Four decades ago, birds were aplenty in Bangalore. The spotted sparrows, parrots, mynahs and woodpeckers were seen commonly. Sitting amidst the wild undergrowth in the large compound of my house and watching these avians and their antics was my favourite pastime.

The cheeky sparrows sneaking in to peck at the rice in the storeroom and flying round in circles when trapped and chased in the room, the raucous green parrots returning in droves at sunset all remain only in memory today.

The only bird, apart from the crow that is seen everywhere is the grey pigeon. These ubiquitous birds are omnipresent, on the window sills, in lofts, along the edges of ventilator openings, terraces and every other high perch safe from prying humans.

With no other avenues for bird watching in this concrete jungle, I've taken to watching these pigeons.
The male’s only avocation seems to be puffing his neck and strutting around in circles, making guttural noises while trying to woo an indifferent female. At long last, she deigns to cast a glance in his direction and with a flirty bend of her neck beckons him to caress her all over with his beak. Just as the scene begins to sizzle, in steps the villain and there ends the show. The heroine struts away leaving the two gents to sort out matters with claws and beaks.

Housing is no problem for these creatures, what with the abundance of high-rises. Carefully selected gulmohar twigs make a nest and the eggs appear soon thereafter. The squeaking of the chicks as the mother feeds them with regurgitated food indicates all’s well on the domestic front.

I have seen pigeons standing on one leg with the other one drawn upwards. With neck pulled in and head resting on the shoulders, they strike a meditative pose, perhaps ruminating on the explosion in human and vehicle population and how quiet it was once upon a time.