When you are tuned in to bird sounds, you hear them even midst cacophony of wheeled, smoke-spewing monsters. In a bumper to bumper traffic I heard a barbet call, clear and loud. It isn’t the loveliest of bird sounds but it massaged my aching heart. Barbet, I am tuned in to you. 45 degrees tilt of the head and the world is so much more charming.
I was at my parents’ house in a quaint little, quiet town. I didn’t just see birds, I stalked them there. I exaggerate not, but some magic has happened since then and it is very special. For instance, one morning I said to myself that I wanted to see a new, bigger bird – and two minutes later into that manifestation, an Indian Grey Hornbill flew right in front of my eyes. She perched on a beautiful Amaltash tree, and I ran to confirm. It was indeed her!
My mother said to me that evening, that considering how much I love birds and spend time watching them, perhaps I will be a bird in next life. I asked her, “Will you keep water for me every day.” “Of course,” she said.