The Curious Case of Jerry Sultan!

One of the most interesting missing cases I have experienced over the years of telepathic interspecies communication is the story of Jerry, the African Grey parrot.

This is how it goes.

Jerry’s companion and guardian called me in a panic one July afternoon to inform that his beloved bird was missing. Usually, there is a system that I follow with clients, to avoid future complications or miscommunication regarding the do’s and don’ts’ of taking up a case. I briefed him on the same and promptly began communicating with his beloved Jerry.

Jerry had flown out of the living room window while his human companion was cleaning the cage. He was a talkative, happy African Grey, about one year old.

What usually happens in missing cases is that we communicators receive important /crucial information or details much later, often when the case has begun and the family is waiting for answer. That’s when it becomes clear whether the animal wants to return or not. A detailed conversation takes place with the animal, after which they guide us humans on whether they really wish to come back or whether their soul journey with the family has ended and a new chapter is ready to begin.

Jerry conveyed something similar to me.

He said he was having a gala time indoors with another family, where the spoken language was different from the one he and his original human companion shared before he flew away. This was right in the middle of July in Mumbai, a time when the monsoon rains usually decide to throw tantrums and dance to their own tunes.

However, Jerry’s human companion refused to stop looking for him. Consistently, every morning at 6 a.m., he stepped out with a backpack and some pistachios, Jerry’s favourite food, which he mentioned to me several times. He searched the gullies of Mumbai, shops, and schools, all of which Jerry kept indicating during his communications with me. The main information he kept sharing was- He did not want to return ! Explaining something so personal and intangible to someone who is heartbroken after losing a beloved pet is a  delicate and vulnerable space to be in. I conveyed this to Jerry’s human with gentleness and care, intending only to offer comfort, but it was not received in the way I had hoped.

By mid-August, the human companion printed a newspaper article about Jerry’s disappearance. Two other communicators and I were mentioned in the article! Personally, I do not proceed with any communication or readings unless I am given clarity on certain things. The reason is that we are a close-knit community of communicators and often interact together on cases via a common WhatsApp group.

Our intention is to be a medium and to convey information from the animal to their family. However, in panic situations, families often go on a “communicator shopping spree,” leaving no stone unturned.  

Understanding this, I messaged on our group, about the case, and suggested that one of us should take centre stage so the human could be at peace and the information Jerry shared could be properly channelled.

By the end of August, after much thought, I stepped out of the case and allowed Jerry to choose the communicator through whom he wanted the interactions to continue.

Even then, Jerry kept communicating with me, repeatedly sending what felt like unmissable headlines! “It’s not time to return.” He also mentioned, “I am really happy here. Let my human live his life his way and not worry about me. Tell him I am okay.”

Jerry sounded incredibly mature and wise, almost like a grandpa.

Time passed, and it began raining again. One heavy, stormy August day, Jerry suddenly popped into my mind with an urgency to share something important. I was surprised, as our last conversation had ended with him enjoying his current life. He spoke about loving the new language he had learned and the sound of trains and traffic muffled through the window where he often spent time.

“Yes,” he said “Trains.”

I probed further. What kind of trains? Local trains? Metro? Or was he far from his human’s home?

On the rare occasions when an animal returns to communicate after closure, I first inform the family and ask if they would like me to continue gathering information.

After their approval, I asked Jerry if he wanted to share more.

Jerry said he was not too far from his earlier home and that he had even seen his human a couple of times on the streets from his window.

He then began showing me a red-coloured logo with an inverted letter “E.”

I was in the middle of a meeting when Jerry felt the need to show me this image. I completed my work and then followed the information trail he was effortlessly revealing.

Trains? A logo? Where was this place? I wondered.

I googled and looked around, but I was almost 19–20 kilometres away from Jerry’s human’s house. I conveyed this to the human, Jerry could see a red logo on his right side and could hear the sound of trains. I also shared reference images of what Jerry was describing. The train station looked like a brand-new metro station adorned with garlands, and the logo resembled that of a film theatre.

The case felt longer than ever.

I shut my eyes and silently hoped Jerry would tell me what he really wanted to convey, because returning home clearly did not seem to be his agenda.

His human was tired and exhausted after nearly three months of searching, yet his resilience was beautiful. Stepping out every morning, afternoon, and evening, putting up flyers, and printing newspaper articles.

