The Paradise Flycatcher

by Deepak Dalal

  Maitreya’s hand shot up again. ‘Sir, the Amazon. It is one of the greatest rivers in the world. Its source is in the Andes Mountains and it flows mainly through Brazil. The forests that surround the river are among the finest in the world.’

  This time spittle spouted Amazon-like from Mr Paranjpe. Mitalee hurriedly stepped aside as it squirted in a wet arc about her.

  ‘AGAIN!’ he howled. The class turned deadly quiet. Mr Paranjpe looked positively scary. His eyes had turned an ominous shade of red, their glow magnified by his spectacles. Spittle soaked the lower half of his face.

  ‘Again you disobey me! How dare you! I warned you. Now it is you I shall punish. You will stay back in class every day. Every day, you hear me! Every day for the rest of the term. And you will work while you sit. You will write “I shall never disobey Mr Paranjpe again.” You will fill an entire notebook each day and leave only after handing me the notebook. Is that understood?’

  Maitreya nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Back,’ he shouted at Mitalee. ‘Get back and sit down.’

  Thrilled at her let-off, Mitalee hurried to her seat, worried that Mr Paranjpe might change his mind and call her back. But the teacher switched his attention to the blackboard, resuming his lecture on the rivers of the world.

  As Mr Paranjpe droned on, Maitreya’s classmates sneaked glances at him, some marvelling at his pluck for taking on Mr Paranjpe, others wondering how he would cope with the heavy punishment doled out to him. But Maitreya seemed unruffled, as if his tiff with Mr Paranjpe was an ordinary occurrence. He smiled at the curious faces turned to him, winking at Chintu and Arjun when they looked at him. After a while, interest waned and his classmates stared dully at Mr Paranjpe as he strove to enlighten them about the Danube, the Volga and other great rivers.

  While Mr Paranjpe lectured them about the Brahmaputra, tracing its turbulent flow across the Tibetan Plateau, Maitreya scribbled a note on a scrap of paper. Folding it, he handed it to Alisha, the girl sitting beside him. When she looked inquiringly at him, he pointed at Mitalee, who sat beside her. Shrugging, Alisha handed the note to Mitalee.

  Mitalee slowly unfolded the note. Pointing at a map, Mr Paranjpe identified the sharp bend that the River Brahmaputra carves through the Himalayan Mountains to enter India. She stared at the scribbled message.

  Deeply sorry for having injured the squirrel at Chintu’s place. Promise never to do anything so cruel ever again.

  Although Mitalee was keenly aware that Maitreya was staring at her, she did not look up. With no change of expression, she tore up the note and then gazed at Mr Paranjpe, who was now outlining the flow of the mighty river through the states of Arunachal and Assam.

  The lunch bell rang when Mr Paranjpe was speaking about the River Ganges. The class quickly dispersed and outside, in the school quadrangle, Chintu and Arjun caught up with Maitreya.

  ‘You crazy?’ asked Arjun. ‘Nobody ever takes on old Pompous the way you did!’

  ‘I’ve never seen Pompous froth like that,’ said Chintu. ‘Whatever did you do that for? You got a crush on that bird girl, or what?’

  ‘Nah,’ said Maitreya. ‘No crush. I was feeling bad for her. I saw her draw picture after picture of that squirrel. Poor thing. She really loves that squirrel, doesn’t she?’

  Chintu rolled his eyes. ‘Aw . . . poor thing,’ he said with great drama. ‘Poor, poor thing.’

  Arjun grinned. ‘Yeah. Poor thing! I pity her, because she’s never going to find her beloved pet.’

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ laughed the two boys.

  ‘Hey,’ said Maitreya, ‘why do you say she’s never going to find the squirrel? And what’s so funny? Do you guys know something about this?’

  ‘Nah!’ Chintu waved dismissively. ‘How would we know? We just don’t like pets, that’s all. Not exotic pets like squirrels, right, Arjun?’

  ‘Nope, we don’t like pets,’ said Arjun. ‘No to pets. No to pet exotica.’

  Chintu’s face lit up. ‘No to pet exotica!’ Then he erupted with laughter again.

  Maitreya stared at his friends. They were beside themselves with laughter. ‘Pet exotica?’ he queried. ‘What’s this pet exotica business? I don’t understand.’

