Two Cuckoos

There lived an old cuckoo on a big banyan tree. That part of the valley was not inhabited by many birds because water was in scarcity. The cuckoo was born there and lived her entire life on the same tree. Every evening, she used to sing songs. But her songs were sad in nature. She missed her kids – her two kids she had lost after a storm. Every morning she looked at the rising sun and sighed – she had still a long life to live – without any happiness and without any love…

One night, again, there was a giant storm. There were thunders in the sky and it rained very heavily this time. Cuckoo was happy for the rain, but her immediate worry was to save herself. She survived by entering into the hole of a squirrel. When she woke up in the morning, sun had come up high. She was feeling tired. She sat on the highest branch of the tree and sadly looked around - everything was in a state of mess. Suddenly, her eyes caught hold of something.

There were 3-4 cuckoos lying dead on the ground. She immediately went there. That was a family of cuckoos; father mother and two kids… Probably all dead… Hey! One of the kids was still alive! The old cuckoo took the baby to her home and took care of her. It was a challenge for her to make the baby alright. Her efforts bore fruits and the baby became alright in some days. Thereafter, almost everything changed for the better.

The days of the old cuckoo became busier. She was not only busy but also buzzing with life. After all, her life had got a goal now. The relationship between our old cuckoo and the little cuckoo was like a mother and a daughter. The baby was so small that she didn’t remember anything from her previous life and enjoyed the place as her own. She called the old cuckoo “Ma”. And Ma cuckoo was happy like never before… Some animals who used to pass by the banyan tree, noticed the change in her life and congratulated her… Days were lovely and nights peaceful… Until one night, she got a dream.

In her dream, she was speaking to herself. Her image was asking her to tell the baby cuckoo that she was not her real mother and her home place was towards the North. She refuted the idea, asking what the use was when her whole family was dead. Just imagining the little cuckoo going away and she becoming alone, haunted her and tears started flowing from her eyes. She woke up, crying…

The next night, she got the same dream. She ignored it again…

After some more weeks of peaceful life, one morning the old cuckoo woke up with high fever. The little cuckoo became worried and brought her good food and didn’t allow her to do any household work. In a few days, fever went away. But it seemed signs of old age or whatever it was – the old cuckoo never became like before again. In between she started getting one health complication or the other… Young cuckoo nursed her and their relationship still was of warmth and boundless love… But then, the dream came to her again…

The old cuckoo was in a great dilemma. Now that she was ill she needed the young cuckoo more than ever. But illness also brought another line of thought to her. Was not she being selfish in disallowing the young cuckoo the pleasures of a reckless life? Did not she also deserve to know the truth about her parents, or the freedom to go to her birthplace by choice? After all, the old cuckoo herself had never moved out of her place because of love for her motherland. All these thoughts gradually made her feel that she was about to lose her younger one… That was a terrible feeling… She cried in the night… From that day, she stopped singing at all…

One day, she made up her mind. She told all the facts to her younger cuckoo. By this time the young cuckoo had become strong and could support herself. The younger cuckoo was in all tears knowing about her past life and about the old cuckoo who she had thought to be her mother. Both kept sitting there not speaking a word, for hours… That evening, no cuckoo sang from that banyan tree…

Today, the young cuckoo is gone to her ‘own’ place. She had promised to come back as soon as she could, but that doesn’t console the old cuckoo. Our old cuckoo put up a very brave front until the young cuckoo was there with her. But once she was gone, she broke down… She didn’t eat anything for days and kept crying all the time…

One evening, a cuckoo sang from the same banyan tree. The voice was that of the old cuckoo, but there was a change… It had become much graver and it was in fact a voice of sadness and plight…

After that, every evening, a cuckoo sang from that tree… But no one could hear any voice… In the depth of her solitary sadness, her voice had sunk in…

It is harder to lose after finding; than to find after losing.