Delhi, a city full of surprises, often unveils its charm in the most unexpected ways. While much has changed over the years, its enduring spirit continues to soar
Surprises never cease to crop up in my beloved Delhi, although, when I reminisce, I find this Delhi to be so very different from the place where I was born and grew up–in a few years from now, I will be touching the magical mark of sixty years- Insha-Allah!!! These are surprises that keep the passion to continue living here alive, despite the megapolis tottering on the edge of a bottomless abyss.
I encountered one such surprise more than two decades ago, when I chanced upon an opportunity to care, to love- dispassionately. Then, I worked in the vicinity of Delhi’s sprawling International Airport. At some distance from my office were robust pockets of greenery. As I strolled on the edge of a stagnant water body, immersed in thoughts, the shrill chirping of two birds circling overhead broke my reverie.
Wary–expectedly so–of duplicitous humans, they maintained a distance from me- trying to scoop down to my level, but then taking off at the last moment. Something in their incessant chirping pointed to a high level of desperation, of an impending crisis. Not the one to be blessed with Dr Do Little’s prowess, instinctively, I shrugged off the noise to a behaviour anomaly that might be inherent in avians of this species. But the next moment I was proved wrong.
The magnitude of the disaster struck me like a sledgehammer–on the muck-infested, rotting, stagnant surface of the pond, I saw a tiny tremor, so minute that one could easily have missed it. It aroused my curiosity, and I leaned over to have a better view. Lo and behold, trying to break free from the strangulating grip of the muck were three tiny birds, barely the size of an index finger- in all probability offspring of the panic-stircken pair hovering above. Perhaps they had fallen into the pond, carried by a duststorm that had lashed the capital a few hours earlier.
As they waged a fast-losing battle to stay afloat in the poisonous pool (symptomatic of most water bodies in the capital), the strings of my heart (already weakened by a blood pressure problem) felt a strong tug.
Somehow, I managed to shrug off my indecisiveness and moved to the edge of the pond. Tenderly, so as not to cause any harm, I scooped the first bird into my palm; the paranoid birds overhead mistook me for a predator and made some aggressive moves. But, as I delicately placed it on hard ground, they realised that I was not a foe–immediately, the chirping subsided; I finished the balance task in peace. After I had rescued the last bundle of joy and placed it on the welcoming lap of Mother Earth, I felt reassured that the worst was over.
Contended, I commenced my trudge into civilised environs. Barely had I taken a few steps, when I looked behind and saw the protective parents cuddling their young ones–exemplifying all that is human but is sadly getting diluted.
The unexpected encounter lifted my spirits sky-high, as even in the fast-decaying Delhi, my beloved Delhi, hope continues to flow eternally. And where there is hope, a better future can never be far away.
(The author is a freelance writer; views are personal)