A LETTERED SOUL, BOOK 2- MUSINGS ON ART AND CULTURE

BIRDS- A SHORT STORY

Few months after debuting with my first short story PIANO NOTES, I dabble again in writing one that melds the beauty of relationships along with my preoccupation with the natural aura of birds; birds as symbols of freedom and an inherent Godliness in our world.

I hope you like this one.

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BIRDS- A SHORT STORY

"Uncle, what is the meaning of God's presence on earth?"

"Especially since we can't see God with our own eyes?"

"Yes, Uncle, you always know how to pick up the spirit of all my enquiries"

He had done it again, the precocious little 'man-child' as he liked to call himself. Samridh, my eight year old nephew, prided himself on the weekends spent with me as we took long leisurely walks on his favourite riverside parks, which we found to be perfect embodiments of paradise within the city.

"Thank God for this natural beauty and also for the fact that we don't get hit by hurricanes, floods or even rainy spells to drown our hopes, here in this town; I guess the good karma and impressive history of this place that you tell me so much about has blessed it with an even temper"

"Of course, my wise captain, now that you have read such a favourable forecast, I guess the bright and sunny days are here to stay. You know how I always tell you that a child's goodwill especially impresses weather Gods"

"You mean, manifest destiny of sorts, as you had explained"

"Yes, you remember that? Good boy"

"Uncle, I try to keep up. But what can I do? I can't help it if I got your retention power"

"I know, that's why your mother always felt betrayed for not getting that part of the family genes. Because I could memorise whole chapters, let alone the slightest remarks uttered by anyone and she struggled to even learn word meanings. She still envies me for that quality. Actually, she gets fed up with your questions. Dropping you off to spend the weekends with your beloved Uncle is just an excuse to get her peace of mind. Or maybe, she brushes up her memory tricks to plan the next week with you in focus. She knows she has to keep up with the chatterbox and his pile-up of pending enquiries. Maybe she consults an encyclopaedia fit for the purpose with a title like HOW TO RAISE CHILDREN WITHOUT RUNNING OUT OF ANSWERS. There are books like that out there, believe me"

I always broke into peels of joyful laughter when we'd share something on these lines, the point of levity being my younger sister and our childhood. Samridh, this time, too joined in with thunderous laughter of his own. He agreed with his mother's temperament. But we loved her deeply for being the glue that held a familial unit together. We joked amongst ourselves that maybe the formidable lady was eavesdropping on us and will be ready to give one of our delicate ears a twirl. Or join in unexpectedly with giggles of her own.

In these unguarded moments, Samridh reminded me a lot of a boy I knew who was similarly curious, his interest piqued by the little things around him and whom everybody had dubbed as a talking parrot because of his endless streams of back and forth with anyone who cared enough to attend to his worldviews. Now, that boy has outgrown his petite stature. The man in the mirror now standing at 5 ft. 9 inches tall stares back at me.

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"Uncle, you didn't answer me. What indeed is the meaning of God's presence on Earth?", with this, he knocked me back to the present moment, each word coming from him precious to my ears, each expressive articulation unadorned and beautiful, stringing a young life, innocent and drinking in sights and sounds to the lees. Just like how an eight year old should be.