11 June 2009

Twigs and Rags

I wasn’t a king, neither was my father nor was my brothers. We, sparrows were just gleaner. My sisters worked as hard as my brothers did. Neither, we knew who our parents were, nor our parents knew us. Like all my sisters and brother, even I had taken flight from home, immediately after learning to fly. Sky was our life, earth gave us food and trees were our home.

My mate and I collected twigs and rags. We wove nest, after filling our stomachs and quenching our thirsts. Everyday, we flew in and out of our unfinished nest. Most of the times flew together but sometimes alone. We flew miles over rivers and mountains protecting ourselves from ravens and birds of Jove, saving ourselves from wind and rain.

After many weeks of hard work, our nest was complete and warm. My mate laid three eggs and we watched over them day and night. I carried worms and flies for her while she gave the eggs her love and warmth. Sometimes, I sat on the eggs so she could stretch her wings a little and have a drink.

One sunny day, she went for a drink while I sat on the eggs. She said she wouldn’t go very far and would be back soon. I waited and waited for hours, but she didn’t turn up. I got anxious. I didn’t want to even think that she was in danger.

I left the eggs though I didn’t want to and took off in search of my mate. I hadn’t flown very far and I saw her lying dead on the floor next to a pole. They were heat generating poles. Surely, she had died touching the strings tied to the poles. I didn’t sit grieving instead I returned to the nest. I wanted to save our eggs.

On my return, to my horror, I saw the nest ruined. The twigs and rags that we had woven to make nest was ruined. The tree that held the nest had fallen. The eggs were broken. There were people around cutting the other nearby trees, which held other nests. Not only we lost our nests, but ravens, green bee-eaters, barbets, rollers, kites, house swifts, robins, sunbirds, tailorbirds, bulbuls and colorful butterflies that lived in the neighboring trees became homeless. I wondered how many more trees would be chopped. I wanted to say to people, “Save trees! They are our shelters”, but knew they wouldn’t listen to me. They always did whatever they wanted, no matter how many homes were destroyed for their comfort.

Now, I was alone, without eggs and mate. I grieved over their death and took off to find a safer place. I hoped I would live long enough to reach a safer place. My neighbors followed me, hoping the same.


  1. hmm .... this is nice indeed . told in a simplistic minimal way ..

  2. Well I never expected the moral at last..It was a good read..:)