A childhood
musing on a Sparrow
It was a summer holiday time
at home, I was about 9 years old, and as children we were all playing carom
board till later very night, so had to get up late in the morning. That
morning, it was still very early; the sun is still to show forth its
ferociousness, a cousin of mine runs home to say that a small bird, which in
Telugu we say picchuka (house
sparrow) fell on the ground hurt, and is battling for life. In no moment, the
news spread across our friends circle, and all of us gathered there to witness
that bird, in its dying moments. Some suggested giving that bird some water to
drink, some others brought burnol to apply to its wounds, some said we shall
sprinkle some face powder on her body, someone whispered why don’t we rush that
bird to one of our neighbouring uncle who is a veterinary doctor for some first
aid, some even did not forget to say that we better share it with our pastor
uncle for some prayers of healing. The little tiny bird was counting its
breath; the gathering of our friends was bulging in making efforts to save that
tiny one. The bird’s right leg was bruised badly with oozing of blood around,
her eyes becoming still, winking them in a very slow pace on and off. The just
woke up faces of all our friends were turning blue to see her pain. Even the
house elders in my cousin’s home came to enquire whats happening in that back
yard of their house. On knowing that it was a dying bird, they thought it was a
ludicrous matter and gave no heed to that bird. On the other hand they even
thought that the children are crazy for their surrounding the dying bird.
As the day light crawled out,
darkness crept into the bird’s life. The sparrow breathed her last, as her
winking eye stood still, her bruised leg stopped shivering and her body started
to become cold. The tiny beautiful sparrow is no more is the news around. We
the children folk became silent, for some tears rolled on our cheeks, some of
our elder cousins regretted that they couldn’t save the bird for all of their
efforts turned vain. There was resentment among them, sadness among all of us,
the bright sunny day turned to be a very gloomy day for all of us. In such
disappointing situation, everyone started to pay their last respects to that
beautiful darling. And one of our cousin said, this beauty deserves a decent
burial at least, for in her dying moment we anyway couldn’t give her life and
said let us bury this tiny sparrow, and try to bring dignity to her death and
to the bird herself. What was a burial,
and who should perform it and how should it be done??? Lots of questions
puzzled around. The elder cousin instructed some of us to pluck flowers from
our neighbourhood, some he said to get the worn out candles, which we used
during the night at power cuts. By then the elder cousins dug a small grave for
the bird, and brought a brick to lay over it. When again all of us
re-assembled, our elder cousin brought our hymn book which had both the songs
and the liturgy for a funeral. We all sang the song in Telugu “Till we meet…”
and then he read out the prayers from the liturgy. The bird was now placed in
that grave, and as he read out ‘from dust we came, to dust we go’ all standing
there put some mud in the grave and finally the brick was placed on top of it.
They then instructed to place the flowers and the candles on top of that grave.
For all the children there, the bereavement made an imprint on our lives that
we couldn’t save that tiny sparrow and bring it to life. We all bid our
farewell to that beautiful sparrow that day.
Sparrows have
become rare, keep them in care,
For the earth cant
spare that, for it only scares
For they make a
scar on to God’s creativity
Lets join to
preserve the biodiversity
And keep up the
creations integrity
“Like a sparrow in its flitting, like a swallow in its flying, an
undeserved curse goes nowhere.” Prov 26: 2
Raj Bharath Patta
World Sparrow Day
2012
20th March 2012
