Quietly left the Sparrow

Sparrow, WorldSparrowDay, Life, Birds, Literature

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Photograph Courtesy:- Sundar Shankar

There were no companions around. She was perhaps, enjoying her moment in solitude. There were few dried puffed rice grains near her feet. She looked at them for one long moment. It was a restless day and she needed those small pieces of food to survive another night. Yet she moved away. It was not food that she wanted.

Time ago, she would have spent those moments with her companions. But there were none around. That worried her. It gave a sense of what life was all about. She was told as all the sparrows are, that life was all about movement. Staying in one place was a dull thing. Elephants could. Lions could. Never the birds. Especially the Sparrows. Sparrows were meant to fly, to travel. But of what use is this travel if you have none around?

Her thoughts drifted back to a memory many summers ago. There used to be an old lady in this ghostly bungalow. She had made a home then for the sparrows and would leave a big plate filled with wheat and rice grains that could fit 30 sparrows at a time comfortably. There was also a big drum of water from where they could quench their thirst and play with friends.

Ah! Death, that scoundrel took her away. That good woman was gone. She remembered the time vividly. She came towards the center of the terrace and looked deep into the place where once the body of the woman was finally laid to rest before being taken away. It was one of those poignant moments that she never chose to forget. How could she? No one spoke that day. They were too mournful to shed tears.

She then moved towards the coconut tree. She remembered her love, the squirrel. The charming squirrel who used to patiently wait for every sunset to share stories with her. How much she missed him? Now, there was not a squirrel around. She remembered the days where they would sit silently and just listen to the stories the evening breeze would bring. The most blissful days being the rainy days where they would exchange stories waiting for the iridescent rainbow to greet them. She missed them dearly now.

Nostalgia. Home. She had always wondered why the sparrows were never given the privilege to stay at a place and romance life? She looked at her bosom one last moment, breathed the cool breeze and laid down near the dried rice grains. She needed a place to stay and she has rightfully earned it. A life had ended. The world around was silent for one moment. The winds blew. The cacophonous cries of the crickets and the lizards began.

Life goes on…

Author: Kavir Nair

A bespectacled lad from the filter coffee preferring south Indian coastal city of Chennai. The Japanese coined a word just for me - Tsundoku, which means the act of buying a book and leaving it unread, often piled together with other unread books. Although I must add, having an unread library is the way I could truly honour the late Umberto Eco. When not watching movies in theaters or beach walking on Marina, you can find me at home reading a book or writing a journal or Netflixing. While I do all this as Ravi Kiran, my alter ego - Kavir Nair needs an exclusive space to write. Hence, he has chosen this abode.

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