No runways for them. They just look around and take off, and in a jiffy, they reach their destinations. It could be on a tree or on the top of a building. Their job is done as soon as they contact their fellow-beings over “cellphone” hidden somewhere in their beaks. You too can guess what the message is – “no water, no water”. Suddenly, you see another one taking off and landing on another building and you hear its message- “Dash, its here, its here”. I too could follow the message, “ Tank, tank Jel” could it be in ‘Hindinglish’ for tank and water?” they too are caste–conscious because when they pass messages, the response comes only from the follow beings. Some of us, to be frank still believe in feeding the birds of variant colours and sizes early in the morning but at the same time, we destroy their shelters (trees). Anyway, we the human beings love the birds, though it is thus far and no further for most of us. We used to worship some kinds of birds. Immortal lines of poets like Wordsworth, Keats and Shelly cross our minds whenever we see these charming birds. Of cuckoo, shall I call you a bird or but a wandering voice?