Where Love Finds Home
(This story explores a bond that grows not from blood relations, but from care and affection.)
Yousuf Mir
“Sometimes, people living under the same roof become strangers to one another. And sometimes, a stranger comes to your door, receives a little care, and becomes part of your home.”
“Hello, Majid.”
Sajid spoke into his phone.
“My friend, go to my house. There’s a shoe rack in the veranda. On the third shelf, on the right, you’ll find a red shoe. The house key is hidden inside it. Take the key and open the door.”
He paused, then continued.
“Go up to the roof, too. Remove the sheet covering the cage and give both birds some food and water.”
After a moment, he added, “Please make sure you do that. All right, I’ll hang up now.”
Sajid ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket.
It was the evening of October 4, and the wedding was to take place the following day. Sajid had arrived a day early to attend the wedding of a close relative. Relatives and friends had gathered at the house, where preparations were in full swing. In one corner of the courtyard, food was being prepared, while chairs had been arranged nearby for the guests.
Sajid sat among them, with Sahil beside him.
The phone conversation had caught Sahil’s attention. As soon as Sajid ended the call, Sahil asked, “Even here, you’re worrying about home?”
Sajid smiled.
“Not about the house.”
Sahil looked puzzled. “Then what?”
“I have two birds at home. I was calling about them.”
“Two birds?”
“Yes, two birds.”
Sahil smiled. “You care about them so much that even at a wedding, you have to make sure they get their food and water?”
Sajid looked at him.
“Of course. They’re no longer just birds. They’ve become part of my home.”
Sahil was quiet for a moment before asking, “Tell me how it all began.”
Sajid leaned back in his chair.
“It happened about seven years ago…”
“One day, I returned home from my shop and found a tiny bird lying near the veranda. It had probably been attacked by an animal. It was terribly weak. When I picked it up, its little body was trembling.”
He paused before continuing.
“I brought it inside, gave it some water and food, and treated its wound. For the first two or three days, I thought it might not survive. But gradually, it began opening its eyes and looking at me.”
Sahil listened attentively.
“Within ten or twelve days, it had recovered considerably. One day, I let it go, thinking it would fly away and return to its own world. And it did fly away… but by evening, it was back.”
“Back?” Sahil asked.
“Yes. It flew away again the next day, only to return once more. After a few days, I got into the habit of looking for it as soon as I woke up. Sometimes it was in the veranda, sometimes near the window, and sometimes on the roof.”
A faint smile appeared on Sajid’s face.
“Eventually, I made a small cage for it and named it Chinnu.”
“Chinnu?” Sahil repeated with a laugh.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Then I began to think that it spent the whole day alone. It needed a companion.”
Sajid continued, “One day, I went to the market and saw a man selling different kinds of birds. There were brown ones, white ones, yellow ones… and among them was a blue bird. My eyes kept returning to that one.”
“And you bought it?”
“For three hundred rupees.”
Sahil smiled. “And named it Neelu?”
“Yes.”
After a brief pause, Sajid said, “At first, I wondered whether Chinnu would accept the newcomer. But perhaps Chinnu, too, had been waiting for company. When I placed them together, they watched each other for a while. Then Neelu gave a soft chirp, and Chinnu immediately replied.”
Warmth entered Sajid’s voice as he recalled those moments.
“Before long, they were inseparable, as if they had known each other for years.”
“Do they still live in the cage?” Sahil asked.
“The cage is their home, not their prison.”
Sahil looked at him curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“When the door is open, they come out. Sometimes they sit on the roof, sometimes in the veranda, and sometimes inside a room. After a while, they return to the cage on their own. By evening, their chirping fills the whole house.”
“Can you understand what they’re saying?” Sahil asked.
Sajid laughed.
“Perhaps.”
Then he added, “When Chinnu chirps for a while, Neelu answers. Sometimes, if one falls silent, the other goes and sits beside it. It feels as though they’re having a conversation.”
“What do they talk about?” Sahil asked.
Sajid thought for a moment.
“Sometimes, I imagine Chinnu asking, ‘Who is truly our own?’”
He smiled gently.
“And Neelu seems to answer, ‘The one who makes you their own.’”
For a while, neither spoke.
The clatter of utensils came from a nearby corner, and someone called out, “Tea is ready!”
Sahil glanced towards the voice, then turned back to Sajid.
“How did you become so attached to these two little birds?”
Sajid did not answer immediately.
“Perhaps because they never asked me what I was to them.”
Sahil looked at him, waiting.
“I picked up Chinnu when it was injured. It didn’t know me at all. I treated its wound and gave it food and water. Once it recovered, it kept coming back.”
He paused.
“I had no connection with Neelu either. I brought it home from the market. Yet, within days, both birds had grown comfortable with me.”
Just then, a young man passed by and placed a hand on Sajid’s shoulder.
“Sajid Bhai, could you come over for a moment? There’s some work to be done.”
“I’ll be there,” Sajid replied.
The young man walked away.
Sahil watched him go, then asked, “Have you ever thought that we humans make the same mistake in our relationships?”
Sajid looked at him questioningly.
“What mistake?”
“We give importance to the relationship itself, but often forget the affection that should go with it.”
Sajid nodded slowly.
“Perhaps you’re right. Sometimes, people living under the same roof become strangers to one another. And sometimes, a stranger comes to your door, receives a little care, and becomes part of your home.”
Sahil seemed to be thinking about his words when Sajid’s phone rang again.
He glanced at the screen.
“It’s Majid.”
He answered.
“Yes, Majid…”
He listened for a few moments, then asked, “Have you put out the food and water?”
He listened again.
“Are both of them all right?”
When Majid replied, Sajid smiled with relief.
“Good. All right, close the door and put the key back where it was.”
He ended the call.
“Everything all right?” Sahil asked.
“Yes,” Sajid replied with a smile. “Chinnu and Neelu have had their food and water.”
Just then, the tea arrived. They drank it and rose to help with the wedding preparations.
As Sahil walked alongside Sajid, he kept thinking about their conversation. He remembered how naturally Sajid had spoken about the two little birds, as though they were members of his family.
“Sajid,” he said with a smile, “after the wedding tomorrow, take me to your house. I’d like to meet Chinnu and Neelu.”
Sajid looked pleased.
“Of course. They’ll recognise you, too.”
“And what if they don’t?” Sahil asked with a laugh.
“Then sit with them for a while. Give them some food and change their water. Spend a little time with them, and you’ll see. They’ll soon get used to you.”
Sahil nodded, and the two joined the others in the wedding preparations.
The house remained alive with activity. People hurried about, making arrangements, calling to one another and preparing for the following day’s celebration.
Away from the bustle, on the rooftop, Chinnu and Neelu sat close together inside their little cage. As the evening light faded, one gave a soft chirp, and the other answered.
Sahil glanced towards the rooftop and smiled. Sajid’s words returned to him, simple yet full of meaning.
“The one who makes you their own…”
He carried the thought with him as he walked on beside Sajid, while the two little birds remained close together above the noise and excitement of the wedding preparations.
“True relationships are not always defined by blood or family ties; sometimes, they are built through a little kindness, unconditional care and the affection we extend to another living being.”
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