Back in the late 1950s, we got what was then known as an "Air Gun"—a toy gun with small bullets. It was meant for shooting at targets and, unfortunately, even birds. At that tender age, it was all fun and games for me, and my young mind couldn’t grasp the pain and harm it could cause. I proved to be a good shooter; my aim was precise despite my poor vision. In just one week, I shot down two birds. Both died. My friends and I tried to revive the second bird with water and food, but it was too late. I watched the bird struggle in its final moments, and the pitiful, gruesome sight left a lasting impact on me.

That moment caused a drastic change in my outlook. I threw the gun away and vowed never to touch it again. The pang of guilt was so profound that I still feel it today. I often wonder why such guns were sold at all and why children were allowed to play with them. Is killing a living being a form of sport? I have regretted this foolish act ever since, and I will continue to regret it until my last day. Sometimes, in moments of deep reflection, I think that perhaps losing my eyesight was divine punishment for my actions. I have written about the dangers of linking cause and effect like this, but the feeling lingers. I wanted to be punished for that act, and if the loss of my vision was indeed the consequence, then at least I feel some satisfaction that justice was served. Yet, the guilt never fades.

From that day forward, I made a firm decision never to harm any living creature. To this day, I follow that vow. I am careful even with ants and mosquitoes—I won’t kill a mosquito if it bites me; I simply brush it away.

Once, while riding in my boss’s car, the driver accidentally ran over a cat while reversing. The scene that unfolded sent shivers through me, and it still haunts me today. The cat’s agony in its final moments was heart-wrenching, and such incidents have deeply affected me.

When we moved to our current house, it was alive with birds, their chirping filling the space with vibrant, natural music. But gradually, a few cell phone towers appeared around the neighborhood. One of the companies even approached me, offering to lease the terrace of our house to erect a tower, with a substantial advance payment. I refused and turned them away, outraged. I believe that the presence of these towers drove the birds away.

Our old house had a lovely garden with coconut, lemon, guava, and sapota trees, along with a variety of flowering plants. Birds were a common sight, and their disappearance was palpable. We missed their songs, the joyful sounds, and the happiness they brought.

So, what was the solution?

Continued in 81. Gardens, Crows, and Finches - Sound and Color - Part 2