<p class="bodytext">American writer and futurist Alvin Toffler once observed that “the illiterate of the future is not those who cannot read or write, but those unable to learn, unlearn, and relearn. Life, indeed, is a continuous journey of learning.” In my journey spanning over 70 years, the process of learning has never stopped—not only with people, but also with animals and birds. I would like to share a lesson I learned from a tiny visitor to our balcony, which offered profound wisdom to us. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Our balcony, alive with hibiscus, petunias, gerberas, roses, and jasmine, often hosts sunbirds, finches, and butterflies. One morning, however, a new presence appeared, a couple of small brown birds with speckled plumage, circling the parijata (coral jasmine) plant. A quick check on Google Lens identified it as the spotted munia (Lonchura punctulata), a sparrow-sized bird native to tropical Asia. What followed was a remarkable story of resilience and partnership. </p>.Upper berth, undivided.<p class="bodytext">The pair began by cautiously surveying the plant and then embarked on nest-building with flawless coordination. Day after day, they gathered dried grass, reeds, and fibres—often from our hibiscus. Every task was shared, every effort purposeful. Their creation was extraordinary: a rounded, woven nest with a discreet entrance, rugged outside yet softened within by green blades and petals. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Three weeks later, the nest was complete and four delicate white eggs appeared. True to their egalitarian nature, both parents took turns incubating and later feeding the hatchlings. Their rhythm was tireless, instinctive, and deeply moving. We watched them make endless trips, beaks filled with seeds and insects, nourishing their young in the leafy cradle. </p>.<p class="bodytext">One afternoon, with the parents away, I gently lifted a leaf. Inside, three tiny beaks stretched skyward, fragile yet fiercely alive. Two weeks later, the nest stood empty—the fledglings had flown.What remained was not just an abandoned nest, but the imprint of values embodied in their daily rituals.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their seamless cooperation reminded us that shared responsibility is nature’s norm—no complaints, no ego, only commitment. Their resilience was equally humbling; when parts of the nest fell or blew away, they rebuilt without hesitation. Most striking was their partnership: two equals, side by side, sharing every task.</p>.<p class="bodytext">In our own lives, often tangled in imbalance and noise, these little birds offer a gentle reminder: respect your partner, carry your share, and recognise that even the smallest wings can lift the heaviest truth.</p>
<p class="bodytext">American writer and futurist Alvin Toffler once observed that “the illiterate of the future is not those who cannot read or write, but those unable to learn, unlearn, and relearn. Life, indeed, is a continuous journey of learning.” In my journey spanning over 70 years, the process of learning has never stopped—not only with people, but also with animals and birds. I would like to share a lesson I learned from a tiny visitor to our balcony, which offered profound wisdom to us. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Our balcony, alive with hibiscus, petunias, gerberas, roses, and jasmine, often hosts sunbirds, finches, and butterflies. One morning, however, a new presence appeared, a couple of small brown birds with speckled plumage, circling the parijata (coral jasmine) plant. A quick check on Google Lens identified it as the spotted munia (Lonchura punctulata), a sparrow-sized bird native to tropical Asia. What followed was a remarkable story of resilience and partnership. </p>.Upper berth, undivided.<p class="bodytext">The pair began by cautiously surveying the plant and then embarked on nest-building with flawless coordination. Day after day, they gathered dried grass, reeds, and fibres—often from our hibiscus. Every task was shared, every effort purposeful. Their creation was extraordinary: a rounded, woven nest with a discreet entrance, rugged outside yet softened within by green blades and petals. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Three weeks later, the nest was complete and four delicate white eggs appeared. True to their egalitarian nature, both parents took turns incubating and later feeding the hatchlings. Their rhythm was tireless, instinctive, and deeply moving. We watched them make endless trips, beaks filled with seeds and insects, nourishing their young in the leafy cradle. </p>.<p class="bodytext">One afternoon, with the parents away, I gently lifted a leaf. Inside, three tiny beaks stretched skyward, fragile yet fiercely alive. Two weeks later, the nest stood empty—the fledglings had flown.What remained was not just an abandoned nest, but the imprint of values embodied in their daily rituals.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their seamless cooperation reminded us that shared responsibility is nature’s norm—no complaints, no ego, only commitment. Their resilience was equally humbling; when parts of the nest fell or blew away, they rebuilt without hesitation. Most striking was their partnership: two equals, side by side, sharing every task.</p>.<p class="bodytext">In our own lives, often tangled in imbalance and noise, these little birds offer a gentle reminder: respect your partner, carry your share, and recognise that even the smallest wings can lift the heaviest truth.</p>
