Lost home

Our home in Kolkata is at a place which was till date relatively green. There are many vacant plots around waiting for houses to be built. Though we knew someday there will be houses everywhere, we were enjoying the green. Trees and bushes don’t know that they are limited by human actions, and were growing freely; whereas various animals had made their homes there.

This vacant plot of land behind our house had two big trees and many bushes, some even growing human size. Looking at this green gave the feeling of being close to some wilderness. A variety of birds had built their nests on those trees, and small animals made those bushes, holes in the ground their home. In the morning it was soothing to look at the green, enjoy the chirping of the birds. It was a paradise for common birds like crows, sparrows, shalik, to different kinds of kingfishers, woodpeckers, doves, kadakhocha, badrika, bou-katha-ka, parrots, bulbul, finge and many more. You would suddenly see a mongoose running by, and it was fun watching the squirrels eating nuts sitting on our back fence. Cuckoos used to sing declaring the spring time. And it was a real delight to watch the birds returning home as dusk would approach. Birds in flocks would come back to the safe shelter of their nests, chirping, telling their stories and adventures of the day to each other, creating one of the most beautiful music. This piece of green for us provided a soothing lap of Mother Nature.

And this January, when we were in India, this piece of green was snatched away in the preparation of turning it into concrete. Even though we already saw it coming, it made us sad no less. The original owner finally sold the plot, and the new owner is already building his house. And the first thing done was clearing the plot, cutting down those trees..

One morning we got up to see axes striking the thick trunks of those trees. And at the end of the day, those two big trees were there lying as pieces of wood. The green land was turned into a barren one with only some roots of those bushes and grasses visible. And soon it will turn into some modern house.

As the birds returned that evening, they didn’t find their nests. The trees were lying down as pieces on ground; and their homes, where they returned to, were gone. The mongoose didn’t know anymore where to hide. The chirping of the birds that evening didn’t tell their stories, it was of despair. It didn’t make music; it was only their cries for their lost home. Each single piece of straw they had picked for days to build their nests; and now brick by brick someone else’s home will come up there. Till late in the evening, they complained, they searched for in vain. And helplessly they finally gave in. They were gone! Nature forever turned its face away from there. No birds will be there to make music anymore. No cuckoo will ever sign there again, as there will be no crow nest to lay its egg.

And we will never realize that we are building the foundation of our home on shattered homes of others.