My last flight

March 31st, 2012

It is an awesome feeling to be in love, to have a partner, to chirp mindlessly to each other and to prepare to bring our kids into this world. In our case it is seasonal. When the spring starts, the feeling of love also blooms within ourselves and we start searching and courting our partners; flying, soaring, finding homes and laying eggs. We were quite late this time; however we decided to build our nest on a yellow wall inside human shelter. It was a flower basket actually, that we chose; but the flower neither smelled, nor withered. But it was dry and warm; just as we needed and we had it right across our entrance window. Earlier there was no one, there in that shelter. A lady and a dog would be there downstairs and at night a man too. Later a girl started coming for night and leaving early morning. Maybe it was her nest too. She never bothered us; she would pretend as if she didn’t notice us flying in and out; but sometimes I could see her putting white cotton balls in our nest and sometimes she would put a plate of grains below our nest. Maybe that was her way of acknowledging us; giving food and keeping us warm. Though we lived in harmony, I could hear a big, buzzing sound whenever she stayed in her shelter, within her section of nest and she always sealed her entrance, when the noise was there.

We laid eggs; 3 pretty brown eggs and I started warming them. I would sit on eggs and my hubby would bring me food. Sometimes, when he got late I would make do with the grains the girl offered; sometimes I would fly inside the shelter and find insects for myself. This particular day, it was very hot. I sat on my eggs the whole day and the girl was also within her section of shelter the whole day, occasionally coming out. Soon, it got dark and my hubby hadn’t arrived. I got restless and hunger was driving me mad. I flew inside the shelter but couldn’t catch a single insect. There was no offering from the girl either. Then, the girl came out of her section and left the door ajar. I perched on the door and peeped inside her section. It was lit, like day. The humming sound was there and something was moving in the center. I hoped I would catch some food, so I decided to check in. As I flapped my wings, something pulled me towards the center. It was like being sucked by a vast air current and I hit the part of the moving thing. I was instantly thrown somewhere and as I was falling I could hear the girl screaming. I was numb; the pain was blinding and I could feel the blood oozing from me. More screaming and then the lady came upstairs. Now, the girl was wailing and so was the lady. I couldn’t move. After what seems like an eon of pain, the man came and held me in his palm. He said something and the females sighed. Then, he slowly touched me, held mu hurting wing, and examined me. It hurt when he lifted it, though he was trying not to hurt me. He then applied some sticky paste on my wounds; while the girl fed me with some sweet, salty liquid. I wet my beak; thirsty as I was, I was scared too. They were humans and yet so close to me. I was broken, helpless so I stayed still. From the corner of my eyes, I could see the two females putting same white fluffy things over my nest. “Don’t hurt my babies,” was all I could think then; as he carried me downstairs and put me in a box.

They had wrapped my broken wing in a white material. After sometime, they left me alone. When all human noises ceased and darkness dominated, I slowly tried to get out from the box; but to no avail. I was broken; I couldn’t fly. Even lifting my wings was tedious.  I slowly dragged myself off the box; my babies…I had to reach them somehow. They would be cold without me. But the hall seemed longer now; it was not so long when I flew in it. But now, it was dawn already by the time I made halfway the hall. Human noises buzzed again and the lady came to me. She scooped me in her hand and kept stroking me gently. Scared, I decided to stay still again. The girl came down a few moments later and both sat there, staring at me. They fed me that liquid again and later the man put me outside, below the sky, in the garden. He would sometimes put me inside the box and sometimes on the cold ground. But they left me alone. Soon, my fellow friends found me and my hubby also came. But they just stared at me. They were helpless too. I was broken, I could never fly and they couldn’t help me.

Eventually, they left. I watched them soaring high; up into the sky. My hubby was heartbroken; but he left too and I stayed inside the box; watching the sun change position; feeling the winds in my broken wings; thinking of my babies upstairs. Then, the three humans carried me upstairs again. This time they put me in my nest, on top of my babies. I was grateful; I just sat there. Things started getting dizzy; I couldn’t focus. The girl was staring at me, her eyes were wet.  Later they fed me again. It was sweet, addictively sweet. I drank as much as I could. Slowly, the dizziness passed away and I felt strong; strong enough to fly. I jumped out of my nest but couldn’t flap my wings. The man caught me before I hit the ground and again fed me. I drank as much as I could; then a huge pain started in my abdomen and escaped my beaks in a shrill tweet. Darkness, painlessness prevailed!

A few moments later, I was flying, unbroken. I saw the two women crying over my dead body. Now, I could understand their noises. “I should have left the door closed”, the girl was shouting. The woman was consoling her that it wasn’t her fault; I had decided to fly in myself. Then, they talked about my eggs, my babies. The girl wanted to keep and hatch my babies. She was saying that she will keep them, she would feel less guilty then. The man and woman were saying even if they took care of my babies, my babies would never learn to fly without me. And they would eventually die too.  I saw them burying my eggs with my dead body in the end.

I sometimes see my husband. Lonely1 He even visits the shelter sometimes but goes away, when he doesn’t see me. I see the girl too. I see her cringing, whenever she sees a bird like me; or whenever she hears a similar bird call and she blames herself all over for keeping the door open. Sometimes, she wakes up in the middle of night, screaming. Tonight, she dreamt that I had hit the thing again and she woke up screaming; shaking herself from the vision of herself soaking in my blood. And then she sat down to write my story, the story of my last flight.

    • Nisanka
    • August 13th, 2012

    Oh my God. This is the first time I read your blog. It makes my heart go numb with pain. That’s all. Can’t write or think about anything to write anymore. Hope you had a safe flight.

  1. Thankyou Akki, I know you felt the same too

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