What the Birds said after Diwali night?

It was the day after Diwali. The street looked a little smoky, and the air still carried the smell of crackers and sweets. On one corner stood an old neem tree, tall and dense with leaves. Thanks to a local belief, it is now mariyaathaa (local God) and had never been cut down. Among its thick leaves sat two familiar neighbourhood birds: a crow and a koel.

Crow: Hey Koel, what’s the matter today? No koo-koo? You usually start at 4 a.m.. My alarm clock has performance anxiety because of you.

Asian Koel: Don’t even ask bro. I slept at 2 a.m. The pattaas just wouldn’t stop. And one rocket landed next to my branch and exploded. I’m still hearing bells.

Crow: Aiyo! That’s terrible. Every year it’s the same story. This time it felt worse, even my nest was vibrating like a washing machine on spin mode.

Asian Koel: Mmm. I could feel that too. The decibel levels are on an increasing trend.

Crow: Should we retaliate? I could do a strategic, well-aimed potty on someone’s scooter seat. Or maybe an abstract art piece on a balcony railing?

Asian Koel: Ha ha, tempting. But you know, despite the headache, I felt a little happy for the children. Their laughter, their excitement, their sparkling faces… it was beautiful for a few moments. Isn’t that what festivals are for?

Crow: True, but if one creature’s fun becomes another’s sleepless night, is it really fun? Or just a well-lit nuisance?

Asian Koel: That’s the thing. You can’t tell children to be responsible while having fun. The moment you do, the fun disappears.

Crow: You sound philosophical today. What are you reading lately, Koel? Ikigai for Insomniac Birds?

Asian Koel: No, just tired and slightly roasted.

(A house sparrow flutters in, clearly agitated.)

House Sparrow: Philosophy, huh? I’ve been kicked out of three nesting sites this month! And I overheard you both you’re missing the real point.

Crow: Ah, the voice of the people. Go ahead, Sparrow, enlighten us.

House Sparrow: Everyone keeps blaming the kids and their parents. But have you seen who sells these crackers? The same man who sells plastic toys and balloons from his cycle cart. His children burst them too. This is their one night of brightness. And we’re sitting here judging from our branches?

(A common myna lands nearby, feathers gleaming and tone dramatic.)

Common Myna: And who makes these crackers, Sparrow? The workers in Sivakasi, the ones who light up our skies and cough through the rest of the year. Next day, everyone argues about air pollution, but who talks about theirs?
One day the government bans, next day it doesn’t. Depends on who’s in power and what looks good in the headlines.

Asian Koel: And the families who sell and burst the crackers, they’re the ones breathing the worst smoke, cleaning up the burnt paper in the morning.

House Sparrow: Exactly! They spend their savings for that one night of celebration. Money that could have gone to school fees, good clothing or even for a movie. They buy joy on credit and wake up coughing. It’s happiness, yes but it comes wrapped in its own consequences.

Common Myna: Meanwhile, those who already have everything are lecturing about “eco-friendly” Diwali from air-conditioned rooms, while ordering sweets and decorations online. Each parcel arrives in a box big enough to build my entire nest. And who delivers them? The same people living near the polluted drains and low-lying areas. The ones hit hardest by floods and heatwaves.

Crow: So, the privileged who have experienced all kinds of comfort now ask those still struggling for basics to give up their one night of fun and call it awareness?

Asian Koel: That’s the irony. The blame keeps circling never landing where it should.

The four birds fall silent. Below them, the street is considerably quiet now, only a few children having fun.

Crow: So... about that potty protest. Still on?

Asian Koel: Leave it, Crow. No need to add to the mess. The question isn’t who we drop on.

The question is when will the blame stop circling like us, and when will everyone look at the real, giant, smoking nest in the room?

 

What do you think?
Is it fair to ask someone to give up their small happiness for a problem they didn’t create?