Fledglings With A Hope

I wondered, how they survived without the mother, when she would go out to fetch food for the newborns. They had been recently hatched out. I, a spectator, would love to see the little birds, still with the closed eyes, anticipating the mother's arrival. The custom I followed as a child when I would sit near the window for hours until she arrived in the evening from her routine endeavours. The longingness for the mother's warm hug; an unquenchable feeling. Her hug was mystical sometimes compounded with the healing impact. Ah! how could she do it? I was cured of the mild headaches, pain and surprisingly even nervousness. The smaller me, believed she was a magician. Once, after a fracas at school, I ran to her. I was stifled and edgy, full of angst, when she had hold me tight and kissed my forehead and the magic happened. I thought, if every mother was a magician? Maybe.

The little birds clenched each other with a trust of not letting go the siblings while their protector was away. And the mother? She trusted whom? What if her birdlings are stolen? And what if she would never return? Maybe she entrusted the job of taking care of her fledglings on the supreme power. Or maybe she just took some moment to not to trust on anyone but her instincts. Yes, the motherly instincts. Nobody can imagine or guess the origination of those intuitions. But yes, it exists. Even for the unborn child, many a times a would be mother uses her own mental disposition to guess its uncomfortableness. A woman flips to a sorcerer.

But she came back, her beak bringing food, her feathers carrying trust, her heart bearing tenderness and she lovingly fed her fledgelings with passion. They were tightly clutching her assuming to never let her go leaving them behind alone. A fear turned to a comfort visible enough to melt any single heart. She would teach them to fly, to build a nest, to sustain in this crazy world: a mother being the first and the best teacher. And her fledgelings had hope, belief and faith on their creator. Yes, she created them. My mother once looking at me exclaimed, 'how could I create such a cute being!', told to me by her sister. I was amused at my mother’s sudden proclaimed conjecture.  But years later, the motherhood inside me spoke affectionately, the similar words when I was a mother for the first time. I was ready to bestow all my love and admiration on my little progeny. I could fight the world for my child. And I wondered, who had conferred this sudden power on me. From where have I received this strength and ability. I remember of not standing up for myself many a times. But now I am a changed person only within nine months from the day of my conception of this tiny seed inside me.

And I supposed, this birdie, too had similar convictions for her scions as mine. An expression of love definitely to be reciprocated sometime in future by her descendants.