The Hindi word for sparrow is goraiya It skips across my tongue and lingers in my mouth like the aftertaste of toffee Goraiya I like that word If I had to draw a picture of a sparrow with sound My word would sound like goraiya
You tell me they travel in flocks That they like bathing in the summer By hopping off a table and skidding in water You tell me that the males are pretty but the women run the show
They don’t chirp among strangers These sparrows They avoid eye contact and move only if you’re very Very Still
You tell me about the time you tried to catch them With a rope and stick and some rice Sometimes they didn’t let you nap in the day time Because their symphony was louder than your dreams
How I see the sparrow, you say Depends on who I am A child will play their games An old man will listen to their music So I wonder what I’ll see In this mirror of a bird
She makes eye contact if you’re still Because that’s how she knows you’re listening She lets herself be caught So that she has something to fight for Her favourite part of the day Is when she learns a new word That skips across her tongue And lingers like the aftertaste of toffee
She flicks from puddle to puddle Sharing her words with those building dictionaries of their own Of course she won’t let you nap in the day time Because the sun is out The trees have cracked their knuckles And today’s the day she sings her symphony
Some stories aren’t written but felt They melt into your skin like a mother’s smile Some stories are so simple They open windows inside us we didn’t know still opened And all it takes is a word that sounds like its picture
You tell me that sparrows don’t chirp among strangers We are no longer strangers
Synesthesia - Red by Kashi
Quickening red sad emotions well as I stumble Speechless until red becomes the rage Quickening rage thundering heart takes over Till the release of tornado leaving destruction Along its wake
Indian poet, Pragya Bhagat, wrote about sparrows. Scroll to the end to find my response to her piece.