A high school memory - A small story with baby birds

A high school memory - A small story with baby birds 

When I was in high school, a sparrow had built a nest behind a picture frame (not picture, actually a painting by my mother) in our house. The frame was slightly tilted and fixed, leaving enough space for the nest.

One day, in the span of a few days, both the adult sparrows died after hitting the ceiling fan.
What was left behind were tiny baby birds—squeaking the whole day.

I tried feeding them cooked rice, sticking small bits to my finger and gently placing it into their tiny beaks. Soon, my younger sister joined me, feeding them the same way. It worked.

Day by day, they grew. A few days later, their wings began to take shape, and they stepped out of the nest—hopping all over the aangan (courtyard). Watching them survive, grow, and explore was a feeling beyond words.

After a few days, they hopped over to the neighbours’ house, where friends also began feeding them.
And then, one day, they flew off… into their own world.

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Such small memories can really make feel great at times. 

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