THE FLYING LOVERS

Once as I was relaxing,

And whiling away time to glory,

I spotted: On my green terrace,

There were two cute bulbuls,

Trying to build their sweet home,

To make their sweet small family.

They co-operated with each other, with great love,

Understandingly they shared their work,

As one got the twigs, the other would weave,

Sweetly singing, “tweet-tweet” as they,

Passionately built their home, sweet home,

To make their sweet small family.

Both husband and wife, very adorable,

Hopped and played on the terrace,

Day and night as they struggled hard,

They took breaks and romanced in water,

In the bird bath, beside their sweet home,

Where they planned their sweet small family.

They saw left, right and all around,

To make sure, no one was eyeing,

And there were no predators around,

Evil and cunning, like the hungry crows,

Wait to destroy their nurtured sweet home,

And wreck their cute small family.

One fine day, the mother bird,

Laid her three small eggs,

Cute and tiny they were,

Pink in colour, in their cozy nest,

The birds had built their sweet home

And almost made their small family.

But despite being very careful,

And intelligent in their planning,

The villain of the story ‘the crow’,

Came and attacked the three little eggs,

Destroyed the birds’ sweet home,

And finished their cute small family.

But the cute little couple,

Undisturbed and strong willed,

Found another place in our garden,

Where they started their work again,

To build their little sweet home,

And make their small family.

Unfortunately, this time too,

The sweet home was not as strong,

To withstand the blow of the wind,

And lo! It fell down to the ground,

Again was shattered their sweet home,

And the dreams to make their small family.

After this, they found another place,

In the next street, on a small tree.

For sure, they felt it was safe and sound,

From the cruel crow and the fierce wind.

Finally they built their sweet home,

And made their sweet small family.

The faith they had on themselves,

And the love that bound them together,

Filled them with high hopes and spirits,

And made it possible for them to once again,

Build their strong sweet home,

And make their small family.

At last, the eggs hatched and the babies squeaked,

What a sight it was to see them learn to fly,

Days passed like minutes, and with a blink of an eye,

They were big enough to lead their own life,

And they set off to build their sweet homes,

And to make their own small families.

From this incident, we have to realize,

That every bird has to fly some day,

To face problems is a part of life,

There will always come happiness our way,

Not losing hopes and trying hard again,

And victory will be ours, one fine day.

                                                    

 _ Mridula. N. Murthy