It was a winter evening. My little niece, who was then a little over one, was crying because of severe cold and fever. All our efforts to soothe her went in vain.
Our house has a large garden surrounding it from all sides. The croton bush in front of the main gate of our house is occupied mainly by a flock of warblers.
It often happens that the warblers sometimes cannot enjoy sleep as reptiles such as huge rat snakes make for them. Unwittingly, sometimes they enter our house and spend the night.
That night a warbler perhaps in fear of a serpent entered my niece’s room. To our utter astonishment, she, watching the little bird, forgot all her discomforts and started smiling and clapping in delight.
The presence of the bird worked like magic. We did not have to undergo any ordeal to feed her and make her swallow the medicine.
The scared bird returned to its normal state as we were careful enough not to disturb it. The bird chipped infrequently, most probably in fear. But my niece was imitating it in joy. After a little while she fell asleep. The bird also put its head under its wing and went to sleep. I thanked the bird myself for giving pleasure to my ailing niece. We all went to sleep leaving the girl with her mother and the bird in the realm of dreams. All the windows and the door of the room were closed to prevent the bone chilling cold wind ranging from the north. I also went to the adjacent bedroom of my own.
I got up before daybreak to the chirping noise of the bird. I also heard my little niece’s stammering conversation with the bird that was just chirping wildly. When the narrow streaks of morning light coming through the gaps of the windowpanes suggested that it was time to get up, I decided to open the door to let the bird fly. I lightly knocked at the door. My sister opened the door. I saw the bird was still chirping and flying around the room for escape and my niece shouting and clapping in joy. I left the door open. Needless to say, the bird flew out of the room and disappeared chirping.
No sooner had the bird flown away than the little girl started crying bitterly. I placed the back of my hand on her forehead to feel her body temperature. The medicine worked well. There was no sign of fever. But she went on crying for the absence of the bird. I picked her up from the bed and took her in my arms to near the croton bush.
It was a tremendous sight. A large number of warblers were flying and hopping on the small branches and lisping.
My little niece stopped crying and clapped in joy. And I tried to discern the warbler that had spent the night with her, but in vain.
Rather I found a wonderful resemblance of the whole incident with Somerset Maugham’s beautiful story Princess September that I teach my Class 8 students.
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