The story of a nest - An epic play in two small acts of uneven length

Playwright’s note: Keen connoisseurs of literature may suspect that parenthetical insertions in the play far exceed the lines spoken by the lead actors. Their suspicions are well founded, proving once again that they richly deserve the epithet “keen” used for them. However, the playwright intends to continue writing in a similar style. She has sufficient evidence that what is left unsaid often expresses itself better than that which is said.

Act I:

Setting: A little nest in a high rise tree. It’s a cheerful little nest with father bird, mother bird, and two little baby birds happily living together in perfect harmony. (Exaggerations are permitted under the dramatic license recently acquired by the playwright.) The stage setting must be done so that the curtain opens to a rather untidy nest with a rough and tumble look.

 It’s a peaceful evening in the Bird household. Father bird is away on tour. Baby Birds have just been escorted back from a “speed flying” class by their mother. Mother bird has had a long day. Her job and her home demand a lot of her time and energy. Every day, she packs in a lot more work than seems possible in just twelve bird hours. She is now snatching a few minutes off and is on the telephone with her best friend, catching up on important human interest news stories, also called “gossip” by ill informed skeptics.

 Baby bird 1: Play with us Mamma, play with us. You haven’t done that for four whole days. You said we would build a toy nest together. Mammaaa…

Mother bird [Into the phone]:  I’ll have to call you later …. What is it? Play with you right away? Baby bird 1, I’m busy. We’ll play later, I promise. - As soon as I get the dinner done and house tidied. Now be a good bird, and do something useful. Oh, the unending chores in this nest…

(Mother bird starts rustling up a dinner that both the babies can eat without loud lamentations. However, ten Mamma years have taught her how to make boring nutritious fare pass off as tempting junk food.)

Baby bird 2: Mamma, Mamma, shall I help you? I want to help you.

Mother bird: Hmmm?

Baby bird 2: Mamma, Mamma, why does an onion make you weep so? Will this food make me as strong as Super Bird? You said good birds don’t cry, but my friend cried in school today. She hadn’t done her composition on “The early bird catches the worm.” You know what happened then?

Mother bird [Stirring the mozzarella cheese, spinach, and bird seed in the pan]: Hmm? Yes…. Look, be a nice birdie, and go watch that nice film about Uncle Penguin on Discovery Channel. We’ll read a story together at night, ok?

[Baby birds sprawl all over the sofa, pecking on their dinner, happily watching a cartoon about a dumb cat and a smart mouse for the 146^th time. The decibel level is so high, the door posts of the nest need no longer be hearing impaired.]

Mother bird: Birdies, are you set for school tomorrow? Birdies – did you hear me? This infernal noise! Down with the volume, do you hear? DO YOU HEAR ME? LOWER THE VOLUME AT ONCE!

[She marches to the television set and turns it off. Baby birds set up a synchronized, heartrending wail, designed to make the friendly neighborhood Child Rights activist trot over at double speed.]

Mother bird: Good God! You’ll bring the tree down with that racket! And what a mess the room is in. Just look at your toys strewn all over the place. Such expensive toys too! Pick them up, and let me see the room cleared in the next five minutes. Else, I’m going to give all these toys away to a little bird that hasn’t any to play with.

[Baby birds continue to sprawl inelegantly, exhibiting what psychologists have called the Delayed Response Syndrome.]

Mother bird:  Well, if you would much rather study, that’s great too. What fun for you! Which will it be - Math sums, Grammar exercises, or your Geography lesson about soil patterns?

[Baby birds react with astonishing speed. They gather up their toys, and retreat into their rooms before Mother Bird can hurl more weapons of the scholastic kind at them.

Mother Bird tidies the house, makes a call to Grandparent Birds, checks the laundry, and dashes off an important mail. She looks in on baby birds, wanting to play with them and tell them stories, but they are fast asleep. She looks at them and is filled once again, with deep love.]

Mother Bird: I have the sweetest little birds in the whole world. I’m going to give them more time – tomorrow

[She takes them under her wings, kisses them goodnight and tiptoes out.

The curtain falls]

Act II:

The Time: Many years and four new versions of MS Office later.

The Setting: The little nest in the high rise tree. It’s a quiet little nest, with father bird and mother bird living together in perfect harmony. (Exaggerations are permitted under the dramatic license acquired by the playwright. a while ago) The stage setting must be done so that the curtain opens to a tidy nest with a spruced up look.

It’s a peaceful evening in the bird household. Father bird is away on tour. With the junior birds away in a far off university, Mother Bird has a lot of time on her hands. The house doesn’t need tidying anymore. Cooking for two is done faster than one can say, ‘What’s for dinner?” and she no longer has to launder clothes that are stained with chocolate, tomato ketchup, and grease from bicycles.

She has been trying to reach her baby birds over the cell phone, but these seem to be kept on silent mode. She turns to the internet, and finds to her delight that one of the baby birds is signed in.

Mother bird: Baby bird…Hi baby bird…r u there?

[ Mother bird is comfortable with the new age text language – a bit of it anyway. She stares at the screen for a long time, waiting for the words “Baby bird is typing” to appear – but they don’t. She calls on their cell phones once again. This time, one baby bird takes the call.]

Mother bird: Baby bird, I’ve been trying to reach you. Where’s your phone? Where have you been?

Baby bird: Hi Mom.

Mother bird: Why don’t you take calls? Are you alright? I’ve been worried.

Baby bird: Yeah, it’s been a busy day – lots of assignments and an important project.

Mother bird: We haven’t talked for four whole days. Are you busy? How was your day?

Baby bird: Good. I’m a tad tired though.

Mother bird: Have you had your dinner? Make sure you take your vitamins every day. You are at an age when you need to develop strength in your wings. You understand, don’t you?

Baby bird: Sure

Mother bird: Guess what? Something really interesting happened today. You remember XYZ Uncle and ABC Aunty? Met them after a long time and ….

Baby bird: Hmm? Yeah ….  Look Ma, I need to go to the library right now. We’ll talk when I’m back in my room, ok? I’ll have more time then.

Mother bird: Ok, baby bird. Love you lots.

Baby bird: Sure. Bye.

Mother Bird [to herself as she puts the phone away]: I have the sweetest little birds in the whole world. Of course they would give me time if they had any to spare.

[She thinks of them and is filled once again with deep love. In her mind’s eye, she takes them under her wings, kisses them goodnight and tiptoes out of their thoughts.

The curtain falls]