There are some moments which will always be a little more special than others. We had stopped our car to turn it around, back on our way home, when my brother noticed something moving on the road. He spoke out excited ‘A bird. Look.’ Obsessed bird-watchers that we are, we’re constantly looking out for birds. My father at first thought that it was a leaf, but we got out of the car just in case.
And to our pleasant surprise it wasn’t a leaf but a baby bird. A baby Indian Pitta. A bird that none of us had seen earlier. My father picked it up in his hands. The poor thing must have wandered from its nest and was incapable of running away. It struggled a bit but then quietened down. I held it gently between my palms as my father went back to the car to get his Salim Ali. The Indian Pitta is a brilliant bird. Terrestrial in nature, you can see the green and the blue even in the young. The shocking orange in its vent and the black and white streaked eyes. We put it down on the road so we could photograph it.
Then came the problem of what we should do with it. I was extremely tempted to bring it back home. It was alone and almost shivering and I lost my heart to it. ‘The wild should never be taken away from the wild’ Papa told me. ‘But it’ll die here. Some snake will eat it up. Or some other wild animal’ I said to Papa. But he was adamant. Leave it to natural selection. I picked it up in my hands again. And this time it came almost willingly. It knew that I meant it no harm. We checked the Salim Ali for details of the Indian Pitta’s nesting habits. Keeping it under a bush with big leaves was the best option. We walked away from the road, into the forest. At least it won’t be run down by a car. I kept it down gently under a thick bush and walked back to the car with a heavy heart.
Sometimes I wonder that the world is so full of beautiful things. Then how can I be sad ever? And now the memory just brings a smile to my face and a feeling of wonder in my heart. I hope it is still alive. Fingers crossed.