There's a large leafy tree near the gate of my house, and it has been the refuge of lots of birds over the years. Literally hundreds of sparrows returning to rest in its branches at dusk made such a din, chirrupping all together, that I sometimes had to break off my evening classes until they settled down, because I could hardly hear myself speak. Of late the sparrows seem to have vanished, God knows why and where (I have heard dark murmurings that the electromagnetic emanations from all the mobile-phone signal relay towers that have mushroomed around the town have killed them off en masse, though I have no idea whether it is a scientifically-valid explanation or not).
Now that it is (at least technically) springtime, my garden is full of the cooings and chirpings and twitterings of a variety of birds. It sounds melodious and soothing as a rule, and I thank my lucky stars that I live in a place where I can still enjoy such natural charms without having the privileges of a tycoon. Unfortunately one young Mr. Cuckoo, desperate to attract a suitable lady love, has been taking things too far lately. He doesn't coo - there's nothing remotely sweet and delicate about his call - he literally yells his head off. And he's been at it night and day, waking us up at four in the morning, screaming at a demure female who can be heard coyly cooing back from many trees away even in the evenings until the boys and girls start giggling and I begin to grimace so furiously that the class has got to be suspended now and then (it's the middle of a rather hot day right now, but young Galahad is still at it: the thing's becoming faintly like the notorious Chinese water torture). I hope he finds a consort soon, otherwise he'll drive us nuts. No wonder one meaning of cuckoo is 'mad'!
The lovesick fellow probably ground through umpteen school crambooks to get a berth in some second or third-rate private engineering college, and now that he's landed a twenty-thousand -rupees-a-month cybercoolie's job in Bangalore, his mother's nagging him to find a bride. After all, he has 'shone' and become 'successful' by every middle-class standard, so why should he not 'settle down' now, so that the new Mrs. Cuckoo could raise a brood and get them admitted to school and then shriek at them night and day to study hard and follow in daddy's footsteps. It's all as Mother Nature wrote, for generation after generation, ad infinitum, ad nauseam.
I only wish the poor dumb brutes had the advantage of facilities such as shaadi.com and bharatmatrimony.com provide us humans these days. Then they would not have had to yell their heads off night and day for several weeks on end in such primeval fashion to find wives for themselves, and my ears would get some rest.