I woke up one morning to see a lone kite in a blue sky, straining against the strings that tied it to earth. Another kite appeared out of nowhere and cut it free. The kite spiralled, and its thread spinning back to earth in a tangled mass, settled on a tree. A classic Independence week scene, one would say, when kite flying is a national pastime. But I’d just spoken to Nadeem Shehzad, the man who spends his days treating birds injured by kites.
“The glass-coated kite string (manjha) is so sharp it cuts through wings, bone and sinew,” said he, “it’s deadly to thousands of pigeons, crows, owls, Kites and other birds who get entangled in it!” Further, he said, often kite fliers don’t realise that by leaving strings of cut kites where they fall — on trees, wires and buildings — they’re creating death traps for birds. “We can cut the rate of bird injuries by 70 per cent by stopping the use of manjha!” said he.
Shehzad and his younger brother Mohammad Saud ought to know. These young residents of Old Delhi have always loved birds and animals, and have been saddened by the meagre facilities available to injured animals. “In 1997, we found a Kite, badly wounded and dying. We rushed it to the nearby Jain Bird Hospital, but while they treated other birds, they refused to treat the Kite as it was a meat-eating bird,” recalled Shehzad. The brothers were forced to leave it where they found it, knowing that it would die a painful death. “As Kites are at the top of their food chain, they have no predators. So, they can’t hope for a merciful release through the hands of a larger predator — all they can do is wait to starve to death,” he explained.
When the brothers found another wounded Kite, they decided to take matters into their own hands. They took advice from veterinarians and the Internet, and set up an operation theatre in their bedroom. An open-air ward on their terrace followed. “We built high walls around the terrace, and as our feathered patients became well enough, they’d just fly off,” said he. Adults and children alike from nearby localities began bringing all the injured birds they found. This year, when this space began to fall short, a relative allowed them to use his terrace as well as an unused office which the brothers converted into a larger operation theatre.
“We’ve taught ourselves to treat fairly complicated injuries,” said Shehzad. In fact, the brothers are the only people in Delhi who stitch back torn wings with soluble sutures. “These allow easier recovery, and our patients can fly off even before the stitches are fully healed!” said he. With these stitches, 90-95 per cent of the birds they treat are able to fly again.
Although they have no institutional sponsors, the duo now has tie-ups with Wildlife SOS and Jain Bird Hospital (which, on their pleas, has now started treating all birds irrespective of their dietary preferences). “We mostly spend our own money on this, although some of our family and friends have also donated some,” said Shehzad. The brothers aim to open a bird hospital soon, with state-of-the-art operating facilities and an ambulance to replace their trusty bike. Shehzad estimates that barely 50 per cent of all injured birds reach hospitals, and hopes to change that with his Delhi helpline (9810029698/ 9810129698/9868355222/ 9212111116). “We also want to learn micro-surgery to join broken arteries and veins. And we’re studying techniques of joining bones,” said Shehzad, “Then, almost all the birds we treat will be able to fly free!”
A laudable thought on Independence Day, don’t you think?
