Today I found a new home, a few yards away from the gulmohar tree that had sheltered me. Together, the gulmohar and I had weathered many a storms and rains. The little birdie and her partner gave me a brand new makeover as they wove me from leaves and barks of trees, lined with spider silk and soft fur.
I still remember the days the little birdie‘s parents carried feathers, leaves, sticks and barks to the top of the gulmohar to carve me out of nowhere. The branches and leaves of the tree canopied me from sun, wind and rain. Cozying up to each other, the birds made love all day and night. One,two, three – the female bird laid eggs on my soft bedding.
As the hatchlings cracked opened the shells and emerged out, my joy knew no bounds! The excitement was palpable on the faces of the birds who turned from lovers to parents overnight. The responsible Robin redbreast was up on his toes early in the morning. Mamma bird and the babies were snuggling themselves to each other. Papa bird gently pecked on his partner‘s beak as he flew off to the wide blue yonder.
“Go easy, munchkins.. Papa has got one for everyone!” said Papa Robin as he pulled out a little worm from between his claws. Mamma Robin cut it into three equal parts and fed the hungry juvenile stomachs. I too learned my first lesson in fractions as one third of the worm was gulped by each of the offsprings.
“Hey sweetie, look at Papa‘s wings.. Gently fan your little wings and spread them out like this.“ Papa Robin turned a flight instructor to his kiddos that day as the petrified babies took tiny steps and stepped out of me, their home sweet home, for the first time. Mama Robin was so apprehensive, tears welled up her eyes as she bid final goodbye to her babies. Papa and Mama Robin followed suit and deserted me soon after. As the razor-sharp axe satiated its hunger by drawing the blood of Gulmohar, I, who was home to the Robin family for six months was also pulled down.
One of those little birds has grown into a young adult, ready to take the giant leap of maternity. It was then she found my carcass lying beside the stump of the gulmohar, which had blossomed to a young tree by then. As the birdie brooded over tiny eggs and nestled to the chest of her partner, my grandma heart beamed with pride:
“I am the nest, weaving the winged dreams of my inmates generations after generations.”
