'THUMBELINA'

 

The fiery accents of orange-gold in the western sky had gingerly muted into a soft peach. Rich hues of champagne and pastel pink blended with the steely greys in the horizon. A flurry of various birds and their dark silhouettes dotted the myriad tints as they returned to their roosts. They cackled joyously as they flew overhead. The chorus and the orchestra of the birds gradually drifted into the distance until I could only hear an echo or a settling-in faint cluck from a faraway tree. Everything had gone quiet and still outside. 

I felt anything but elated with these songs and sights of creation which would otherwise have stirred a sense of exhilaration in me and have me hurriedly rummage about for my camera. Those were the extremely wretched of days when I had just about struggled to get my bearings together after an unfortunate and untimely demise of an infant in the family, a few days prior. 

The disbelief and emotional upheaval was taxing, to say the least.

Snapping out of my reverie, I realised that the sun had long since set. It was a cloudless night and the sky was an enveloping petal of spring Iris, all aglow with a serene silvery sheen.

A faint voice relentlessly cooed and called out from somewhere inside the house. Being conditioned to all the chatter of the mynahs and the clucking of pigeons which roost in some hidden alcoves of the tall apartment building that I stay in, it was also a common sight of them fluttering across the common corridors outside, which went unperceived sometimes. 

Quite engrossed with my last minute dinner preparations after a long, busy day at work and running errands, I regretted having failed to notice this melody sooner. When the cobwebs finally cleared from my befuddled head, I rushed on tiptoe, to find the source of this tune. Standing her ground firmly and boldly in a shaft of moonlight, in one of the rooms was the tiniest of birds, as yellow as butter. 

A first-time visitor, who had separated herself from her flock and had stopped by to actually trill a birdsong. Long after sundown.

‘Birdie’ noticed me but was not startled. Confidently, and in a higher pitch, with every ounce of energy, she gave an overjoyed tweet upon seeing me. I whistled to her in varied tunes and Birdie responded likewise.

This musical opera continued for a while and I lost track of time. Having sung and done that, Birdie decided it was about time to leave.

She made her way out and disappeared without a trace. Never to return. 

The pearly luminescence outside captured only a silhouette in flight of my sublime emissary. Rare birds they say are fairies in disguise, who come to comfort you, reassure you! The message in her beatific lyrical was for me to decode. I believe in the Mystique and the Magic. It sends me signs from the unseen world.

I know all is well up there and the Heavens are kindly taking care of you.

***

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

Pic Courtesy:Pixabay