Hello and welcome to Edlyo Lofts -- the home of some of my very

good friends, my pigeons, sorry RACING PIGEONS.

How it all began

It all started when I was about six years old at our Curley Street home in Richmond Town, Bangalore. My mother (Jubilia Thomas), an animal and bird lover herself, cajoled my dad (Thomas Abraham) into buying me a pair of white pigeons at our church auction (Wesley Tamil Church, Ashoknagar, Bangalore). This was in the year 1976. We had kept chicken at home and at six I knew all about the chicken and the egg. Our hens laid us our eggs and we even hatched our own chicks. Yes, times were good then. Rice was cooked on firewood and aapams were made out of earthern pans. It tasted much better than our cooker version of rice and gas-cooked apologies for aapams -- or dosais for than matter.

Started young

Keeping the pair of white pigeons in the spare hen coop helped for some time. But soon, the birds moulted their feathers and promptly one of them took off to it's home -- my first experience of the homing instinct. The church assistant (koil pillai Dhanapal) was pressed into service and he head out and got the bird back for me. The bird, in a few days, went back again. Dhanapal got it back again. But the next time this happened, the earlier owners, probably irritated with the ritual, told us the bird hadn't come back. The wailing began and tantrums ruled and this time round dad was pressed into service to go to Russel Market in Shivajinagar, Bangalore, to buy me another pigeon. The darling that he was, he bought me two. A white cock bird and a red hen. These two decided to neglect the other white bird and started a family. A dark checker grizzle with red splashes was the product of their efforts and this smashing good looking bird was called All Colours by seven-year-old me. This was my first homing pigeon for all practical purposes. I used to take him about 200 meters away, let him go, and try and race him back home. Soon the red hen and my cousin Richard Ravikumar joined the drag and the four of us had as much fun as two kids with two birds could have.

My Friend Murali

When I was 14 (1984), we changed houses and moved to Wind Tunnel Road near the HAL Airport. I took my birds with me. I had started keeping a few tumblers. And in an experiment to breed big wattled tumblers, my friend Murali and I picked up a few homers. A lot happened at this point of time. On the one hand our experiment to breed big wattled tumblers failed miserably, and on the other our grades at school too were slipping. Cricket took away a lot of my time and girls suddenly seemed an interesting species. To top this some of our birds got stolen. A conscious decision was taken -- I told myself that I would start keeping pigeons only after I was `settled' in life. Murali and I, we gave away our pigeons in the year 1986 (age 16) and instead of studies gave the girls our complete attention, at least I did. That didn't help grades any. But what kept us smiling was the occassional homing pigeon that kept coming back home. I made a solemn promise to them that next time there'll be no parting.

Uncle Henry

Ten years later, in the year 1996, I did three things -- I got married; I got myself a 500 cc Bullet; and I got myself some homing pigeons (not necessarily in that order).

I had joined The Times of India in the year 1994 as a part-timer. And in the year 1996, I got my letter of confirmation. No sooner did I get it in my hand the same evening I went to my uncle's place -- Mr RMP Pandian, my chithappa, had some pigeons -- and got myself a pair. They were ordinary birds but loved to breed.

1996 was also the year The Times of India took to the Internet (finally). After work my good friend Arun and I would surf the Nett. Keying in 'Racing Pigeons' opened a whole new world to me. What stuck was the pictures of these pigeons and I recognised birds I had seen 16 years ago at a certain Uncle Henry's place in Tirunelvelli.

In the year 1980, I had gone to Tirunelvelli to attend a relative's wedding. After church one day, we visited this person, who was later introduced to me as Uncle Henry, a distant relative and my mom's schoolmate. (My mother for some reason called him Chellam annan). Those days, I always walked around with a catapult. Uncle henry on seeing this instrument around my neck asked me if I liked to hunt. I said yes. He then asked me if I'd like to see some guns and went on to show me some amazing weapons. I looked and liked. Then, he asked me if I had any pets. I said yes and rattled off all that I had -- white mice, guinea pigs, rabbits, lovebirds, parrots, dogs, monkey, java sparrows, chicken and pigeons. At the mention of pigeons he asked me if I wanted to see some pigeons. I nodded and he took me to his back yard and went up to a huge box that looked more like a chicken coop and opened a small trap... and out they came, one after the other like bullets from an automatic weapon. They soon filled the sky, diving and flying in formation but at great speed. "Homing pigeons," he told me.

The Net brought back that image to me. When I came home in the middle of that lucky night the net opened this world to me I woke my my mother, who was fast asleep, and asked her if she had 'that uncle's' contact details. She said she didn't. I didn't rest, I got the contact of the relative whose daughter's wedding we had attended (Uncle Jeyaseelan, also called Jeyam). I left for Tirunelveli soon after and met uncle Jeyaseelan. He told me he knew where Uncle Henry lived. Soon I was standing at Uncle Henry's doorstep.

Uncle Henry could well have been a TN version of Colonel Smith (you'll hear of him soon). He didn't smile when he opened the door; neither did he look very welcoming. In fact he seemed angry someone had rung his bell. I stood my ground, speaking as I smiled my 'historical' connect with him. He remebered my mother and slowly as the pieces dopped in place, his door opened, mirroring his heart. Post this he was warmth personified. He showed me his birds. Every feather I saw there I wanted. He gave me none.

He however told me that he would give me young birds later, after I came back to Bangalore and gave away the mixed bag I had at my place. I rushed back almost Immediately. Cleaned up my loft and a month later was back at Tirunelvelli for my first set of thourough bred, pedigreed racing pigeons.

On this trip, Uncle Henry also gave me the name and a number for Colonel Smith. He told me that he had heard of this man who had some great homing pigeons and also was part of a racing club, he said. This single act along with his birds was to relaunch my passion with our feathered friends into a new orbit!