And Jerry was trying to convey something the human was not yet prepared for.

By the end of September, Jerry flooded my senses again:
Trains.
A newly opened metro station.
A film theatre.
A red logo.
Second to third floor. Eye level.

One evening, while returning home from a meeting and stuck at a traffic signal, mentally and physically exhausted, I switched off my phone and looked outside the car window, hoping the day would end on a happy note.

Then something caught my eye.

Right across the road stood a freshly opened metro station adorned with garlands. To its right was a film theatre with a bright red logo, the letter “E.” That was it !

My eyes travelled upward to the third-floor building next to it.

There it was.

A window.
A large cage.
And Jerry.

The signal turned green as my car moved forward, and I yelled out a victorious “YESSS!”

The Uber driver was scandalized with my excitement. But I didn’t care.

I immediately called the human and shared everything. It was that famous theatre we all knew. Right in front of us.

Belief is a strange emotion.

The human, exhausted from the search, said he would visit the place the next day, as it was already late evening.

I sensed that he had lost hope, but I trusted Jerry to restore it.

I usually do not follow up immediately after sharing information. Families need time to digest, assimilate, and most importantly, believe, that it is their the animal communicating.

My work was done. I was no longer on the case. But Jerry had provided information that would strengthen the search.

October arrived, and I had moved on from my relationship with Jerry, though he had shown immense trust in me. He made me revisit visualization techniques I had taken for granted in other cases. He made me aware again.

Just when I thought my story with Jerry had ended, his human called.

His voice was cheerful.

“Jerry is back home,” he said. “An hour ago.”

I was overjoyed and didn’t want to know how but we humans tend to share joy and sorrow in detail. The human explained that everything Jerry had mentioned-the metro station, the theatre, the third floor! Everything was accurate.

A few days ago, he visited that house with two police officers and a lawyer. The couple inside took time to open the door. When they finally did, there was no cage and no parrot.

They looked scared.

They spoke Hindi, while the human and Jerry’s native language was Marathi (another detail Jerry had shared.)

After the interrogation, the couple admitted that they do own an African Grey, claiming it had been in their care for five years. They stated that the human had recently lost a parrot and asserted that this parrot did not belong to him.

Dejected, the human asked if he could see the parrot once.

Hesitant but they agreed.

A parrot named Sultan sat quietly perched in his cage by the window.

Silence spoke and then suddenly, Sultan spoke:

“Aye, Captain!”

The human froze.

He rushed to the cage and he began reciting a small poem about Jerry ‘the Captain’. Like a bright child eager to impress a teacher, Sultan completed the poem. Effortlessly!

The human was teary eyed. This was not Junior Jerry.

This was his original Jerry, the one who went missing five years ago. The human had searched for him every day for over a year before giving up. Junior Jerry had been adopted to heal the guilt of losing Senior Jerry.

Senior Jerry had been alive all this while ! The human was in disbelief! Senior Jerry was loved, and cared for nearly four years.

Senior Jerry had been the one communicating with me all along. This was a crucial piece of information the human had not shared when we first began communication with his African Grey parrot named Jerry. As went back to my conversations unfolding with Jerry, it became clear that Senior Jerry had promptly joined the communication journey with me for four long months. While Junior Jerry did not engage in any communication at all. Strange, yet true.

The human made peace. He was happy to see his Jerry alive and chatty! He thanked the couple for loving and caring for Senior Jerry, knowing that throughout the communication, Jerry had repeatedly said he was happy and did not wish to return. The human waved an emotional goodbye to his old mate Jerry Sultan !

Was this what Senior Jerry wanted to convey to his human through me ?

Then came another call. “We read the article in the newspaper. We think we have your Grey parrot. He is with us.”

He was found a few weeks ago, sitting on their car bonnet. The human rushed over and was finally reunited with Junior Jerry, who was happy and excited to see him after 4 months of separation.

Animals communicate for a reason: to convey what needs to be expressed without guilt, to help humans understand the importance of letting go, and to teach us to respect time. Senior Jerry’s telepathic communications uncannily mirrored his human’s life and emotions, all with one clear intention, to free his human from guilt and guide him towards peace.

In the end, his messages were a gentle reminder that love, understanding, and connection transcend words. Now, the human could fully welcome Junior Jerry back, letting go of the lingering guilt from when he flew away, and quietly accepting that sometimes life unfolds beyond our control.