Categories
Blue Moon Stories

Birdie

There was a bird at my window. It came there everyday. At four-thirty in the afternoon.

The window was an old ventilator that had been recently sealed with glass because it was close to the ceiling, too tall to reach without a ladder and I had been afraid it would make an easy entry for the pests. Well, now I couldn’t reach the beautiful bird.

I wondered what it wanted. Perhaps it was hungry. Poor little thing.

I ordered a bird feeder and climbed up the stairs to the terrace from where I could hang the feeder close to the bird’s favorite window. I put some grains in it and waited excitedly for the afternoon.

At four-thirty, it arrived and completely ignored the feeder. It flapped its wings against the glass pane and called. As if it were telling us something. So, not hungry then.

The next morning my husband kept a little dish with water near the feeder. Maybe the little guy was thirsty?

It was back on time. But it disregarded the water and preferred to crash against the window like every day. As if the window would suddenly have opened for him after days of doing just that. It was trying to get in. But why! What was in our house!

We googled the bird. It was a red-whiskered bulbul. It really was strikingly beautiful. Sang in a melodius four note call. Quite adorable with its mohawk hairstyle and specs of black and red. But although google helped us get to know our visitor’s family better, it hadn’t been much help in knowing what our visitor may have wanted. What did he want, our dear bulbul?

The next morning we were woken up by urgent knocking. Yes, the bulbul had returned. And at 6 am this time too. I pulled the blanket up on my eyes and went back to sleep. But the incessant knocking went on and on. This was beginning to get tiresome, huh.

I got out of bed and walked rather angrily to the window but was instantly mollified. There were two of them this time. Our birdie had a friend. I waved to them. They flew away.

Soon enough, they were back. The guy bird and the girl bird, I guessed. They both wanted to get in. They would turn and look at an empty loft right across the window. The loft was as tall as the window, so we had no means of reaching it without significant effort either. Maybe they could spot something there that they wanted? Lizards or insects or bugs? I hoped not.

I checked the bird feeder at night. They hadn’t eaten much. I took it away and also took away our little disc with water. They clearly hadn’t cared for any of it and I clearly had failed to understand what they wanted. Fine. No more guessing.

A few days went by like this. The bird show went on. One day we came back home from the doctor’s. We were very happy. We were going to have a baby.

I went back to work. We grew accustomed to the noise at the window almost to the point that it stopped being a sound we registered anymore. It went on in the background. I wasn’t anymore trying to solve a problem I didn’t understand.

One day I was watering the plants in our front yard when I heard a rustling in the shrubs. I turned my water hose toward the source of the noise. The water brought out a shiny black cobra at me, its hood raised. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I threw the hose away and ran back inside the house, shrieking. I shut all the doors and latched the windows. My husband came out of the shower hearing the commotion. I grabbed him tightly.

“There is a cobra in our garden! I need you to get this snake out of here anyhow, okay! We need to snake-proof the house! We can’t have a baby being raised in a house where snakes can come in so easily! Who knows what else is lurking out there in the shrubs. We need to do something!” I frantically clutched at my non-existent baby-bump.

“Okay, okay.” he said. “Okay, we will. Calm down.”

I tried to. Calm down. Then there was the knock again.

The two birds were back at the window. I looked at the watch. Four-thirty. And then it hit me. Suddenly. Ahhhh. This time I knew it in my gut. They wanted to build a nest in our loft!

I looked at my husband and smiled. “They are having babies.”

Categories
Blue Moon Stories

Soulmates

A pensive 20-year-old girl sits at the window of a bedroom, her head resting against the glass. There are two empty beds in the room. It is early evening. No lights are switched on. A 15-year-old enters the room and watches her. She comes and sits next to her and calls to her softly-

“Dee Dee..”

There is no response. DeeDee’s hand, holding one of the window rods, slides down limply. The 15-year-old persists…

“I want to tell you something.”

DeeDee’s eyes blink and a tear rolls down her cheek. The 15-year-old continues quietly…

“Love is the most wonderful feeling in the world, yet this us what it does…

DeeDee won’t move.

“Please let go no DeeDee. Didn’t you say that memories are just past? You still have your present… I want to tell you something, but you have to pay attention to me…”

The 15-year-old glances at the pillow and we see a small edge of a diary peeping from under it.

“Please…”

At this moment, DeeDee faintly stirs, looks dazedly around the room, and slowly comes and sits on the bed.

The 15-year-old starts smiling to herself. DeeDee looks at the other bed and notices the diary. She immediately picks it up and lifts out the bookmark to go to the last written page.

“Dear Diary,

It was the stupidest day at college today. I hate that teacher. I broke my favorite bracelet also and lost it somewhere. I tried calling DeeDee to speak to her about it and I suddenly realized I had run out of balance. There are these moments that I simply HAVE to talk to her and no one else! And then suddenly, she called! She said she had this urge to call me right away and find out how I was doing. Can you believe it! I was soooo happyyy!!

This happens so many times with us. It’s so awesome. It’s like our souls are connected forever. We don’t need the phone! Hell, we don’t even need the words!! We don’t need anything. We are connected forever. ”

DeeDee breaks down sobbing, still holding the diary. The 15-year-old has disappeared.

Next to DeeDee is photo frame on the table. It has a picture of two little girls holding hands, grinning widely.

Categories
Speaking of Things

One Time DSLR

Today, it is eight years since she touched me. Eight years since that wondrous time I had with her in Italy- in sunny Bologna and dreamy Venice and blissful Florence. Eight years since I have been out of this dingy corner of her house. Eight long years of waiting for that touch that never comes. My fate is like that of my many friends after all. I am a one time DSLR, single use.

I am old and tired, anyway. Maybe even outdated. She perhaps has a younger model now who clicks better pictures of her. Makes her happier. Probably with him, she has already been to Rio or even Paris…

My time has come. I can sense it. The dark claws of death are creeping on me to take my light away. This dust and humidity is suffocating my insides. No more shutters and flashes and lights and colours…

Wait, something just happened. What’s this. Did someone just touch me? Yes! It’s her. Oh oh, she is picking me up. My eyes are opening…

A baby! There is a new toddler in the house! And you know what that means, don’t you?

Bye bye death, we will meet again another day. I have plenty of work now.

– One time DSLR no more.