Kaakaardesh, an isolated island in the Bay of Bengal, was infamous for its overwhelming population of crows. The island, barren and desolate, was dominated by the house crow and raven—two species that had long adjusted to living among human settlements. However, despite their vast numbers, the house crows lived under the oppressive rule of the so-called "Mohakaak" —ravens who governed with an iron beak for over a hundred years.
Then came the Great Crow Revolution. For generations, the ravens hoarded the best nesting spots and controlled the food supply while claiming a divine right to rule. But discontent simmered beneath their black feathers. When a faction of disillusioned ravens formed an unlikely alliance with the house crows, rebellion took flight. The once-oppressed house crows, armed with street smarts, turned every rooftop and powerline into a battlefield. Feathers flew, beaks clashed, and the sky of Kaakaardesh was filled with deafening caws of resistance.
Whispers spread that external forces—Eagleland and Hawkland—had a hand in this uprising, offering covert support and, more importantly, a promise of endless rice. The faction of disillusioned ravens, known for their cunning, saw an opportunity. Secret meetings were held in the dead of night. Emissaries from Eagleland and Hawkland strategized alongside them, while Hawkland’s sharp-eyed scouts provided reconnaissance. It was clear—this revolution was not entirely homegrown.
With the rebellion in full swing, the old regime fell. The Mohakaki—self-proclaimed supreme leader—did what all esteemed leaders do in crisis: he grabbed his closest allies and flapped straight to Vultureland, seeking sanctuary among the most opportunistic of scavengers.
But victory did not bring harmony. Kaakaardesh descended into chaos. The house crows, who had once fought for freedom, suddenly found themselves a minority in their own government. A handful of aged, cunning ravens took control, aligning themselves with their old friends from Vultureland, Eagleland, and Hawkland. Instead of governing independently, they took orders from their former allies, now their puppet masters.
New policies, dictated by external forces, brought nothing but hardship. Food shortages, disappearances, and widespread misery became the new norm. However, the raven-led government had an all-encompassing response: security reasons. Any crow who dared to question was met with a dismissive wave of a wing—"It’s all for your safety."
Amidst the turmoil, a small group of intellectual house crows debated whether the revolution had been worth it. They had fought for self-rule, but instead, they found themselves under a different form of subjugation. Meanwhile, in Vultureland, the mighty scavengers had bigger plans—crow manipulation on an industrial scale. Their goal? To install the Mohakaki’s handpicked successor on the throne of Kaakaardesh. Democracy, after all, was highly overrated when vultures could do the choosing.
However, despite relentless propaganda, hypnotic cawing sessions, and an extensive "How to Think Like a Vulture" programme, the house crows proved annoyingly resistant. Some even dared to ask inconvenient questions: “Why should we listen to vultures?” and “Isn’t this just the same nonsense in different feathers?” Clearly, a crisis was unfolding.
Desperate, the vultures turned to a self-proclaimed strategist named Kaaktaal. Summoned to Vultureland’s grand council, Kaaktaal listened as the scavengers lamented their struggles. Then, adjusting his spectacles with an air of wisdom, he delivered one of history’s simplest yet most profound truths:
“Scatter some rice, and the house crows will never be in short supply.”
Silence fell upon the chamber. The vultures, seasoned manipulators, blinked in astonishment. Could it really be that easy? Had they wasted their time on elaborate mind games when all they needed was… rice? A wicked grin spread across the Vulture King’s hooked beak.
Kaaktaal, smirking, knew the answer. Some birds needed years of strategy to control a kingdom. Others just needed a handful of rice.