  Chintu wiped tears from his eyes. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, fighting to control his mirth. ‘Forget about it. Just a joke between Arjun and me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Arjun, ‘forget about it. We’ve got to go. It’s late. We won’t find seats in the dining hall.’

  Chintu placed an arm around Maitreya’s shoulder as they walked. ‘Some advice for you, Maitreya. You’re new around here, but don’t do what you just did again. Don’t stick your neck out again in old Pompous’s class, especially not for that bird girl and her squirrel.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Arjun. ‘Speaking of the bird girl, there she is.’

  Maitreya looked up. Mitalee and Alisha were stepping out of the dining hall. Their eyes met and Maitreya’s heart leapt. Mitalee’s gaze wasn’t cold, as it had been on the earlier occasions they had crossed each other. Was there a glimmer of warmth in them? But Maitreya was destined never to know because at that moment, Mitalee saw Chintu—and his arm around Maitreya’s shoulder. Her eyes flickered, frosting over, and she looked away.

  ‘Oh, my,’ sneered Chintu, spotting Mitalee abruptly turning her head. ‘Looking away. Snobbish, aren’t we?’

  ‘Don’t be mean, Chintu,’ said Arjun. ‘Can’t you see? She’s missing her dear white-headed squirrel.’

  ‘Oh, yes, her pet. Her favourite pet, the squirrel. Hah. He’s gone. Gone forever. Poor squirrel, sad squirrel.’

  ‘Pet exotica!’ said Arjun.

  Both burst out laughing. Mitalee and Alisha swept by, paying no heed to the cackling. The boys entered the dining hall, Chintu and Arjun still sniggering.

  The Wires

  The wires are a hang-out for birds. So popular are they that every area has its own wires, where local birds gather to swap stories and trade gossip. The wires in Neelpaani were a set of human telephone lines strung through an open field, just a short flight from the Rose Garden. Birds thronged the wires every day. Most stopped to chat and exchange news before flying on. But there were those that chose to spend their entire day there. These were the regulars, and every set of wires had its enthusiasts—who, come rain or shine, always visited, never missing a day. For many summers now, Neelpaani’s regulars were Bongo the drongo and his friends—Ming, the kingfisher, and Stroller, the roller.

  Bongo’s friends were already perched on the wires when he and Senora flew in the next morning.

  ‘There you are, Bongo,’ greeted Stroller the roller. ‘Late as usual. We can always count on our black-feathered friend being the last to arrive.’

  ‘Yeah,’ chirped Ming the kingfisher. ‘Not like us. We are the early birds. We get the worms. You don’t, Bongo! Ha ha!’

  Stroller snorted. ‘Bad joke,’ he said. ‘Stupid. Like something humans might chirp. Hey, who’s this birdie with Bongo? An iora, I see. Who’s your iora friend, Bongo?’

  Bongo introduced Senora.

  ‘Hey,’ squawked Ming, ‘we heard about your Rose Garden squirrel. The white-headed one. He’s missing, right?’

  Senora was surprised. ‘How did you birds get to know?’ she asked.

  ‘News streaks across the wires,’ boasted the kingfisher. ‘Flashes faster than even a peregrine falcon. We know everything.’

  ‘Yeah,’ squawked Stroller. ‘This is the place you come to for news. Everything you want to know about our bird world, you’ll learn here. It’s true! I’m a dumb dodo if what I say is false. Even news of penguins—perched here on these wires, we know what’s happening in their distant ice-bound home. And migrations? We have the latest on them. Up-to-date accounts, that’s what we’ll give you. The Arctic terns, the cranes, the godwits, the seagulls—you can learn about all those epic journeys across the planet here. Bird-nappings, the weather, gossip, matters of the Sky Council—the latest, the trending stories—that’s
what we broadcast here at the wires. This is the place to be.’

  Ming bobbed his head. ‘Yeah, it’s all happening here. But tell us about your squirrel. Is he dead? Did a kill-bird get him?’

  ‘No, he isn’t dead,’ said Senora. ‘He’s missing! He was last seen the day before with a paradise flycatcher. I’ve come here for news on the flycatcher. Has any bird seen one lately in Neelpaani?’

