I have always wished for a house with big windows. It makes me wonder—why have we trapped ourselves in boxes of concrete and glass? Nature was meant to be a constant, free experience. Instead, it has become a scheduled event, something we seek out on treks and camping trips, or desperately try to find during walks in pitifully polluted neighborhood parks. Despite the current limitations of our society and environment, I still try to quietly observe nature wherever I can. I feel incredibly lucky to have left behind a dreadful, polluted city with extreme weather, and moved to a more nature-conscious place where the pleasant climate actually motivates you to go outside.
I am also fortunate to have found a home on the 16th floor with a massive, multi-wall spanning east-facing window. It has made a drastic difference in my lifestyle; the abundant natural light regulates and auto-corrects my sleep cycle. The view is a sight to behold—one that can easily keep you engaged for hours if you let it. Here’s a picture! Of course, a photograph doesn’t do it justice, as it fails to capture the dynamic energy and intricate details of the scene. If you look closely, you can notice a lake in the distance where large migratory birds occasionally gather. You’ll also see railway tracks—I’ve always liked the Indian railway system for its variety of trains and the bustling activity around them—and under-construction buildings where new floors rise with each passing month. But most importantly, you’ll see birds flying just an arm’s distance away. I am dedicating this blog post entirely to them.
There is a small, brownish-black bird with two distinctive white spots on its tail that flies gracefully past my window. It constantly performs acrobatic stunts and movements, as if putting on a private show just for me. I’ve even named a few of its signature maneuvers: the Rocket Twirl, the Pendulum Swing, and the Standard Three-Revolution Loop. These little acrobats are Oriental Magpie-Robins, and they never tire of showing off their aerial skills.
As I sip my morning tea and lean slightly out the window, they often fly incredibly close, almost acknowledging my presence. I have started naming them based on their social groups and the floor height at which they typically fly. The one that frequents my floor is named Biscuit. He (I don’t know why, but he just feels like a “he”) is a lone bird who doesn’t seem to care about the others. He thoroughly enjoys his solitary flights, attempting the riskiest stunts, perhaps hoping that someone is watching and praising him.
Then there are Romeo and Juliet on the 14th floor. They are inseparable—always flying and resting together. Occasionally, Biscuit tries to third-wheel their romantic flights. I haven’t yet named the ad-hoc guests, who might be Romeo and Juliet’s offspring. They definitely have at least one kid, as I managed to snap a picture of their little family!
On rare occasions, I’ve spotted eagles flying at great heights, striking terror into the hearts of all the smaller birds. Once, I saw an enormous bird soaring far in the distance—probably the largest free-flying bird I have ever seen.
Watching them effortlessly glide through the sky makes me wish I could fly like them, even if just for one single flight.
Of course, there is also the obligatory flock of pestering pigeons scattered across all the floors. One of them, whom I have affectionately—or perhaps begrudgingly—named “Roommate,” has become a permanent resident of my balcony. His favorite hobby is shitting on my plants.
But not all the birds I see are happy. Every day, I am greeted by the devastatingly loud and mournful cries of a Sun Conure from the 14th floor of the opposite tower. It is a pet bird, trapped within the confines of a balcony net. I’ve named him “Rajkumar Rao,” and I even wrote a little something for him once.
Recently, I visited the lake that is visible from my balcony. While there, I sketched a fascinating water bird I encountered. It glided smoothly just above the water’s surface in small flocks, eagerly searching for fish before diving straight in.
Watching these birds every day reminds me to appreciate the little bits of nature right outside my window. Even though we live in concrete buildings, the sky is always open and the birds are free. Taking a few minutes to look outside isn’t just a way to pass the time—it’s a daily reminder that a beautiful, wild world is still out there, just waiting for us to notice.