I never heard birds chirping in Delhi. There were either loud noises of vehicles, vendors selling all sort of stuff or noises coming from people’s houses bustling with morning activity. Of course in Delhi I lived in a very narrow and crowded street, but even when I am in Gurgaon, it is only very very early in the morning that I can tune into radio chirping 🙂

I had never experienced the bliss of listening to birds and wind chimes in the holy presence of solemn silence, until very recently. Hums of the refrigerator and a power unit far away along with the sound of my fingers hitting the keyboard surround me right now. And it is beautiful. As beautiful as a walk in some forest early in the morning with fresh dew sparkling on sharp blades of grass.

In our backyard we enjoy the shade and foliage of an old sycamore tree which is home to all sorts of birds. It is quite a nuisance in fall and winter since we get to own the foliage  clean up. But all through the year, that tree is my best distraction. One look out of the window at the tree transports me inside it. Within those branches and leaves I find nests for all the birds that contribute to my morning symphony. I begin to wonder how such a disparate variety of birds exists together in the same ecosystem – the tree is much like a microcosm of the world itself. The nests are each unique as well. Some more intricate than others. Some very close to each other, and some very far apart.

Ever since my experience of being unable to communicate with the bird that had entered our garage accidently, I have been mesmerized by them. How do they go on living in the same world as I do with so less intellect and so much drive? What I call drive is nothing but their will to survive.

This survival instinct is equally distributed in all living beings. It is up to us how and when we consume it. What a fair way to distribute power one would think. Yet we continue to live in an unfair world. The same survival instinct that is bestowed upon this little being inside of me is equally shared by the men in Gaza and Syria and Iraq, and the birds in the giant tree in my backyard. Ultimately it is what each of us does with that instinct that shapes our future.

Agam shared this video on Google plus and we watched the full length documentary last week. The undeterred spirit of the jihadists is finding its way into their children. Will these children ever forget what is happening to their parents and their land? Will their definition of fighting for survival always be colored by these horrendous experiences? Are they cognizant of the impact their ravenous interpretation of survival instinct will have on their own future? Will their memories be forever tainted with sounds of gunshots and bombs? Will they even survive to see the fruit or in other words poison of their labor?

Will these kids ever hear the birds chirp in solemn silence like me?

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