  ‘A paradise flycatcher?’ Stroller frowned. ‘No, not that I know of. None have dropped by the wires recently.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Bongo. ‘But there could be some in the area. We have to find out. This is a job for the scouts. Call them in, Ming. Sound the call!’

  Ming puffed out his chest and trumpeted a loud, piercing call. Filling his chest once more, he boomed another, this one even louder.

  Almost instantly, a bird call echoed in reply.

  Stroller nodded appreciatively. ‘Excellent scouts, these minivets. Young and raw they may be, but they seem mighty capable. The Sky Council should be told about them.’

  ‘Uh-uh,’ said Bongo. ‘Not yet. It’s too early to take a call on them. Yes, they are good birds, but they have to prove themselves. We’ll test them with the paradise flycatcher. Let’s see if they find the bird.’

  It wasn’t long before two birds flew in. Both were brightly coloured: one red and the other a dazzling yellow. Senora was introduced to the birds. The red minivet—male—was Scarlet and the yellow one—female—was Bright-Jet.

  Bongo quickly described the nature of the assignment to the birds. ‘Search the area fast,’ said the drongo in conclusion. ‘Find the paradise flycatcher. There’s no time to be lost. Fly away now. May Greatbill speed your wings.’

  ‘Can I go with them?’ asked Senora. ‘I could help.’

  The minivets looked at each other. They shuffled awkwardly and fluffed their wings.

  ‘You’ll slow them down,’ said Stroller. ‘Scarlet and Bright-Jet are trained scouts. They work as a team. Leave this task to them.’

  ‘Sorry,’ squawked Scarlet as he rose, flapping his crimson wings.

  ‘Another time!’ Bright-Jet smiled. Her wings blazed gaudily as she followed Scarlet to the sky.

  Time passed quickly on the wires. Afterwards, Senora wouldn’t recall a single dull moment during the hours she spent waiting for the minivets to return. Birds kept dropping by, delivering news from far and wide. Senora discovered that the monsoon winds had started to blow early. A sandpiper had noticed their blustery presence on a pebbly beach. The sandpiper had told an egret, who’d told a parakeet, who’d told the green barbet that dropped by on the wires. The iora also found out that the summer heat had turned intense; ponds were drying up and water was turning scarce in the forests. A hoopoe broadcasted the water story. A sulking heron, for whom the ponds were a source of food, confirmed the hoopoe’s story. The wires were a place of learning too. Senora learnt about geese and cranes and their migration, about the hornbills of the Southern Forests* and about partridges that lived in the cold, snowy mountains.

  Very soon, Bongo’s devotion to the wires became clear to Senora. She now understood why he never missed a single day here. The wires suited the black bird’s personality perfectly. If there was any such thing as a bird of leisure, then it was Bongo who embodied that role. The drongo hated hard work and exercise. His favourite pastime was talk and gossip. The wires were just the place for him, as the only exertion here was the waggling of beaks. His friends Ming the kingfisher and Stroller the roller were no different from Bongo. They delighted in the constant movement of birds and in the exchange of news and gossip and rumour and scandal.

  The minivets returned around noon, when the sun was high and the heat so strong that it fogged the air, causing the trees and grasses to seem all bent and misshapen.

  The scout birds delivered good news and bad. The good news was that a paradise flycatcher had passed through the lake area recently. The bad news was that the flycatcher had moved on, flying back to his home in the Southern Forests.

  The scout minivets were certain that the paradise flycatcher was the one that had visited the gardens. They were eager to track him down and question him about Shikar and his disappearance.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ volunteered Senora. ‘The forests are huge, everyone says. Tracking a bird amidst all those trees won’t be easy.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Scarlet. ‘The forest is big.’

  ‘You can come along,’ said Bright-Jet. ‘Your help will be welcome on this mission. How about you, Bongo? Would you like to join us? We could use additional wings.’

  Bongo made a rasping sound, like he was clearing his throat. ‘Um . . . I’m not feeling up to it. Had a cold yesterday. You know . . . the kind that leaves you all weak and tired. You carry on, minivets, and take Senora with you. I’ll only slow you down.’

  Ming and Stroller exchanged glances.

