As a child, the only way to make me eat was to tell a story — a story where humans became sparrows and spent the whole day on a tree chirping; a story where sparrows went on a mission to bring the moon for the crying baby (which would be me, of course)… In all those stories, playfully narrated by my grandfather, the sparrows would always be the hero.
I would usually catch the small wonders doing a hoppity-skippity skip in my verandah, or on the gulmohar tree near Gagandeep’s house where they lived happily ever after in their nest with their just-borns.
But the best view of sparrows was from my classroom window, especially during the Maths class when Mrs Tandon would be helping us cram the table of 5.
The sparrows would come there to drink water from the overflowing tap. My only wish then was to arrange a straw for them.
Over a period of time, Mrs Tandon got so impressed with my actions during her class that she permanently sent me packing outside the classroom. Those were the best days of my life when I’d utter a chee-chee or a choo-choo hoping that they would make some sense out of my clap-trap and come flying to me.
Well that never happened, but one of those blessed days when I was thrown out of the class for not doing my Maths homework, I found a lone sparrow lying peacefully near the tap, as if sleeping after attending Mrs Tandon’s 24-hour Maths class.
Will she fly away if I go near her? I wondered. She didn’t. So, I picked her up in my palms, which were just the size of her, and wrapped her in my handkerchief. Again, a blessed day when I remembered to carry the handkerchief after ma gave me an earful for wiping the curry-stained hands on my shirt.
I wanted to climb the fence of the school and escape with the sleeping beauty, but Mrs Tandon had a 360 degree vision. I felt she was watching me even when I was at home — just like that gecko in the corner of a bathroom wall watching you bathe.
“I am going to lock you in the toilet,” Mrs Tandon screamed with a power of ten race to the power of 100, literally sending a 440 volts current running through my arteries, veins and caterpillars…whatever!
The bird fell off my hands and in a fraction of a millisecond, a cat pounced and took my sleeping beauty away to some land unknown.
It took my grandfather 50-odd stories to convince me that the cat had taken the sparrow to the hospital for treatment.
Years after as I was coping with the loss of my grandfather, a sparrow came from some land unknown, and gently perched on my right shoulder. And then I knew, I just knew then that grandfather had managed to save my sleeping beauty from the clutches of the crafty cat!
