What if..

What if you happen to find a diary in a bird’s nest and it read this:

“Soaring high up in the misty sky and cutting swiftly through the air currents, I fly, with my wings outstretched, relishing the beauty of ultimate freedom. I feel the gush of cool air at my face. The joy of being free was bubbling within me. As I sailed along, I twittered and sang to celebrate my ecstasy. Cleaving through the wind blowing past me, I swirled in the air boasting about the enticing myriad of coloured feathers that clothed me. Yes indeed, I was free!

Suddenly, I could sense danger lurking above me. An enemy was intruding into my freedom. I had to fly even harder. The shadow of my enemy was cast upon me. I am its prey – its daily lunch. The thought of fighting and getting rid of its cruel clutches made me fly faster. Flying past mystically through the branches of trees camouflaged me. After moments of the dreadful chase, I see my enemy giving up and flying back in search of another innocent victim. I rejoice at my success for being my own saviour – my own triumphant warrior.

For birds, this is what life is all about.

Keep flying to enjoy the meaning of freedom,

keep flying in search of food to satisfy hunger and

keep flying to get away from enemies.

That is how my life too, should have been. But all these are just my dreams. My freedom was snatched away from me. And if that happens, a bird no longer lives as a bird but merely as an exhibit piece with a meaningless life pounding in it. I, too, am an exhibit piece at the local zoo – a part of that family of many creatures who daily dream of being free. I smirk at myself for labelling me as a triumphant warrior. How could I have done that if I hadn’t mastered the skills to escape from the clutches of man – the self-declared master of Earth?

People come, excitingly stare at my beautiful feathers, click pictures and leave quickly. Their faces, I have noticed, have the glow of freedom – the same glow that I yearn for. The zoo care-takers are nice people. They provide us with food. They keep us safe. Comforts that fail to provide us true happiness.

Nobody understands us perhaps because they haven’t experienced the plight of living behind iron bars. Nobody realizes that freedom is our most prized possession too!”