The hawk spread
its wings, and the rabbit cowed. Such a scene is a marvellous setting for a
pictorial rendition. In reality, though, it evokes a sense of trepidation and turmoil.
The rabbit scampers but the hawk swoops. The rabbit caught in its talons, the
hawk soars in the sky. And soars higher and farther … till it reaches its den.
The rabbit mortified but yet alive, shrivelled but yet puling , looking through
its pleading, nay resigned eyes towards its purveyor of impending death. Will the hawk mellow or delay? The right
question is whether it will abandon its instincts. A hardened and long look from the hawk on the
rabbit. The hawk moves its head ever so slightly; the rabbit understands; it
stoops its head as if in submission; the hawk accepts the offering; the long beak
pierces the soft epidermis on the rabbit’s neck; the rabbit whimpers and then
ululates, but in a matter of 10 seconds, it lolls forward desiccated of energy
and so-called life. The hawk swallows, feasts and satiates; it looks around the
surroundings and presently soars again into the sky against the cerulean and
into the oblivion, with keen eyes looking down till everything fades from
sight.
