Fiddler on the Roof

By Kushwant Singh

Spring has given way to summer. My mango tree, which was in flower
till last month, has shed them and is loaded with tiny fruits. So are
my citrus trees – lemons, oranges and grape-fruit. A couple of weeks
ago, I spent my morning under a peach tree in full bloom. I now sit
under the same tree with clusters of unripe peaches. The same birds
visit my back garden – babblers, bulbuls, magpies, robins and,
occasionally, purple sunbirds, to steal last drops of nectar. Kites
wheel round in the blue sky. Crows, pigeons and doves fly in and out
as do white and blue butterflies. Barbets have been calling to each
other for over a month.

Nothing seems to have changed very much over the year except two
things: I haven't seen a sparrow in these months; they used to fly
everywhere, in and out of my flat. Come to think of it, any time it
rained, earthworms that supplemented sparrow diet would be littered on
the lawn. We have had several showers, but I have not seen a single
worm. And I have yet to hear the call of a koel. In past years I often
heard them on cold winter nights. We are close to Baisakhi and not a
distant note. Is it that they have decided that Delhi is no longer
worth living in? I am inclined to agree, but I continue to live in
Delhi. Their numbers have dwindled to a dangerous low. If steps are
not taken, they may disappear forever.

Who cares! We are so obsessed with political wranglings, social
scandals, murders, rapes and other human preoccupations that leave us
little time to ponder over the rapid decline of other forms of life.

All we do is to pay lip service to the notion of preserving the
environment. Little or nothing is being done to restrict the reckless
use of poisonous insecticides and pesticides. No political party has
given this any importance.

If we continue to remain indifferent, bird song will become a memory
of the past, our springs will be marked by silence.