The sunrise, the golden and glorious period of dawn, when all things that the orange rays touched, first thing in the morning, appeared golden and precious, bewitching and beautiful; the transparent dew drops on the grass; the colorful butterflies that flitted about tirelessly from flower to flower and of course, that nest, since the first day he had come upon it; during inspection when he had to go to the attic and look for an old file. He had almost forgotten his task. So enchanted was he, by his discovery. Two tiny off-white eggs lay snugly, sparkling like pearls in an oyster; on the bed of dried straw and leaves. Their ‘parents’ were flying nearby, rather, hovering around the eggs protectively.
In the days to come, Ram Kumar would observe the fledglings emerge from the eggs which had been lovingly hatched by the female sparrow and being fed by the parents with tit-bits, gathered by foraging throughout their busy day! He had become very attached to that family of sparrows. In fact, they ceased to be sparrows for him. They were like his extended family. He would often feed them with jowar and wheat grains, offer water in a bowl daily and even talk with them, when no one was around. He’d scold the fledglings when they ventured too far from their abode. “Hop in now. Or else I’ll tell your Mom and Dad when they return!” he’d say in a mock-scolding tone and they’d mutely obey. They’d come to recognize that he was their well-wisher. When they chirped, he’d feel happy and loved. He felt as if they were trying to communicate with him.
The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan
