Birds of feather balk together

If it weren’t for birds, I wouldn’t have met any of you. This blog is almost two years old. Some of you have been visiting me since the beginning. It’s the second longest relationship I have ever been in. I don’t know how special this has been for you. But, it has meant a lot to me.

I may not know all your names. Not everyone stops long enough to leave behind a comment. But a WordPress widget lets me know that you exist. And I am thankful for it.

At times, birds fly away quickly too. Even before we consciously share something beautiful together.

During such moments, love does not tumble down from the skies. Cracked dry leaves aren’t thrown up in the air instead of confetti made of crushed flowers. Twilight will not see the stars dance, drunkenly, up in the sky. Nobody has anything in particular to say. Only the cicadas are louder and angrier than usual. Because they don’t respond kindly to interspecies courtship.

It is unlike the experiences I have shared with Owlets, Flycatchers and Hornbills. Many of those left claw-marks on my heart. And had me aching. To leak. To write.

Birds such as Cuckooshrikes, Scimitar Babblers, Blue-Faced Malkohas, and others have moved me in subtle ways. So quietly that it took me a while to realize that they did.

In fact, I am not sure if these birds realize that I am there. After a while, I forget that they were once a part of my life. I lock them up inside a vault in my mind. And I will only bring them out when I really need the love. When the optimist in me crawls out of the barrel of a gun pointed to the side of my head.

And I feel good about the fact that they exist; that our paths had once crossed.

To my infrequent fliers and silent spectators – we will meet again.

Your
eyes
set fire
to the
shirt pockets
in mine.

(Photographs: Kerala, Tamil Nadu)