Every spring the birds were there in my backyard and it was always a sight to see. They came in flocks, chirping away and filling the air with their sweet melodies. As a nature lover, I always looked forward to this time of year, and I would spend hours watching them from my window or sitting outside with a cup of tea.



The birds usually arrived around mid-March, just as the weather was starting to warm up. They came from all over, some traveling thousands of miles, and they always seemed so happy to be back. They would flit from tree to tree, checking out their old nesting spots and singing to each other in excitement.



Once they had settled in, it was time to start building their nests. I always loved watching them do this, as they used whatever materials they could find, from twigs and leaves to bits of string and even scraps of paper. They were so meticulous, making sure that every piece was in just the right place, and it was fascinating to see how they worked together to create their homes.



By mid-April, the first chicks would start to hatch, and it was a joy to watch the parents caring for their young. They would bring them food, protect them from predators, and teach them how to fly. It was a busy time, with lots of activity in the backyard, but it was also a time of great beauty and wonder.



As summer approached, the birds would start to leave one by one, heading back to their winter homes. It was always a little sad to see them go, but I knew that they would be back again the following year. And so, I would say goodbye to my feathered friends, grateful for the time we had spent together and looking forward to the next springtime visit.

Every spring the birds were there in my backyard. Hundreds of them flocking together all of different colours and creed. Spring was a special season for me. It was the time to live anew.

About five springs earlier I had been struck with the deadly disease of cancer. My hair was shaved off and I was confined to bed. I had lost all hope of living. My bedroom window opened to the backyard. I would gaze out of it. There was a big mango tree. The first blossoms were just blooming. Many families of birds resided in the tree. Since I had nothing to do I watched them.

There was one specific parrot family. The family was full-house always chattering and whistling. The parrot parents had their beaks full serving their ever-hungry nestlings. There were five little birds. I could see them grow except one which was very sickly. Like me it was skeletal and bare. Its feathers were not properly developed, flying was far-off it could hardly hop. I felt a common kinship with this little one. The mother parrot was always attending it like my mother.

The little bird was very brave. It fought hard to live. As time flew so did its siblings but it stayed on feeding on the fruits nearby. I instructed my mother to set some pots on my window sill. In them I planted several chillies and sun-flower saplings. Soon the plants grew healthily with my constant tending and bore food for my parrot friend.

The parrot was overjoyed. It would hop to my window, ravish the chillies, mimic my salutations. We became fast friends.

A miracle happened somewhat synchronous for both of us. I recovered from the grip of the 'Emperor of Maladies' so did the parrot from its ailment. I went back to school, the parrot flew away to begin its family. But every spring it would come to my backyard with a huge extended family of other birds. My backyard would suddenly burst with twittering and flutterings and I would be reminded that ‘life is beautiful and worth living’.