On a deadly string

There’s never a dull moment in Chandni Chowk. True that. There’s never a moment of quiet either. In the 10 minutes from its crowded metro station to the Lal Mandir — the informal name for the old Shri Digamber Jain Red Temple — a cacophony of bicycle bells, cycle rickshaw and car horns, and loudspeaker announcements all but bore a hole in my eardrums. A fitting prelude to a day at the city’s oldest bird hospital, I thought. I prepare myself for more noise as I knock at the heavy iron gate that separates the temple complex from the clogged road outside Red Fort.

The Charity Birds Hospital, a three-storey building that goes back to 1952, is fronted by a sprawling courtyard. The relative quiet soothes my nerves as I walk up a narrow staircase to the first floor of the hospital. By the time I ask for a meeting with the vets on duty, the high-decibel drama that defines Chandni Chowk is as good as history.

As I wait for the doctor at the modest reception area — with ceiling fans covered in steel mesh to prevent bird injuries — two officers from Delhi Fire Services walk in with a gunny bag. “ Ek aur cheel mil gaya. Bacha lo isko (We found one more kite. Save it),” says one, as he hands the bag to the receptionist, a young man from Nepal. Reluctant to disclose his name under instructions from the management, the receptionist opens the bag to find a black kite with deep cuts in the belly. A closer look at the bird of prey and he declares, “ Yeh bhi manja se kat gaya hain (This too has been injured by abrasive kite string).”

Transferred to a table in the corridor adjoining the reception area, the bird lets out a shrill cry as one of the hospital’s two vets tries to remove the metal- and glass-coated string from the thick plumage. “The Chinese manja has wreaked havoc this year. In less than a week from Independence Day (kite-flying is one of the most popular activities on this national holiday), we have received more than 500 such cases,” says the irate doctor. He quickly proceeds to administer stitches to the dehydrated kite rescued from a tin shed in Daryaganj, also in Old Delhi.

The Chinese manja is not really Chinese. Made in India, this synthetic avatar doesn’t break as easily as the harmless cotton variety. The perils of the Chinese manja hit Delhi in the face after three tragic deaths on August 15 this year. Two of the dead were children, whose necks were slit. The Delhi government’s ban on the manja came on August 16, a day too late.

“Pigeons, crows, parrots, kites and even the endangered house sparrow — many species are brought to the hospital every year for manja injuries. The number has doubled this year,” says Sunil Jain, honorary manager at Charity Birds Hospital. He adds: “There is a peacock that lost a wing.”

Sharing a cage with a peahen and a common shelduck, the peacock — “still very young”, according to the vet on duty — was rescued from Delhi’s Ring Road by the police. Chances are it might grow another wing, adds the vet. “It will be released in the forest at Shantivan after recovery,” says the receptionist. “We release all birds that come here. That’s the policy of the hospital,” he says, drawing my attention to a board at the reception. It confirms what I had just been told — no bird that comes to this hospital is returned, even if it is a pet. “If you want your bird back, you can consult with our OPD section,” adds Jain. A businessman who travels frequently, Jain keeps track of this bi-weekly activity through videos the staff record.

Four kites share a smaller cage in the same row as the peacock. A plate of diced paneer lies in the middle of the cage while a bowl of water provides some entertainment to one of the occupants. “Kites and every other bird of prey are sent off to Wildlife Rescue, a Delhi-based organisation, for further treatment. We are a Jain hospital and these birds live on meat. At Wildlife Rescue, they get the food they need. Till the time they are with us, we give them milk protein like paneer,” says the vet.

In smaller cages on the other side of the narrow corridor, scores of injured birds patiently wait for release. Some, mostly feral pigeons, have been blinded by cuts in their eyes. Some are missing toes or feet, while an Asian koel is nursing a wing injury. Several cages ahead, a hariyal — the Asian green-footed pigeon — is recovering well from a gash on the back.

At the end of the same corridor, a murder (the strangest collective noun perhaps) of crows appear unusually calm and disciplined. Some of them have cuts in the head while a few came close to losing their neck. The only heartening news in this scenario is the enterprise the ordinary Delhi resident has shown in the rescue of these birds. According to the attendants at the hospital, local rickshaw pullers brought in the maximum number of cases, with morning walkers and joggers coming a close second. The firemen and the police are also regular visitors to the hospital.