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| Image by: Bipasha M |
She comes and sits quietly at her usual perch. Sometimes she caws loudly to let me know that she’s there. But most often, she waits silently. I don’t know how or when our friendship started. But one day I noticed this crow sitting a foot away from me as I kept the food on balcony ledge. She started coming closer and would eat the food as soon as I would keep it. Then came a time when she would wait for me to make balls of cooked rice and place it only for her. Few days ago, she accepted food straight from my hand. She took it very gently to ensure that she didn’t hurt me with her beak. Unlike the bulbul, mynah, and the squirrel family, she doesn’t come every day and that’s okay with me.
I started actively feeding the birds since
the lockdown. Initially, I would leave rice grains and forget about it. Slowly,
I began noticing the birds that came at different times to either eat the food
or take a dip in the water bowl. Now I have a family of mynah, a pair of
bulbuls whose little one has flown the nest, some 15 odd crows, and two
families of squirrels that I consciously leave food out for. When they allow me
near them, I feel accepted and trusted. It’s a feeling that I have never felt before
with fellow human beings.
At the end of the year, I can say without
an iota of doubt that this has been the most precious gift the year has given
me. If the year hadn’t slowed us down, I wouldn’t have known my non-human
friends so intimately or seen migratory birds fly right over my terrace or
watch an exquisite delicate turquoise damselfly hover over the orange flowers.
I like the slow pace. Of life. Of work. Of
my thoughts. And of my body. I don’t feel the regular restlessness that tends
to creep in despite being at home for three-fourth of the year. In its place I
feel a deep groundedness. My work is as much impacted as others, but I am not
anxious about the future. I am enjoying the way my body has slowed downed with
the onset of winter. I am happy when my periods coincide with either the full
moon or the new moon, as if my body is trying to realign and find its way back
to the moon. I want to play the flute, not learn how to play, because I feel
the wind wants to speak to me. I am slowly learning to extend the concepts of
consent and reciprocity to soil, land, Earth and the plants in my balcony
garden. When I grow, it’s with the consent of the seeds and soil. When I take
something, I leave a bit of my hair in return.
I do feel a different kind of restlessness
though. A restlessness of presenting myself in the new world, of stepping into
my true potential, of being my wild self, and of establishing a new narrative.
There’s a world out there where people deeply trust each other, collaborate and
cooperate, and only follow the language of the heart. I have seen glimpses of
this world and felt its breathing growing presence.
This year taught me for certain that the only
true reality is being grounded to our beautiful home, Earth and being inherently
connected with all beings nature. That when things fall apart all around you, when
you fall apart, She is the only one, who is and will be there for you. And bring
you home.
