It is the dusk hour, and a bird twitters outside my window. I can’t tell what kind of a bird it is. Its voice is big and confident and yet, the high pitch conjures up the image of a sparrow or similar small-sized creature. Soft, nurturing bosom, shy to humans, and still, fully possessed of its uniqueness in the great canvas.
To hear birds freely warbling throughout the day has become a blessing I explicitly count now. As the Amazon fires burn Earth’s lungs, water tables dry up and species go extinct, I am not sure if the Nature I grew up with will be there when I die.
This little bird outside my window has put me into a despondent mood. Even as it sings its heart out, it makes me painfully conscious of the possibility that its friendliness to me may be shortlived.
To be sure, revivals are happening as well. The tiger population in India is rebounding. Rhinos were bred successfully in Africa recently. The Maharashtra government, like many other state governments and other countries, is on a mission to plant trees. I recently saw a post on Instagram of a tribal man in Northeast India who has been planting trees for the last 40-odd years, and he has created a living forest, with animals and birds inhabiting, today.
Like all things in life, every yin has its yang. The flip side of despair is hope. Every villain has his hero. The only choice to be made, it seems, is which side I want to be on.