Whatever Happened to Kaga Mama?
In search of hope
A flock of sparrows had sought the deepest of the dense, dark shade of a gnarled old mango tree. There were a few luscious mangos still hanging on the very top of the tree that people had been unable to pick, but none of the sparrows even looked at the fruit. They were just too hot.
“Why is it still so hot?” moaned one. “There’s not a drop of rain yet!”
“Yes, the rains should have been here weeks ago!” agreed another, peering hopelessly up at the cloudless sky.
“The weather gods seem completely confused this year,” said a woodpecker, taking a break from his tapping. “There are floods in some places and fires somewhere else!”
“You know Kaga Mama, the old crow who lives in the gulmohur, two trees down the street? He hasn’t been seen for ages,” piped up a barbet.
“Do you think he’s lost in a cyclone?” asked a parrot dolefully. “We hear they are blowing everything away this year, even the monsoons. Maybe Kaga Mama has been blown to bits,” he added with miserable relish.
A troop of babblers squawked in horror, and huddled closer together despite the heat.
“Don’t be silly,” said an old sparrow bracingly. “Kaga Mama is a tough old bird, he would have taken shelter somewhere. He’ll be back.”
“I don’t know,” said the parrot. “Even if he escaped the storm, he might have starved to death, had a heatstroke, bashed his head against a glass window, choked on plastic, been crushed as flat as a leaf by a car or hacked to pieces by blades in a wind farm…”
“STOP!” twittered the sparrows in unison. “Why must you be so morbid?”
“My entire Hiraman clan is on the brink of extinction,” said the mournful parrot. “How can I be otherwise?”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said the old sparrow. “Sparrows are facing similar troubles, though perhaps my flock has been fortunate—people have been putting out seed and water where we live, and looking after their parks. So our tribe has increased a bit.”
“You are lucky,” chimed in a skinny sparrow from another flock. “Where I live, the trees have disappeared. It’s difficult to find safe nesting spots and food for our chicks. The ground is covered with concrete, there are no ponds left, and the rain, when it falls, can’t seep into the earth.” She turned to the parrot in sympathy. “We are worried too.”
“Save the earth, save the earth,” cried the babblers all together.
“The earth doesn’t need saving, she’ll just regenerate without us,” said the parrot. “It’s we who need saving!”
The birds sat in gloomy contemplation for a while.
“Maybe the Great Cloud Bird will know what to do,” suggested the woodpecker at last.
“We can visit him!” said the sparrows, glad of something positive to do. “We’ll meet him, and see if we can bring back some ideas.”
“Goodbye, goodbye,” they called and off they flew.
“Goodbye and good luck,” cried the other birds.
“Don’t forget to keep an eye out for old Kaga Mama!” called Hiraman, a smidgeon more hopeful now.
Story copyright © Shaiontoni Bose and Rohini Chowdhury 2023.
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