An Ashy Prinia on the balcony and hope

An Ashy Prinia on our balcony, illustration

Right in the middle of the busy chaotic traffic junction that our apartment is close to, there is a tree. Unmindful of all that rushing and hustle and bustle around it, this placid tree stands like an oasis. There are tiny birds in this tree, which my mother tells me are called Ashy Prinia. 

Sometimes they sit on the electricity wires that connect our part of the locality to the other side of the road and they look so pretty - like some kind of lively fairy lights, the way they twitter and weave their way. Specks against the sky, finally settling to a comfortable spot. There are too many of them and it is delightful to see their industriousness. They usually confine themselves to the tree. Only during sunrise and sunset and in the rains, they scatter about the terraces. We can see  them from our sixth floor apartment and through the binoculars, we can get a pretty clear view of what they are up to.

My mother can often be found with her eyes peeled on these birds. There are many birds in our part of the city. Sometimes, when mum spots a new one - she calls out to me, excited and I look through the binoculars. Once I saw an owl yawn, and it gave me such a happy jolt because for hours I had been trying to spot where it was, while mum went frantic showing me where it was and wondering how anybody could possibly not see it. I saw it at the exact moment it gave a little ruffle around its neck, yawned wide and flew away ( They are especially adorable when they yawn). I was lucky to see whatever little I could. 

Mum has tried many things to get the Ashy Prinias to come close. Perhaps an ideal is to have them feed from her hands. She has scattered grain on the balcony, only to find the pigeons interested. The Pigeons  are like those guests who make themselves too comfortable and refuse to leave, flinging aside all social decorum! She has tempted the Prinias with bowls of water, cooing to them, coaxing them in the most loving way, calling them all sorts of loving names, but they've always been too far away and shy to ever come to us. 

But the other day it rained. It was around sunset and it was starting to get dark outside. Both me and my mother were in the hall, our mind on other things when mother looked up to see an Ashy Prinia sitting on the sill in between the balcony sliding windows. It stood there for a few minutes, but I must have moved to get a better view that it flew away. I never thought the bird would ever come to our side of the apartment - the distance is too far and there is nothing to attract it here. I had thought it was impossible. But when I did see it, I felt a surge of hope. That sometimes unexpected things happen and if you are lucky, like my mother, to look up at the right time, you will get an affirmation that what you often believe to be impossible could, in fact, happen.