The Continuum of Life
- Feb 17, 2022
- 1 min read
Currently, I live in my childhood home at New Delhi, India. A constant stage of change that is accessible to me these days is the life of pigeons in my balcony. A set of stories transpire and the observer within me, first found in my love for psychology, can’t help but watch closely. About a week ago two chicks were living peacefully, then one went missing soon after. The parents kept checking every now and then. One morning as I was passing through the window, I noticed another bird carrying the last remaining chick with its feet sitting on the balcony railing. By the time I went out, it has flown away. The next day an adult pigeon was found sitting peacefully dead in the same space, naturally as if it had chosen to rest itself there for life’s last moments. Fortunately, the last song I had played on my harmonica for these last tenants was a lullaby. A day later pigeons were again breeding and playing in the same area, one or two resting in the same previous space of life and death. Within a week a case of kidnapping and death by heart-break had happened in their world. Regardless, they still knew the necessity of generating life, not despite death but because of its constant possibility.
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