On Birdbaths in the Lawn

There's something about the birdbaths that always engaged me in rapture. A common feature of most tea bungalow lawns, the birdbath was always more than a landscaping accessory. It was an escape into fairyland for a shy and passive girl, someone who had a pixie residing in her.

The birdbath occupied a prominent position in our lawns; always whitewashed, to make it visible enough for my feathered friends, whose flight I still fancy. On waking up every morning, I would long to catch a sight of my friends chirping away at the birdbath. I loved to see the dewy grass being warmed up by the happy Sun. In fact, I could sit on the lawn watching the birdbath through the day, and only the  honking of a vehicle at the driveway would rein me into the reality of my world. 

The lawn was a place of considerable human activity with the Maalees going about their usual chores such as mowing, weeding, planting and watering. One of them would fill up the birdbath with some water from his 'Jhinjri' or watering can while walking dutifully across the length of the lawn. The disciplined tasks of the Maalees would be punctuated with some casual banter that would invariably centre around the elephants coming from the adjoining forest to consume the rice beer made by the workers and the consequences of dealing with an inebriated elephant !!

Then my friends would come and sit at the edge of the birdbath to sip in some cool water and exchange a few notes with each other before resuming their flight. These were the moments I craved to see and never tired of. Every drop of water that trickled down their tiny beaks soothed me and their chirping beckoned me to join them.... they were messengers from Enid Blyton's fairyland. I was ever so eager to trade places with the pixies and fairies.

The afternoons were never to be wasted in siesta but to be spent lazing around with a book in my hand, waiting again for the birdbath to come alive. It stood tall and gracefully in the lawn encircled with a bed of dainty flowers. Every time the birds came, I thought they had some interesting news for me. The afternoon Sun drew more birds to their oasis, the birdbath. I wondered if they were actually pixies in disguise, for,I felt an unfathomable connect. Would they have some pixie dust for me, hiding in their little tails ?!

I pondered over the position I'd like to choose for myself between a bird that fancies its flight and a birdbath that gave joy to the birds. I wished that by some druid's potion, I would shrink to the size of a falling leaf, just enough to be able to slip into the birdbath myself ! Yes, that is a child's train of thought, justified from its own standpoint of reason.. 

The rains made me sad; it took away the joy of meeting my friends at the birdbath. I would sit on the edge of the wrought iron chairs in the veranda, gazing silently at the birdbath, hoping in vain for my friends to show up at our usual rendezvous.

In my years of growing up, I learnt to give, like the birdbath; it has been a companion in my journey so far, making my heart resonate with the joy of giving. A poignant lesson that emerged from my experience was that beauty could only be felt with a heart that is pure and a mind that is uncluttered.

It is raining again, but I am not sad anymore. Haven't I transformed into the birdbath myself, giving and receiving such bliss that one calls ' a family.'