Fly Bird Fly!

When I was young my grandpa always used to say that inspiration is a thing which one can find everywhere provided one knows how to get inspired. I never understood him but now I realize that he was right. Today I got inspired from a bird, a young one. That bird was just four inch in size, too small to inspire a 5’8”, 75 KG guy. But she proved otherwise!

Like every evening, I was having my tea in the verandah, which overlooks our society park. It was quite hot outside but I didn’t mind it. Children were playing in the park, lots of birds were coming back to their respective trees and the sky was getting grayish. Hope it rains, I sincerely prayed. Children of various sizes were present in the park. From the one foot to three foot, all were busy playing. Only a few were sitting very quietly at one place looking straight towards the sky. They seemed out of place. But then they are mostly likely to become the world’s future philosophers: the future Descartes, Plato and Seneca in the making. They must be thinking “Cogito, ergo sum" (Latin for "I think, therefore I am"). Thinking this I could not resist a smile.
And there were some Sardar kids. What a sharp contrast from those little philosophers. The way they were running and making some high pitched noise that they are surely going to join the Indian Army and get posted in the Pakistan border. They had that talent of scaring away people. Suddenly a small bird flew and sat in the bench near where the little sardars were playing. She could not evade the children’s eyes. It was clearly evident that she was a bit injured. She was hopping instead of flying. Two adventurous sardars grabbed this golden opportunity. They wanted to capture that little bird. Slowly they kept moving towards her. One step at a time. Their movement was like just like some under cover agent closely following a suspect. The two came really close. I got up and held the railing tightly because the situation was getting tense. I wanted to shout at them but something kept me quiet. Why the bird is not looking back? Why is she not flying away? Now the two were really close. The bird sensed the predators behind. It hopped few steps away. The boys got a little nervous. They were really close. I guess they started doubting their ability to catch that bird. Victory never comes easily, they forgot. The two moved again, this time more carefully, inch by inch. The bird did not move. They were just one foot away. The sardar with the red turban slowly moved his hand towards the bird. His right hand was slowly moving towards her but bird didn’t move. What has happened to her? Fly Bird Fly! Come on. They are going to torture you. Run. My heart cried. Just when the sardar tried to close his iron fist and catch the bird, it flew away. My happiness knew no bound. The bird was flying despite been injured. It was hopping for such a long time. And now it was flying despite the pain. Her confidence made her fly. Sheer grit and determination to maintain her freedom. She proved that she is the master of her own destiny. She is a child of freedom. Her indomitable spirit cannot be tamed. I was happy and kept looking at those two young sardars who seemed dejected and were blaming each other for the loss. It would have been a golden prize for them, and a good way to impress the young sardarnis in the park.