  ‘Fly on then,’ said Bongo. ‘There’s no time to waste. Bring back news of our squirrel friend. Hurry! May Greatbill shower blessings and luck upon you.’

  So the minivets and Senora flew away, speeding south to the forests.

  Friends

  Maitreya’s family was new to the gardens. It had been just two months since his father had secured a job at the Neelpaani Dam. Senior engineers at the dam were provided homes in the gardens, and the one allotted to Maitreya’s family was called Marigold.

  It was late and the Marigold Garden was shrouded in shadow. Maitreya’s room on the upper floor of the Marigold Bungalow was dark too. It was past his bedtime. His mother had entered a short while earlier and, after tucking him in bed, turned off the lights.

  Sleep, however, was the last thing on Maitreya’s mind. He had other plans. The murmur of the TV drifted up from the hall downstairs. His parents had switched on the news. They always did so before retiring for the night. Except for the TV, there was no other sound.

  It was time.

  Maitreya stirred. Rising, he reached under his blanket. His fingers retrieved the phone and the iPad he had hidden there. Fumbling, he switched on the phone. When the dial pad lit up, he tapped out Alisha’s number.

  ‘Hi,’ greeted Maitreya when the call was answered.

  Alisha’s voice was guarded. ‘Hi, Maitreya,’ she replied.

  ‘I need to talk to Mitalee.’

  ‘Really, Maitreya. Mitalee has always said that you lack intelligence. I didn’t believe her, but obviously I was wrong. You do know that Mitalee would rather chat with a dragon than with you, right?’

  ‘Look, I know she doesn’t like me, but this is urgent. Tell her it’s about the white-headed squirrel.’

  Alisha’s tone sharpened. ‘The white-headed squirrel? What do you know about the squirrel? Are you the one who’s kidnapped him?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I have nothing to do with his disappearance. I have information instead. Important information. And no, I’m not joking, nor am I lying. Tell her to call me. Actually, it’s best if she chats with me on Facebook.’

  Alisha tittered. ‘Facebook! You have this habit of making impossible demands, you know. Wonder what you’ll want from her next. That she gives you a thousand likes on Facebook? Or even better, that she becomes your devoted follower on Instagram and sings your praises on the Net. You’re living in a dreamworld, Maitreya. Get this: Mitalee will never friend you on Facebook. That’s your first reality check. And if by some miracle she does, you should know that her parents are even worse than the police when it comes to the Internet. Weekdays, she is barred from using the Internet, and at this late hour, you can totally forget it.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Alisha. This is important. Important like you can’t believe! Tell her to hide from her parents. She must come online now—right now. There’s stuff here that she has to see. And no, I don’t have a habit of making impossible demands . . . this is an emergency. Trust me. Tell Mitalee I’ve sent her a friend request already. She must accept. I’m online now and waiting. Pleas
e don’t argue, Alisha. I’ll buy you as many ice creams as you want—a year’s supply at the school canteen! It’s a promise!’

  Alisha had half a mind to hang up the phone. But there was a ring of sincerity in Maitreya’s voice that she found hard to ignore. Whatever Mitalee might say, Alisha liked the boy. She might even have been his friend if it weren’t for Mitalee’s obvious loathing for him.

  Alisha swallowed her misgivings. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It’s a year’s supply of ice cream—I’ll hold you to it. I’ll call Mitalee and she’ll come online in a bit; I’ll persuade her. This had better be important because if it isn’t, I’m going to take that canteen ice cream and stuff it down the back of your shirt every day.’ She disconnected the phone before Maitreya could thank her.

  Maitreya waited. It wasn’t just Mitalee who would be breaking rules if she connected with him online. There would be trouble for Maitreya too if his parents caught him.

  The room was dark except for the glow from the iPad. The TV rumbled on in the hall below. The minutes dragged by. A reporter was droning about the arrival of the monsoon when the iPad beeped. Maitreya’s heart leapt—Mitalee had accepted his friend request! However, the message that flashed on his screen was anything but friendly.

  Mitalee

  If it is you who has kidnapped my Snowdrop, you are a dead man.

  Maitreya pounded out his reply.

  Maitreya

  If it is me, you are welcome to knock me off. Strap weights to my legs, like they do in movies, and drop me into Lake Neelpaani.

  The next message was to the point.