352: Secure with the wings

Monday Musings: Secure with the Wings.

‘What is it to be secure’, asked the little sparrow to her mother as she clung to her bosom.

They were in a nest, warm with figs and branches. The nest had been made painstakingly over a long stretch of time – one fig and leaf at a time. It was the labour of love for the mother sparrow. The nest was hoisted upon two strong branches of a very large tree. The tree was the biggest in that area and everyone wanted their nest only on that tree for the strength it provided. It was a privilege to have the nest on this tree.

All birds vied, and some fought for a space on the branches of this big tree. It was not uncommon to see even sparrows fighting for a space on this tree – sparrows that were known to be delicate and friendly otherwise. One knows of eagles and vultures fighting, for it is in their nature to fight; however sparrows’ fighting was unusual. Life in a jungle can make for strange sights. The search for security can bring out the worst even in sparrows. The vying for the opportunity to make a nest on this tree had seen some very strange things over the years – sparrows’ fighting was only one of them.

So the mother sparrow was very proud of herself that she had built this nest for her little one and herself on this tree. The memory of how it was built might be hazy but her pride was fresh. Her sense of security was fresh and intact. She flew all around the jungle as the morning broke over the jungle, secure in the comfort that she could return to this warm nest on the strongest tree in the jungle. She flew with confidence, mingled with other sparrows, went about her life with this sense of security. The nest gave her security. The tree gave her security.

The mother sparrow thought about all of this as she pondered over the question of the little sparrow. There was something about the question that she could not shrug off even after she had answered to her little one and went over the answer in her mind over and over again. There was something incomplete about her answer that gnawed in her mind even if she did not know of it. Life in the jungle continued unabated. The mornings and the nights fell just as it was their wont for a million of years. Seasons came and went and even though every day seemed like a new one, she often wondered if they were really new. Sparrows have been doing this for hundreds of years now – the getting up in the morning with the warm morning sun filtering through the leaves, the flying all around searching for worms and seeds and returning back to nests. This sparrow might believe her journey is unique and her journey is unique and her struggle for survival is unique. Uniqueness is such an overrated pursuit – she thought to herself. It is important to have a search for it, for otherwise life in the jungle could become so boring. The idea that all of this has happened a million of times and no one ever got out of it alive can be depressing. So they weave a narrative that the jungle will last forever and the nest will keep them warm and secure forever. The mother sparrow brushed these thoughts aside as she talked to the little one about how secure this nest was on this big strong tree. It was difficult for her to distinguish if she was telling this story to her little one or to herself.

It was almost without warning that the storm came. The winds were ferocious and the rains were lethal and the lightening was fatal. It was the first time the little one was seeing all of this. She clung to the mother even more tightly searching for security. The jungle had seen nature’s fury before also, and so had the mother sparrow but for the little one, it was the first time. The wind was making the strong tree sway perilously. She was surprised and shocked for she always believed the tree to be strong. She could not imagine that even this tree could be made to sway and bring it so close to being uprooted. Her shock was on the border of disillusionment. The warm nest was slowly filling with water and with that the warmth that it always provided went away. There was a real chance that they would drown in the very nest that was home and provided them security all this while. The figs were untangling by the moment and suddenly the nest was no longer warm or secure any longer. It was just a matter of time before they had to take the decision to abandon the nest and the tree. The young sparrow looked into the eyes of the mother sparrow with so many questions, and for the first time she realised that the mother sparrow did not have answers, that she was not sure of what to do.

The moment that was hanging over their head soon arrived. The nest overflowed with water and the tree shook dangerously. The young sparrow and the mother sparrow fluttered their wings and hesitantly flew out of the nest and the branch they had called home for so long. They struggled to keep themselves flying through the storm and flew out to a safe place amidst some rocks nearby.

It was clear to the little one that it was the strength in their wings that gave them security – neither the nest, not the strength and size of the tree.

Guru