Me and my Kingfisher

I would not have ever written this, had it not been for the kingfisher. It has been unusually quiet for the last couple of days. The chirping has come to a minimal and the song’s just not there. I look towards it, each time expecting it to chirp. Never before it made me wait for so long after promising that it will sing ‘in a short while’. In the morning I waited, half expecting it to sing a fresh new tune. But as the hours rolled by, I have let that expectation to rest. In fact, just before sundown, I had uncomfortably settled down to the deafening silence until an unexpected chirping pierced through. And unruffled my composure. Then it went quiet again after falsely reminding me to expect.

The shore has just been washed with a ‘new’ wave. The shells are all gone and the beach is clean. I have never missed visiting the beach when in town - in the mornings, afternoons and evenings. The time of the day or the occasion never mattered. I have always treasured the moments - to get wet, to let the wind caress my cheeks, to let the whispers travel a thousand miles, to feel the sand under the bare feet. But yesterday was very different. I was on shore but never stepped out on the beach. I don’t remember when did I do it last. Yet there were footprints. Indelible ones….which even the waves would not wash. I am sitting here alone watching the incessant play at work. The kingfisher is giving me company like it always does. And as the sun rolled down and it became cooler, I had some migratory birds for company, helping me to drown in the moment and forget to expect. They are all gone now and am alone again with the kingfisher. I try not to look at it because I might start expecting again. Maybe even that it’ll break into a song. It’s hard to resist the occasional glances though. But the kingfisher does not oblige. It is a different night, tonight. The beach is dark and cold. I want to go out there, but am scared. An unknown fear has gripped me. The intensity and the rarity of this fear both combine to potentially change things forever. For I have never felt this way. I have braved many days and nights to be on the beach so clearly today am not ‘threatened’ by the new wave. It’s something else that pervades me.

I really do not know why the kingfisher could not sing yesterday. It has left me in a state of shock – bewildered, amused, confused. Was it so difficult for it to connect to its joy just because the new wave had come rolling by? Was it wrong to expect? Why did it have to chirp then? Was it only to tease? I have questions, which I’ll never ask. Because it will not lessen the pain. Because there is no one to ask. I am on the shore here all by myself with the kingfisher for company. And silence for a friend. Uncomfortable but settling down to a new me.