કાણિયું

દેવ નું દીધેલ

I push the door again. It was closed from inside. Strange. Mom knew I was out for a morning walk.. "Come from the Back door" she tells me when I ask her to open the door. As I enter the house from back door, she says 'an Injured Babbler baby has come.' I walk to the small front room it was placed in. With door closed and bird sitting on the floor, not enough light to see clearly, but that babbler sized bird definitely was a dove. He sat there on the ground upright.

I am not good at remembering visuals. ok, remembering is not the right word, ability to recall visual knowledge in visual form is.. if that makes sense. i.e. ask me to draw / dictate / or even just visualise how a street I pass by daily looks like - you get nothing. I may identify a person even if meeting him/her after long long gap, but ask me to visually recall even someone I meet daily- none of my neurons will fire. (though this disability is reduced greatly wrt to photographs. somehow I can recall a photograph of a person without that great difficulty.). For very long I had thought that people drawing sketches of someone/something from memory as just a stupid fiction created by some unknowledable fiction writers. Not anymore. Since that morning of 17th May, anytime I try to recall the moment I first saw that baby dove, even when he was barely visible in that room with windows and door closed, I can see it again as I could see it then (though still cant draw). And I had no idea then - that not having video-graphic memory was to be a disability no more till he was there with me.

I open windows, see him closely in the light. Head injury, one eye badly injured- most probably lost. yellow strands of infancy feathers still in abundance over near full greenish-grey feathers, tail as short as it could be. The other eye that was unhurt was having no fear or anxiety in it, it was not even curiously focused on the animal with evil reputation sitting in front of him in this completely alien environment. Yes, it was what I guess infancy shield to fear - when fear is not able to serve any useful purpose, why have it? but, there was something else too about its personality.. Anyway, he sat there as if nothing had happened, doing what he was supposed to do - preening continuously, as if having no doubt that everything else is just fine.

I tell mom it was not a babbler but a dove baby - Eurasian collared dove baby and ask how did it arrive? Kids playing out there found it and they delivered it here thinking we can take care of it she says. Where? How long back? to which she informs only a few mins back. I did not know what I should be doing but as a reflex reaction, I put some water in front of the baby bird, sprinkle some turmeric on head injury, call a friend asking to look up what do Eurasian collared dove baby eat (internet wasn't working as usual) and go out to see if those kids were still around. I find them not far away. They show me the tree from which nest was broken, show place (almost 20-30 meters away from the nest) where they found the dove baby and also showed me that its parent was looking for the baby near the nest tree.

Feeding the Dove baby - The problem and an easy solution

I get back, have breakfast (very unusual of me not to get hyperactive and rush and avoid having breakfast despite knowing I wont fare very well in doing so), pick up the baby dove, go and show to the parent who was surely looking for it and was anxious not finding it. I go there, hold the baby high, try to make it as visible as possible to parent and then put it on the ground. Parent notices the baby, comes somewhat near it but doesn't come all the way. Meanwhile the baby, not quite dull even in that low light room had burst into activeness as soon as it was out of the door, under the open sky. Such a small thing, heavily injured not too long ago was also difficult to keep in my hands for few meters from home to nest tree (no, it was not a struggle to escape, it was in fact display of activeness in safety of protecting hands.) The parent, however wouldn't close the remaining distance. I keep going farther thinking parent is afraid of me, but no luck.

Then, another parent arrived. I show the baby to it as well and back off again. In no time the Mother was next to the baby, who was screaming with joy at the prospect of getting food. She feeds him, like the baby, she too show no concern about situations not quite 'normal'. i.e. that baby was out of the nest, on ground, injured and carried here by a human. She simply comes, stays near the baby for a while, feeds and flies off - all the while the first parent, who was now termed Father keeps watching with uncertainty. After a short-while however, he too comes down cautiously, as he approaches baby making sound announcing his presence, the baby sensing his presence puts all its energy and enthusiasm in asking food and finally gets his father feed him. It was nearly 45 mins now that I was sitting with the baby there. but it was well worth it. Baby was accepted by parents, they were both feeding it. Baby appeared healthy and happy.

I did not have to worry about what to feed, how to feed. All I needed to do was sit there guarding the baby and rest will be taken care of. I was relieved at this easy and instant success at this unexpected problem which was looking quite difficult an hour ago.

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I intend to make it multi-part post. yes, It is not any narrative intended to convey some idea / thoughts etc. but only and purely an factual account of those days with my baby dove. Why I felt I should clarify this is that life is not constrained by compulsion of having a point. and if you read thinking it has any point and keep trying to find some, you may be disappointed. I am also not in any position to guarantee that mood, level of detail or anything within any two parts will have harmony - for, all I have right now is the first past above. and I never manage to know what kind of and if at all I will be able to write next sentence. (I did think of writing the whole stuff first and then posting in parts, but if I aim at that, I probably may end up not writing it.)