like this, we will die.


If there is no fear of increasing cholesterol by eating yak (a mountain ox found in Gilgit-Baltistan) meat, then we should also grow horns by eating its pieces every day.

What a pity! 


 In such a situation, through our brother-in-law, we met a type of chicken, 

cockerel

"Kakral." 

I have heard that in Punjab they are called pathe. 

Not owl's, but chicken's pathe. 

Earlier, they were probably eaten more, but now this type is rare in cities. Only those who are enthusiasts keep them in their homes, that is, those whose mind and day are spent all day searching for local, organic food like us. 

Cockerel is actually a young, young male chicken that attracts people by crowing on the threshold of puberty. Its crowing is as mature as a rooster's, not its appearance, zero experience, full of enthusiasm, since the strength of early youth does not allow it to settle down, so it often adopts an aggressive and rebellious attitude. I believe that a halal animal should be killed and eaten before its resistance increases, if it hatches later, the unlucky one does not get it. 

 Thus ended our search and in the winter we started waiting for this special breed of young rooster.


Now when the cockerel or the patte comes to the house, it is like Eid. If the entire set of spices is available, they are tied with a hundred colors. 

Since the onset of winter, six resistance birds have been eaten so far, but still the flame of resistance has not ignited in the heart. This time we will build a big cage on our own land, along with a small house for ourselves so that we can raise the real resistance chicken under our supervision and when the time comes, we can drink its broth because only good food will save us from bad medicine.


Written by 

Quratul Ain Haider 

#urduadab

#Prose

#Inspirations 

#Pakistan

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