It was the sixth day of the new year, and Archit, who was tired of working, wanted to read a book that he had not read in a long time, Norwegian Wood, which was written by Haruki Murakami (* interesting fact: this book was translated twice into English, and Archit had the one translated by Jay Rubin). He had only read the first chapter of the book. So what he does is, at around 5 p.m., he shuts down his laptop and goes to the terrace of his rented place in Bengaluru. Along with the book, he also takes with him sticky notes and a pen to write down any line or word he likes from the book.
He begins re-reading chapter 1 because he had only read the first chapter a few weeks before.As he starts reading, he finds a beautiful line that reminds him of the person he met during his trip to Chennai and Pondicherry. He starts writing that line from the book on the sticky note, which says: "Deep within her own pupils, a heavy, black liquid swirled in a strange whirlpool pattern." He sticks that note to the very page of the book where he read that line in such a way that one could go back to that line at any point in time just by turning the page with the help of the sticky note. As he continues to read, he walks around the terrace, humming in his mind the song by The Beatles called, wait for it, "Norwegian Wood."
*Humming… "I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me?" And suddenly he stops; his attention goes towards an old man who is on a different building exactly diagonal to him, where he is cleaning his terrace, and at the same time he hears birds chirping at a distance. Archit shifted to Bengaluru 4-5 months ago and had hardly been to the terrace of his building, and even if he did, it was during the night. So this was the first time he went to the terrace when there was some light from the sun lighting it up. This was also the first time he realised that there was a big cage, or one could say it was a bird house full of birds, on the terrace of another building. And that was the terrace of the building the old man was cleaning. He was bald, with a thick white beard on the lower end of his face, which looked like a crescent moon, and his eyes were lit by the orangish sky. With earphones on, he was brooming the terrace area, and it looked like he moved in a way as if he was about to hit a hook step on a beat.
Archit liked the way the birds chirped in sync with the sound of the broom that came out of each stroke of the broom on the floor. He came out of the symphony of brooms and birds and wanted to see the birds. So he moves closer to the old man’s building, trying to seek the old man’s attention to ask permission to come there and see the birds. He was a bit scared to ask the old man, so he tried to stare at the old man and read his book as if trying to telepathically convey his message, and, after a while of dancing glances, the old man looks at Archit, and Archit throws out the words that were stuck at the brink of his lips: "Sir, "Can I come there to watch the birds?" And the old man takes off his right earphone and asks, "What?" Then Archit breathes out the bit of fear he had and asks again. "Can I come there and see the birds?" he asked, to which the old man replied, "Sure, sure."
So Archit, without even acknowledging the old man’s answer, runs down to his home, keeps his book, stickies, and pen, and goes to the old man’s terrace.
Archit sees the big cage filled with birds of different colours and sizes sitting in pairs, fighting, kissing, and hanging upside down. Beside this cage stood the old man with a broom in his hand, smiling just enough to build a curved bridge across the ends of his lips. The first words that Archit uttered after looking at the man were "Thank you, sir." The old man comes close to Archit and asks, "What do you do?"
Archit responds:
Archit: I am an engineer.
Old man: Where do you work?
I work at Tata Motors.
So they continue talking and asking each other questions.
Archit looks at the birds and asks:
A: Have you named these birds?
Old man replies:
O: No, they don’t have particular names. They are called love birds, and if you see them, they are in pairs.
Yes, I noticed that.
There was another cage with a few birds beside the bigger birdhouse.
O: The birds in here are called cocktail birds, and if you notice, these birds have spikey hair.
A: Yes, they look cool.
Archit starts asking more questions, trying to learn more about the old man and the birds.
A: By the way, sir, do you do this daily? I mean cleaning the terrace, the bird house, and preparing food for the birds.
O: Yes, I do this every day, both in the morning and evening; it takes me an hour to clean this bird house, provide them food, and also prepare food for the next day.
A: Food for next day?
O: Yes, I need to soak the wheat grains in water for a day so that they are soft enough the next day for the birds to eat.
A: Ohh! Interesting. By the way, sir, why did you seal the upper part of the cage?
O: We have too many cats around here, and they try to catch the birds or scratch them, so I, with the help of my son, have put this up to protect them.
A: Sir, How long have you been a resident of Bangalore?
O: I am from Chennai, and I moved here 40 years ago. I worked in HAL as a security officer. I retired in 2012. Since then, Bengaluru is my home, and I built this place a few years ago. My younger son and his wife live with me, and my elder son stays away.
A: Nice, sir, so when you are not here, who feeds the birds?
O: It is because of these birds I don’t go anywhere. My son goes to work everyday, my daughter-in-law goes to office for 3 days in a week and My grandchildren go to school. My partner also left me here with these birds and she must be smiling looking at me from above serving these love birds said the Old man with a smile on his face.
A: with a sad face sorry, sir.
O: Hey, please don’t be. You know, whenever a bird tries to console another bird, it reminds me of Indu and myself trying to talk to each other after a fight.
A: *smiles* Oh, that's so sweet.
Archit realises he didn’t introduce himself and tells
A: Sir, *laughs* I forgot to introduce myself; my name is Archit.
O: Oh yeah (laughs) I'm Bhakthanandeshwar, but a guy at school couldn't spell my name, so he wrote it as Bhakthan; ever since, my name has been Bhakthan.
A: *laughs* and after a pause asks "Sir, is it okay if I visit you and the birds sometime?".
Bhakthan: Smiles and hugs Archit and Tells, please come. I will be very happy. I am also happy to have talked to someone; it feels good.
A: Thank you, sir.
Archit leaves with birds of happiness flying in his head, hitting the right spots in the brain to produce the hormone of happiness.
Thank you for reading.
~ Darshan Shanbhag
