Independence Day Special: Author and environmentalist Ranjit Lal decodes how freedom has everything to do with love

“Oh, that — wait a tick — I’ll be back!”

He lived just two flights down and was back, carrying a large cardboard box. “Happy birthday! Hope you like them…”

Carefully, Sudha opened the box. A large wire birdcage was inside, filled with plaintively squeaking multi-coloured birds slightly smaller than sparrows. They were crimson, green, blue, golden and orange. She looked at Lalit.

“What are they? They’re beautiful!”

“The fellow said they were munias! They eat birdseed. You can get some from Mrs Kapur.”

Old Mrs Kapur ran an animal shelter where Lalit and Sudha had been helping out for years.
“Oh yes, darling, they are munias and unfortunately, they’ve been dyed… Lalit was so excited about giving them to you I didn’t have the heart to tell him…’ Mrs Kapur told her later.

After Lalit had left, Sudha showed the birds to her mother. “Mama, Lalit gave these to me…” she looked troubled, “I…I don’t want to keep them — I want to set them free. They should be flying free in the big blue yonder living their dreams!”

“Dear, then free them — they’re yours!”

“Ya, but Lalit will be so upset…”

“Darling, then free them with him and tell him why you want to free them. I’m sure he’ll understand!”

So Sudha dragged Lalit up to the terrace the following evening carrying the birdcage. “Lalit, I want us to free them…” she said, looking at him, “They should be flying free, following their dreams, not hopping around in a cage.”

“Set them free?” Lalit said, a little hollowly. He had taken a hefty loan from his mother to pay for them and now Sudha wanted to let them go! Like pouring expensive whisky down the drain.
“Yes, come on now.” She unlatched the door and opened it. With a whirr, the birds, about 12 of them flew off in a cloud of colour. All, except two which crouched at the far end of the cage.
“Come on out babies,” Sudha reached in and drew one out. “Lalit, she’s so light!” she said, amazed. “Here hold her, I’ll take the other one out.”

They held the tiny birds in their cupped palms. “Okay, on the count of three we let them go the way those VIPs let go of peaceful doves!” Sudha exclaimed, “One! Two! Three!”

The little birds took off and Sudha looked delightedly at Lalit. “Didn’t that give you a lovely feeling? Like you were taking off with them?” she asked. He nodded — something inside him had lifted off just like the bird, when he had let it go, but still…

They were back on the terrace the following evening to watch an approaching thunderstorm. Sudha tucked Lalit’s arm into hers and eyed him. He still seemed a little morose.

“Think of how happy those birds must be!” she said, “And if they’re happy, I’m happy!” He nodded. Then, he froze. Something small and light had landed on his head. Sudha’s eyes widened.

“Lalit, there’s a golden munia perched on your head…” Another joined in, and there on the railing, four or five multi-coloured ones stood in a neat queue as if awaiting their turn… Slowly, Sudha took out her mobile.

The next day, when Sudha was away shopping at Dilli Haat with her mother, he showed the pictures to old Mrs Kapur.

“Aunty, why do you think they came back?” he asked.

The old lady’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Lalit, when you love something or someone you want to have them forever but you can’t be sure they love you back unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Dear, unless you let them go and be free. If they come back to you then you know they love you.”

“You mean those little birds loved me?”

“Not only those little birds, Lalit.”

“Oh,” he went scarlet. “Er, thanks Aunty!” He fled.

Sudha’s mom’s car was back in its parking spot, so he sprinted up to their flat and rang the bell. Sudha opened the door, her denim skirt askew, hair tousled, big (new) silver balis dangling.
“Hi!” Lalit had flung his arms around her and planted two smacking wet ones on her cheeks before she knew what was happening. “You… you came back.”

“Of course I did, you moron, we only went to Dilli Haat!” Behind her, her mom grinned, a scarlet Lalit turned and plunged down the stairs. Sudha turned to her mom.

“Mama, that Lalit is totally nuts!” she said. But inside, her little palpitating heart glowed pure gold.

Ranjit Lal is an author, environmentalist and bird watcher