The Tale of the Parakeet
The day had dawned with the sunrays pouring through my window,
I saw myself scratching my head,
Since the number of gripping ideas in my brain amounted to zero.
I had been asked to compose something-- which will leave readers deeply moved,
How could I explain that my thinking tank had been exhausted.
People say- writers can write about anything that they see in their vicinity,
I turned my bleary eyes around and put my head down on the table for some more snoozing.
Suddenly, I heard a sharp thud followed by some shrieks,
I went outside to find an eagle flying and under a stones' heap,
Some blood and a badly wounded parakeet.
The wounds didn't affect its natural beauty,
Its treatment and recovery became my supreme duty.
I hadn't any experience in doctoring a bird,
So, calling my professional vet friend was much preferred.
As I paced ahead to ring the doctor up,
Boom-- lights went off with no other backup.
I made up my mind to take the risk,
I applied some common medications on her wounds,
With a hope that she would soon be brisk.
She called in agony with excruciating pain,
Every moment that I applied the liquid on her body sprains,
With my heart palpitating, I think I would faint.
She was pushed to her limits,
But never-- even for once did she submit,
With courage and tolerance was she gifted.
Humans have anaesthesia to escape unbearable hurt,
Living beings with such indefatigable endurance are surely in dearth,
As the uphill battle was over, I kept her to rest on my cotton shirt.
In 2 days’, she could fly up to the nearby canterbury,
Her rapid convalescence made my heart go merry.
I wanted to keep her close to me,
But she throughout perched on my window sill,
As if there was something desperate for her to seek.
I realized that she was born for flight,
As I opened the window, she fluttered her wings and glided in broad daylight.
But-- just as I thought that she would turn into a speck on the horizon,
She came flapping back to my backyard for apparently a very crucial reason.
To find what things, I ran sooner,
And discovered 2 eggs safely placed in a comfortable hole quarter.
I could now connect the dots,
She was protecting them from the eagle
And struggled so hard that day to bring into the world her tiny tots.
She was an epitome of a mother's love,
For which she could tolerate all suffering and pain.
I paced towards my house and suddenly remembered my pending writing work,
Now I knew what to write,
So, I got back to work with a jerk.
Copyright © Deepannita Mukherjee | Year Posted 2021
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