There is a small patch outside our house where there are a few trees, one Sitaphal, one Curry-patta, a two year old mango, a one year old Neem, and one Kaner; another one with white flowers, and one of which I don’t know the name. This is a captive patch, and we can plant anything here.
It is enough to give us a little greenery, and gives shade to one sun facing wall. Delhi at worst can be 45C in shade.
We spotted some activity by red vented Bulbul here in one tree for a few months and saw a nest. This category of birds was dear to Khushwant Singh, the great Delhi writer; I learnt the nomenclature from his writing.
Yesterday we photographed the three chicks and remembered this poem we read sixty years ago! Notice the Upanishad-type spiritual undertones of the simple writing!
(Four young ones of a bird go around the world, once they are ready to fly, finally coming back to the nest and declaring to the waiting mother,” East or west, home is the best.”)
एक चिड़िया के बच्चे चार
घर से निकले पंख पसार
उत्तर से वो दक्षिण आये
पूरब से वो पश्चिम धाये
घूम घाम कर घर को आये माता को ये वचन सुनाये
देख लिया हमने जग सारा
अपना घर है सबसे प्यारा