I was not born in a tree. I was born in a cavity between two slabs of curing concrete, in the small accidental darkness where rainwater had once hesitated and then withdrawn. The sea was close enough for its salt to crust on the edges of metal rods. The traffic below was still learning its daily impatience. Above me, the sky was an unclaimed property, blue and excessive. When I first opened my eyes, the world was already vertical. We crows do not inherit nostalgia. We inherit edges. The city of Mumbai has always been a map of ledges to us, a layered grammar of cornices, balconies, water tanks, telephone wires, and parapets where heat gathers in the afternoon like a slow thought…

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To read the full story and 19 other short stories in this series click on the links below:

This story is part of the book Unknown Companions, my second printed collection of short stories, bringing together twenty quiet encounters between well-known Indians and the animals who moved through their lives.

These stories do not revisit achievement. They turn toward the smaller presences history rarely records: a dog waiting at a doorway, a bird crossing a garden, a stray who appears at an unexpected hour. In such moments, reputation falls silent and a different kind of companionship becomes visible.

Rooted in real lives and shaped by the quiet crossings between humans and animals, this collection gathers the unnoticed companions who stood briefly beside lives that history remembers for other reasons.

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If you have found something here that stayed with you, some of my other books (collection of short stories, novels, and more) are now available in print and digital editions. They gather many unique journeys, quieter questions, and stories that continue beyond this page.