The darkness had fallen.
There was a bunch of birds calling and making a rumpus as the sun was setting, I saw something that mesmerized me.
What a beauty!
It swivelled its head and looked right at me with huge, dark eyes, trying to gauge whether I was a bird or an animal, but alas, it did not find me interesting enough. I had failed to trigger its curiosity, so it swooped to the ground and flew in another direction.
But, then it came back, perhaps to give me a second chance. Yes, the owl did! The indifferent owl was a different owl now. Amiable and talkative too.
So, we became friends, albeit for a short while.
“Hoot, hoot,” said the now friendly and curious owl.
“Hi, wise one,” said I.
“Hoot, hoot,” echoed my nocturnal companion.
“Hoot, hoot,” I re-echoed.
It sounded to my ears like jhoot jhoot. Why? Well, maybe because everything around us is fake these days.
Fake smiles. Fake words.
Fake people. Fake sympathy. Fake empathy.
But not fake birds. Definitely not fake birds.
So, I found myself talking animatedly to the bird, supposedly the epitome of wisdom, trying to read meaning in the hoots.
I had counted enough sheep. I had roll called all the sheep I could see in the barn, made them stand in queue and even bleat! But the illusive sleep was no way near me. My deep and introspective conversation with the wise owl also did not help me get even one of my 40 winks.
My morning meanderings up nature’s trail had now metamorphosed into nocturnal meanderings from bedroom to kitchen (to check if I had turned off the gas switch) and the living room (to check if I had locked the main door) and the study table (to check if I had unplugged the charger from my laptop) – all unnecessary meanderings in the dead of the night. Why? Well, I was in pursuit of those elusive 40 winks. For a moment, I wondered if I should hold up a candle and wear a white veil like those old movies.
Done with my meaningless meanderings I returned to my wise owl. Not for nothing are they called wise. The owl must have been amusedly watching my mirage-like meandering in search of sleep. It sat there calmly, gripping the tree trunk. I returned to my seat near the window, listening to the sounds of the night, and slowly the night turned into dawn. A fresh, new dawn. With new sounds. Different fragrances.
I brought my tea and sat on the balcony. The morning was still in the process of knuckling sleep kinks from its eyes when my eyes fell on my nocturnal friend. With a muted hoot, it fluttered and was lost among the trees.
My companion of the night had ditched me, leaving me to my own devices. New birds had taken over. A pigeon from the telephone wire kept watching me, a crow came and sat next to it.
I wondered if crows bite. In my mind’s second track, Jhooth boley kawwa kaatey the song from the film Bobby started playing. Whether they bite or not is debatable. But Mr Crow cawed, “Just came to wish you a great morning. Only this and nothing more.” Awww! 🥰
“Chirp chirp,” said the sparrow, the parakeet squawked, and the pigeon yodelled. All were greeting the world a ‘Very Good Morning’ in different voices and presumably dialects too! It was with a spring in my step, lively eyes, and a strong vitality that I entered my house, to celebrate life as the birds had taught me.
