Meow is a weird cat who is friends with crows.
Whenever she opens her mouth for a small ball of rice, it is most certainly because the previous ball was gobbled down by one of her crow friends. It is a ritual, one ball for the crow and one ball for Meow.
Her crow friends are respected so much for making our lives relatively easy (ask any parent who has a two year old on how they feel while making them eat) that we have a dining table designed for them in the yard (See scene 1 in picture). The stump of our old coconut tree.
This morning, there was so much of rice left over form last night that I decided to add some spices to it, make Cheetos sized balls and set it out for drying in the sun. Once dry it is fried to make vadams, a South Indian delicacy. (See scene 2). My grandmother is very orthodox even when it comes to shooing crows from feeding on these. She leaves a torn, unopened black umbrella exclusively meant to serve this purpose, beside the plate. Little does she know that the crows of today have grown a resistance to her rusty tactics, much like Meow herself.
Meow came down when I was making balls out of the rice, pointed at one of those and said, “Kaka buvva” (crow food). The only-my-daughter-is-a-genius mother in me enthusiastically nodded to her recollection of the rice balls we fed to the crows.
Five minutes later there was a lot of “caw”ing in the front yard. You guessed it right, she assumed I was throwing a feast for her friends and set the whole plate up on their dining table(See scene 3). I so wanted to slightly spank her nicely padded butt.
Then I realized it would be hypocritical.
I asked her, “Meow, what have you done?”
She was so overwhelmed by the turn out for the feast; jumped up and down yelling “Kakka buvva, kakka buvva!!!”