Every morning springs some surprises but some are special. As I began to water the potted plants, which dry up faster in Delhi’s scorching heat, I noticed something lurking leisurely beneath the Banyan tree. Actually it is only a bonsai providing little cover, least of all to a little birdling, which just lay close to the stem hoping not to be noticed by birds of prey. I wondered if it was pushed out its nest prematurely since I had seen its parents often flying around the top of a nearby tree. They guarded the nest by turn; one going to look for food while the other kept an eye on the crows overhead. If any of them descended, they were willing to engage them in dogfights and to chase them off the target. I often forgot the newspaper spread on my lap and wondered whether the eggs or if they had been hatched, the nestlings would survive the onslaughts. As the little one crouching close to the banyan bonsai noticed me, it shrunk in terror. I withdrew a little to make it feel comfortable and scanned the sky for its saviours. There were none in sight.
I poured a little water around it to make the soil wet and a bit cooler. However, it acted with alarm and looked at me accusingly as if I was about to drown it. I gave up and called my grandson to give him a peep at the newborn. He initially missed it and looked everywhere but beneath the bonsai banyan. I moved my finger towards it to make it move and get noticed but my daughter shrieked in protest. The noise disturbed it even more and it opened its wings a bit, the redness of the raw flesh making it look more like a wound. We all withdrew to let it lie in peace. When I returned to the newspaper, I noticed one of its parents moving cautiously towards it. It climbed over the rim of the pot, poked the little one with its beak and wow! It opened its eyes, stretched its neck, parted its beak and had its breakfast. The newly-formed wings spluttered as it asked for more. The mother had by then noticed another bird moving closer and almost hid its baby by spreading all its feathers while it cuddled close to it.
The day wore on and as the evening spread across the sky, I ventured out to look for the little birdling. My heart nearly sank when I found there was no sign of it around the banyan bonsai. I imagined the worst- it might have died in the blazing sun or was perhaps cut into pieces by a cruel crow-and then blamed myself for not doing enough to save it. It was really not necessary since I found it the next moment. It had hidden itself behind a bigger pot out of which a Cycas with its protective barbs provided it enough security. Once it got used to my presence, it sauntered across the courtyard with its loving parents tailing it all the time.
The battle for survival is not over yet. As the day ends, let us pray it overcomes all adversity even tomorrow. Amen!
P.S.
As we entered the courtyard late last evening, I spotted a cat stop over the boundary wall, clean its whiskers and jump out.
‘I suspect the little birdie may have been done in’, I expressed my fear.
‘What!’ my younger daughter said aghast.
‘A cat also needs food’, the elder one opined matter-of-factly.
‘It’s a carnivorous animal’, my wife, who’s a teacher, summed up succinctly.
‘We shall only know tomorrow’, I closed the discussion as we ordered chicken biryani.
The morning revealed it all. Broken leaves around the bonsai spoke of the little resistance put up by the victim. On the terrace, a few feathers strewn around showed what a neat job the damned cat had done. On the FM radio, my favourite anchor spoke about the several cycles of birth and death a soul has to traverse before it is endowed with a human body.
I wished the little birdie’s should get at least a cat’s!
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