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?
What truly touched me was the unseen cost of our comforts ordered with one click? Even our eco-friendly choices sometimes carry the shadow of overconsumption. It’s true ,the circle of blame keeps spinning. Children to parents, sellers to buyers, rich to poor, and back again. But somewhere, we all stand in that circle. My reflection- It stays such a big challenge to take a big move to change habits that are tied to joy, memories, and culture. But maybe change doesn’t always have to be loud. Maybe it begins quietly in smaller ways, in fewer boxes, fewer bursts, and a little more thought. Loved this Post!
ReplyDeleteStill in chaos Gowtham,,,whether to spend for our children’s happiness, support the livelihood of cracker-making families, or protect birds and animals from the noise and pollution. It feels like a cycle of blame on everyone, yet we still haven’t found a real solution.
ReplyDeleteFantastic da Gowtham as always .....
ReplyDeleteBeautiful read, Gautam. Such a cute yet insightful conversation between the birds. A sad irony of truth. I feel it all comes down to leadership and the ability to instill discipline in people. Then again, population, culture, and deeply rooted beliefs are hard to change. Maybe one tiny step at a time is the way forward. Everyone deserves joy, but not at the cost of hurting another species. After all, the earth doesn’t belong only to humans.
ReplyDelete