Why is it that we harm most the ones that we love most? Some life lessons from watching lovebirds, the feathered kind
A couple enjoying the rain at Marine Drive. By unwritten agreement, people step around the lovebirds who line the promenade here, not staring or intruding on privacy
Mumbai's lovebirds have always had a problem: no place to cuddle. When we were lads, it was our perverse pleasure to surprise couples clinching between the rocks behind the US Embassy at Breach Candy. Two weeks ago, I realised that 40 years later, Mumbai's lovebirds kiss and cuddle in plain sight along Marine Drive, sometimes under the privacy of dupatta. By unwritten agreement, people step around them, neither staring nor intruding on their privacy. I clicked a picture of a colourful couple cocooned in their world.
They reminded me of the affectionate, colourful, and intensely monogamous lovebirds (the feathered kind) we used to have, first in Africa, then Thailand. Lovebirds become inseparable once they choose a mate and live their entire lives cooing at and cuddling with each other. Truly true love.
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I wondered - would the blissful couple in my photo one day be married? Have children? Would they still be like this, say, after three children and 30 years? Four days ago, a Mumbai man got a life sentence for strangling his wife in front of their children in 2013. A day earlier, a man in Bikaner stabbed his wife with a sword and chopped off her legs and fingers and then hanged himself. I imagined a day years ago when they would had snuggled near a river or lake, unable to imagine a life without each other.
Here's what happened to my lovebirds. I don't remember the colour of our first two, in Africa, but anyone could see they were completely in love, in their sweet gilded cage in our garden, surrounded by trees and birds.
One day, my daughter, just four, left the cage door open and one lovebird flew away. We were distraught and the remaining lovebird was wretched - as was his mate. We could see the escapee, sitting on a high branch of our magnolia tree, chirping miserably at its lover. How to get it back in the cage? What if the other one escaped instead?
Finally, we took the chance and left the door ajar, watching from a hiding place. The escaped bird flew down to the cage - and happily hopped in. The lovebirds preferred being together in a cage to flying free in the world outside.
When my daughter was nine, she asked for lovebirds as a birthday present. She selected two gorgeous birds from an aviary in Bangkok. One came in radiant yellows and oranges, and the other in shades of sky blue to denim blue. Naturally she had to be called Blues, so the first one became Jazz. Jazz and Blues were every bit as loving and inseparable as our first lovebirds - or the couple on Marine Drive. We had no way of telling their gender apart; for all we knew, they were an LGBT couple. My daughter never tired of showing them off to her friends.
One day - she left the door open, and to her dismay, Jazz flew off into the concrete jungle. My daughter claimed to see flashes of sunlight and orange flitting between buildings. One day, exactly as in Africa, Jazz came back. Returning home from shopping, we found Jazz hopping around the locked cage, like a wife visiting her husband in prison. We eased the hatch up, and she hopped in, reunited with the love of her life.
Two years later, things got weird. Blues laid several eggs - but Jazz savaged them and dragged out the foetuses. He began attacking Blues, mauling her face and feathers. The lovebird has been called the pitbull of the parrot family because of its disproportionately powerful beak, which can crack open an almond. It's a little bully that will fearlessly attack even a macaw 100 times its weight.
One day, Jazz murdered Blues, like the men in Bandra and Bikaner. We found a bloody mess of feathers and bones on the cage floor Why do we harm most the ones we love most? It turns out lovebirds are pretty aggressive, the males more than the females, not unlike us humans. A male can prevent his mate from eating and drinking, and sometimes even injure or kill her, even if he has loved her for years. Again, like so many human males.
However, scientists say such violence is unique to lovebirds that have been caged together, not those in the wild. It seems "time away" from the partner, such as while foraging for food, is very useful in keeping love alive. If incompatibility sets in, caged birds cannot separate; wild ones can. Lovebirds that have been allowed to fly around the room free a little every day do not savage each other. I suppose a man and a woman who give each other space to be themselves and by themselves now and then would not one day destroy each other.
Here, viewed from there. C Y Gopinath, in Bangkok, throws unique light and shadows on Mumbai, the city that raised him. You can reach him at cygopi@gmail.com Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
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