Pycnonotus Jocosus

By Neha Dhami

Three weeks ago, you were collecting twigs

Your little body moving- cautious yet so endearing

You flew in and out of the veranda

To and fro the flower pot that carried your home

Two weeks ago, we glowed with joy

Your home was a cradle to three mauve eggs

My mother was always outside

Gushing over your every move

A week ago, the mauve turned into little bundles of brown and cream

Our hearts swelled; it was nothing less than a dream

To witness the magic of life

So small, so delicate, so beautiful

Yesterday my mother woke me up

Tears in her eyes, she quivered the line

"It was probably the cat, don't go outside"

The nest was broken, the floor was a mess

Tonight, I'm awake as I were last night

Loss and regret tormenting my mind

If only I had gone outside for a breath of air

Maybe I could've saved them, could've seen them one more time

How are you momma bulbul?

Are you safe and sound?

We don't know if you made it

There were lots of feathers on the ground

Circle of life can be cruel sometimes

I never knew hearts could hurt like this over a little birdie and her broken nest

I sat on the swing today and as my mother cried

A little bulbul perched itself next to us and took off in a flight

By Neha Dhami