Kindness Beyond Ritual

“What's the point of Kag Puja, if you throw stones at them?” This was the same question I asked my grandfather after he scolded me for throwing stones away multiple times. I added, “What if someone threw stones the same way you do to them?”

He didn’t answer me right away. Instead, he looked away, like the question had followed him somewhere he didn’t want to go. That small moment stayed with me. Kag puja, after all, is meant to honour crows. We call them messengers, believing they carry blessings and symbols of connections between the living and those who came before us. On that day, they are welcomed, respected, and even celebrated. Yet on ordinary days, the same birds are often treated as pests, chased away with irritation, sometimes with stones.

I always stood confused. How could something be sacred one morning and a nuisance the next day? If we believe crows hold spiritual meaning, why does that belief disappear so quickly? On the morning of Tihar, my grandfather would wake up early and prepare a leaf plate with grains and small sweets. His actions were sincere. He would light incense, bow his head, and place the offering outside with quiet devotion. On that day, the crow is not just a bird; it is a guest, a symbol, something worthy of kindness.

But by the next morning, the tone would shift. The crows were no longer special. Their cawing became 'noise'. Their presence became ‘annoying’. If one came too close, my grandfather would wave his hand or reach for a small stone.

My grandfather finally muttered, “They always make too much noise, steal food, and kill babies of other birds”. He was justifying his actions through the bird’s natural survival instincts. I realised that sometimes traditions stay, but the meaning behind them fades. We perform the ritual with precision, yet we let the underlying lessons slip through our fingers like sand.

That day, I began to understand something larger. Traditions can remain strong, but their meaning quietly fades away. We continue rituals because they are familiar, because they are part of our culture. Yet sometimes we forget the deeper lessons they were meant to carry. Kag Puja is not just about feeding crows for a day. It’s about remembering that we share the world with other living beings. It is about acknowledging coexistence. It is about humility, patience, and compassion towards other living beings.

If we only show kindness when the calendar tells us to, is it truly kindness, or is it just social performance? The crow doesn't know it is a "messenger" on Tuesday and a "nuisance" on Wednesday. It only experiences human behaviour, the hand that feeds and the hand that strikes.

That day, I did not argue anymore. My grandfather still brings stones, while I secretly throw it away when he is not around and keep watching them. They still come, cautious but hopeful, hopping closer for grains of rice or anything that will be provided. And I wondered, maybe the real puja is not the food we offer once a year, but the kindness we choose on ordinary days when no one is watching. If respect is genuine, it should not be seasonal. Compassion should not need a specific date.