Setting:
Two friends, Ali and Bilal, are sitting on the rooftop of Ali’s house in Lahore, sipping chai in the evening while enjoying the breeze and the sound of distant honking and kids playing cricket.
Ali (superstitious):
(He looks up suddenly as a crow starts cawing loudly from a nearby tree)
Oye Bilal! Did you hear that? That crow’s going mad with its cawing. Mark my words — someone’s about to show up. It always happens.
Bilal (rational thinker):
(chuckles)
Yaar, Ali, not this again. The last time you said that, no one came. You even made tea for “guests” who never showed up!
Ali:
But that was just one time! Most of the time, someone does come. Like last week — remember when phuppo (aunt) showed up unannounced? The crow was screaming like it saw a ghost.
Bilal:
Okay, let’s pause there. Did the crow predict phuppo’s arrival? Or was the crow just being a crow, and phuppo showed up coincidentally?
Ali:
Coincidence? Bhai, it’s always crows, not sparrows or pigeons. There’s something special about them. They know.
Bilal:
Crows are loud, social birds. They caw for all kinds of reasons — maybe they’re warning each other about danger, or fighting over food, or just gossiping. You ever hear crows at a wedding hall? Chaos.
Ali:
That may be true, but you can’t ignore patterns. Our dadi (grandmother) always used to say, “Kawa bolay, mehmaan aa’ay.” Old wisdom doesn’t come from nowhere.
Bilal:
Yes, dadi also used to say, “Don’t cut nails after sunset,” and that if your right eye twitches, something good will happen. You really think your nails know what time it is?
Ali:
Don’t diss dadi’s logic, okay? She lived to be 92.
Bilal:
She lived long because she ate fresh food and climbed stairs every day — not because she waited for crows to announce her guests.
Ali:
(smiling) Fine, Mr. Scientist. But what if I told you that every time we ran out of sugar, I’d heard a crow cawing the day before?
Bilal:
And did the crow eat your sugar too? Maybe it’s running a secret rationing service.
Ali:
Hey, now that would explain the missing biscuits too.
Bilal:
Exactly — maybe the crows are just freeloaders, not prophets. Look, I get it — we all like patterns. It makes life feel more predictable. But hearing a crow doesn’t cause guests to arrive. That’s like saying sneezing makes rain fall.
Ali:
Okay, but how do you explain the timing? Crows caw, and ten minutes later, someone knocks. That can’t be random.
Bilal:
It can be. It’s called confirmation bias. You remember the hits, and forget the misses. How many times have crows cawed and nobody came? Tons! But your brain doesn’t store that.
Ali:
Hmm. That makes some sense, but I still feel like they know something. Like little feathery spies.
Bilal:
(laughs) Ali, if crows had intelligence networks, they’d be charging rent for the trees by now.
Ali:
Or maybe they already do. We just don’t speak “caw.”
Bilal:
Then it’s time for a new app: “Crow Translate — Know Your Guest ETA.”
Ali:
Don’t tempt me! I’ll pitch it to your startup team. “CrowPredict™ — Never be surprised by a knock again!”
Bilal:
(laughing) Okay okay, fine. If someone does show up in the next ten minutes, I’ll admit you might be onto something. But if not, you owe me a plate of samosas.
Ali:
Deal. But if they do come, you’re serving chai. Extra sugar.
(Ten minutes pass. No one shows up. The crow is gone. The only knock is Ali’s little cousin asking if he has his cricket bat.)
Bilal:
Well? Still believe in the crow code?
Ali:
…Maybe the crow got stuck in traffic. Lahore roads, you know.
Bilal:
(grinning) Or maybe — just maybe — it was being a normal bird.
Ali:
Ugh, fine. Let’s just eat the samosas anyway.
[END SCENE]
Friendly teasing, light skepticism, and the warm embrace of everyday desi humor — even the crows would caw in approval.
Science Vs Superstition 
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