The small bird

Birds are not very different from humans, but why should I be comparing him with humans? We humans do not have a patent on emotions, do we?. All life forms can emote, who knows may be non-living things can too?, it's just that most of the times we don't know how to see it. And birds can be intelligent enough to manipulate others. I did'nt know that when I saw him half dead crouched under the three legged table looking as shabby as the room around him. He was just a fledgling with baby feathers still showing on him. A small worn-out ugly looking thing. I stared hard at my parent's old farm hand and enquired in my most authoritative voice " What were you thinking to have caught this thing?" and he smiled with all his stupidity and affection " I brought it for you missus, it's very young I took it from the nest up that ol' creek for you." . " Another sin upon my already burdened conscience! Yeah, very conveniently put it all on me" ,muttering to myself I sat down trying to take a good look at the poor bird, he looked really forlorn and famished " how long ago?". "Missus, I've had it for two days now". " What baba? did you feed him at all? Now you must go and keep him back in his nest, I don't wanna keep a caged bird". If I hoped for some response it was clearly not coming. " I don't have any cage. You like birds, I got it for you so you do whatever you want with it", with that baba walked away washing his hands off the entire episode.

I caught the poor little bird and brought him in the house and that was the day "Pattu" as it was named, became the newest member of our family. The first few attempts at feeding him were a complete disaster, he would refuse to take anything from us. Giving up after a while my mom just transferred him to an empty cage with a ripe guava and some sun-flower seeds and water. In the morning when we came back to it , the food was all finished and the thin little pattu now sported a distinct paunch. He had still not forgotten the treatment meted out by baba and so didn't trust us yet. The moment we'd open the cage to replace the food he'd crouch in the far corner and puff-up his face in angry defense. Since I was the reason why he was there, I was given the responsibility to take care of his food and cleaning of the cage routine. It would have been easy if Pattu had helped a little and co-operated but he seemed to have taken a huge dislike of all humans, and I got to bear the brunt of it. I tried my best to be friendly, gave him the best of the nuts that usually birds like, talked in the most soothing of the voices that I could possibly make, however all came to naught as he'd only sulk and sit in his corner refusing to take any notice of me or the food till I was well away from his sight. It was a battle of wits in which I finally gave up. Realising that with my persistence to be-friend him I was causing more trouble I left him alone. Resigning to my moral responsibility to just feed him and clean his cage when-ever required.

A month passed like that, it was onset of winters and I was feeling lonely after my brother, my only friend went away to the city for further studies. I took my books and went out on the terrace to catch the winter sun, Pattu hadn't too much of feathers to boast-off and still looked rather ugly and bald, I carried his cage along so that he may also benefit from the sun. It was sunny and warm with a little breeze to heighten the pleasantness of the 'sitting idle and doing nothing' task, birds were singing on the far off trees. It felt really good and I thought Pattu might like the taste of some freedom too. I opened his cage so he could come out and enjoy the sun. He stood undecided on the threshold of the cage looking at me and out-side, obviously wondering if I wasn't just trying to kill him. For a month he had spurned all my friendly advances and now I also liked to keep my distance, so I dragged my chair a few paces away and sat down pretending to read my book. I expected him to walk around and then find some place far from me to sit, but I was wrong. He came out and gingerly walked towards where I was sitting, came to my feet caught hold of my trouser and slowly hauled himself up, spluttred his feather-less wings, fluffed up and sat down on my knees. That day, after a month of our aquaintance, Pattu had finally befriended me. I could have said I befriended him but that would be wrong, it was purely his initiative to come and bond with me. We kept sitting like that for long till it was time to head back inside, I held out my hand and he climbed onto it and thus we went inside.


