Once upon a time in Delhi, each morning was a bliss, before the stress of the world gripped people , they woke up to the sweet chirps , at times musical and surprisingly synchronized, of a sparrow.. They rendered each morning beautiful so much so that each and every person woke up with a smile and went of to the work with one.. That was the time with much less traffic on the road, that was the time when we were free from the rule of the modern gadgets.. that was the time humans were actually made of flesh and not just machines smelting away with time.. That was the time when houses were big and single storeyed.. People were much happy back then. And then one day, came the big buildings which were so long the sky seemed lost, then came the mobile phones which kept us ‘connected’ with the entire world always.. In all this mess and hue and cry of moving ahead, we forgot about the one thing that made our mornings beautiful, the birds, the simplicity and the family.. In this mad rush to move ahead and win the race, we forgot about our ownselves, we forgot about our families.. we forgot everything..
We forgot that the small device which claimed to keep us connected always emitted radiations, radiations which were so pronounced that they practically wiped out the entire population of House sparrow in less than a decade.. We forgot that the tall buildings which provide us refuge claimed the forests which were the only places they could call home, we have what 2 or 3 flats in the city and a handful more in the country but they had just one, the forest which we cut down so heartlessly, without giving sparing even a moment of thought to these innocent beings who had made us rise with a hope each morning with only their sweet voice..
Our innocence and respect for people has vanished at the same speed.. A coincidence or is it related somehow?
For me, they were not only early morning visitors they used to be my alarm clock, they used to be my friends.. they used to be the one’s i talked to for hours each day, they are my entire childhood, they were not birds… they were the ones who taught me to have hope.. To return to the same spot without any prior knowledge of what it’d turn out to be that day,.. they taught me to trust.. They were the reasons I got up early … And Personally speaking, for the past so many years, each morning , I go out with the hope that one day, the ones that taught me hope would return, that one day I shall again be able to relive that innocence once again, that one day somehow, the wheels of time would just go back, that one day my vanished visitors would just come back..