Where Have the Sparrows Gone?

My six-year-old granddaughter, returning from school, looked up at me with bright, curious eyes and asked, “What’s a house sparrow? Can you show me one?”
Such a simple question—and yet it left me searching for an answer I could not readily give. How do I explain that the birds that were once our constant companions, flitting through our homes, chirping in our courtyards, and nesting under our roofs, are now nowhere to be seen?
The Sparrow We Once Knew
In my childhood, sparrows were everywhere. They hopped fearlessly onto windowsills, nested in forgotten corners, and filled the air with their cheerful chatter. We would wake up to their songs, watch them gather twigs to build their delicate homes, and feel a quiet kinship with their unassuming presence. They were not guests; they were family.
But where are they now?
A Bird So Small, Yet So Beloved
The house sparrow (Passer domesticus) is a tiny, plump bird with a stout beak, perfectly designed for pecking at grains and seeds. The males, with their black bibs and grey crowns, stand out just enough, while the females blend beautifully with their earthy brown hues. These birds are not just survivors but adapters, choosing to live close to us, in the nooks and crannies of our homes and marketplaces.
And yet, today, they are missing from our windowsills, our courtyards, and our lives.
The Vanishing Song
What happened? Have our steel-and-glass cities erased the spaces where they once nested? Have sealed windows and the droning of air conditioners silenced their songs? Perhaps the invisible killers—pesticides that lace our gardens and insecticides that poison their food—have taken a toll. Or maybe they have been pushed out by stronger, more aggressive birds that now dominate our urban landscapes.
The reasons may be many, but the outcome is the same: a world without sparrows feels emptier.
The Sparrow in Our Culture and Folklore

Sparrows have been more than just birds; they have been woven into our stories, beliefs, and traditions. In many homes, their presence was seen as a sign of good fortune. Grandmothers told tales of sparrows bringing messages of love and harmony. Poets and writers immortalized their innocence and ceaseless energy.
Sukumar Ray, in his whimsical Bengali verses, brought them to life as mischievous characters. Even Mirza Ghalib, in his ghazals, found space for these little birds, using them as metaphors for humble joys and unnoticed beauty.
But today, our stories are all that remain.
Can We Bring Them Back?
March 20 is now marked as World Sparrow Day—a day of remembrance, of regret, and perhaps of hope. But is it just a ritual, or is it a call to action? Can we still create a world where our children and grandchildren hear their songs once more?
Maybe the answer lies in small, mindful acts: leaving out water and grains, nurturing pockets of greenery in our concrete jungles, reducing our use of harmful chemicals. Perhaps, if we care enough, if we make room for them again, they might return.
What Else Have We Lost?
As I reflect on the absence of sparrows, I wonder: have we lost more than just a bird? Have we, in our rush towards progress, also let go of kindness, patience, and our quiet connection with nature? Much like the sparrow, these values once thrived among us, unspoken yet ever-present. But in the noise of our modern world, they, too, seem to be fading.
Unlike the sparrows, which may return if given a chance, can we restore these lost virtues? Will the warmth of community, the trust in simple joys, and the gentleness of an unhurried life find their way back to us? Or are they lost forever, mere echoes of a past we barely remember?
What Shall I Tell My Granddaughter?
And so, what do I tell my granddaughter? How do I explain the disappearance of something so small yet so immense?
I will tell her stories—of the birds that once shared our homes, of their tiny, ceaseless movements, of their gentle trust in us. And I will tell her that not all is lost. That if she watches closely, listens patiently, and nurtures the world around her, she might still hear their song.
Maybe not in my lifetime, but perhaps in hers.
And one day, she too might sit by a window, watching a tiny brown bird flutter in, looking for a home. And in that moment, she will know that hope, like the sparrow, never truly vanishes—it only waits for a place to belong again.
"The sparrow’s song, once bright and near,
Now lingers as an echoed sigh.
But listen—if we make space once more,
Their wings may brush against the sky."

(Uday Kumar Varma is an IAS officer. Retired as Secretary, Ministry of Information & Broadcasting)