That was the begining of the most memorable period of my friendship with Pattu, I tried my best to provide him with every bit of freedom that I could squeeze in his limited mobility environment, starting with moving him into a bigger cage with lots of tiny playthings in it, he enjoyed the bar swing and the wheel swing the most. Then came my resolve to let him out of his cage whenever we were within the house, we planted a small tree inside so that he may sit on its branches and not miss whatever the other parrots of his age do outside. Yet for a bird who has the right to the open skies it was but a very poor subsitute of being free. He'd look out from his cage bars and scan the skies whenever a wild parrot called or flew overhead, I could see that he longed to be let out and to stretch his wings and fly. He was very young and his wings were very weak, any attempt at flight went only downward and yielded a few more broken quills, letting him out unattended would've made him an easy target for a cat or some predatory bird. Pattu and I were both just entering into our adoloscence, all he had seen of the world was the view from his parents' nest before baba caught him. I on the other hand was still in my parents' home but being sheltered in a over-protective household, for me the world was from what I could see from my home for him it was whatever he could view from his cage. Together we could relate to eachother and were soon inseparable, If he was out of his cage and he heard my voice coming from the next room, he would walk all the way to that room and find me. Whenever I went out for the walk in the fields he'd be with me either perched on my shoulders or my hands. With eager eyes we looked at the world which indeed seemed full of surprises everyday. There were trees to climb, twigs to be plucked, flowers to be smelled and admired, meadows to walk on aimlessly, animals and birds to behold, each day a new treasure waiting to be discovered. Pattu became my only friend and my best friend. He taught me his little bird gestures, for example when parrots meet friendly parrots, they would do a little dance routine to show affection, I learnt it and Pattu was delighted to see me do that. I would touch his head with mine , go back a little bit pull back the shoulders and emit a tweeting sound, and he'd then come and similarly touch my head with his beak go back pull back his wings bare his chest and emit the same tweets, almost like two friendly parrots.

Two years passed, Pattu now had shiny green feathers on his body but very weak wings, he could'nt fly, these things are taught by parents or nature I could'nt teach him something I myself didn't know how to. I could sense his restlessness to fly out to be free and I caught it from him after he was gone, I later grew up to become equally restless to go to places that seemed out of reach. Like a continuous nagging pain the innate instinct for being free, running wild and meeting the destiny head-on troubled our peace. Pattu was getting young and wanted to fly, I couldn't give him that but on the hindsight I feel now that I should,ve let him go. He deserved better than what I gave him. After innumerable failed attempts at flying it had begun to dawn on him that he might never be able to go out on his own. That day by stealing him from his parents' nest Baba had doomed him to captivity forever, and in my bid to give him some semblance of freedom I had doomed him to an even worst state of unfulfilled restlessness in this captivity. Keeping him caged was a crime. His body was weak and caged but his mind and soul were begging to be freed. It was a no-win situation and I was as unhappy as he was begining to become. I couldn't give him the sky that was his legacy.


Shortly after that during the monsoon rains Pattu died. Well, he died yes but he died because of my stupidity. Stupidity, such a harmless word , someone's stupidity took him away from his parents another person's (mine) stupidity took his life away, literally. How does it feel when your stupidity kills your best friend, your loved one? Remorse! guilt, its burden gets so heavy that it can't be assuaged by just writing about it. It's a feeling you have to live with, with passage of time it dulls only to flare up again when the tide of memories turns in. That day it was raining and we were sitting out sheltered under the terrace with the rest of the family. The day was a little chilly but it was refreshing to feel the spary of the downpour. Pattu was in the cage, and excited by the rainfall too. Then we saw some wild parrots screeching with glee taking bath in the rain, and someone said let him also bathe see all the other parrots are enjoying the rain let him also. I too thought yeah! why not, and I dragged his cage in the rain. I should've known it was too cold for him, If I would've paid attention I could,ve seen him shiver. However, I did not and he didn't call out either. He was just a 10 minutes out in the rain then we took him inside, but it was 10 minutes too long because he caught a chill and a fever. We took him to the vet and got him medicines. He stopped eating, Two days later I had kept his cage in the warmth of the sun, when I went to check up on him, I thought I saw a couple of bite-marks on the guava kept there. I was happy he had started to eat and I went to call mom " See ma, he's eating, he's gonna be fine". When we came back he was lying on the floor of his cage, stiff and dead. We buried him and...... that was it.

Mom knew I was hurting she thought I'd get over it. She was right I was lonely for a long time , I remembered him, missed him a lot cried for him for days and then life took over. I got over his death, but I couldn't get over his life and him. Somewhere in our two years of togetherness he had given me his unending curiousity for the ourdoors and his restlessness. People say that birds are not 'people', they don't have equal rights as humans. I know different, I know it for sure Pattu had an equal right to freedom as any human, and he could convey his emotions better than many humans I have known. He had a thinking feeling mind and I was lucky to have known this person for two years. My friend Pattu, the small bird, was indeed different from many 'people'. Unlike them, he was true to his natural instincts.