Come On, Fly With Me

She flew in the air elegantly, watching the world down below move crazily. She wanted to escape to a new world where she would be free and live the life she always wanted to live. She was tired of living in a world where others directed her every move. She did not remember how she mustered the courage to run away from the place she called home all these years. It was as though, as soon as she decided to live the life she always dreamed of, some mystical power engulfed her and took control of her. All she remembered was climbing the small hillock behind her house on her way to jog that morning, and while treading through the pine trees, she heard a sweet melody in the thickets that completely carried her off.

It was when she sat on a treetop that she realized she was no longer the young woman she used to be earlier. Her hands felt light and fluffy, and her feet were short, with four beautiful toes each that helped her perch on tree branches flawlessly. She realized that she had transformed into a beautiful bird. Sitting on the treetop, she chirruped, “I am free now and can fly wherever I want to.”

A little while later, she flew again. Soon she vanished into the sky, totally forgetting the problems that continued to chase her during her human existence. Flying nonstop throughout the day above frozen mountains, seashores, agricultural lands, and human settlements made her tired, and she doused herself for a while on a haystack in what appeared to be a ranch. No sooner had she woke up from her slumber, following men and animals running helter-skelter across the place, than she realized she did not fly on her own; rather, she was swept away by a storm. Initially, she felt the raindrops soothing and the breeze gentle. However, as the wind gathered momentum, she felt as though an external force was deciding her move. Even as she flapped her wings tirelessly, she felt like she was being flown by someone who appeared to control her remotely.

The lightening in the sky scared her as she smashed into a sprawling hornbeam tree by a solitary house on a raised ground. The tree danced madly to the fury of the storm in the twilight. Suddenly, the branch gave in submissively with a noisy thud, and before the tired bird holding on to a tender branch was about to encounter the aftereffect, a hand from the attic window pulled her gently.

“Am I dead yet?” hissed the bird.

“A bold soul like you who chose to fly in the sky, braving the storm, must be eternal,” appeased the girl, gently stroking the wings of the bird.

The girl and the bird were equally amused at befriending each other. The girl said, “The storm has a purpose in my life because it brought me a true friend from nowhere.”

“My life was like a storm before I chose to fly,” tweeted the bird, fluttering its wings and drizzling droplets, flying gently around the girl in an attempt to warm herself.

"We are both sailing in the same boat, I believe,” the girl quipped, seemingly enjoying the droplets on her skin.

“Are you trapped in the attic? Would you want to fly with me as a free bird?” the bird asked, perching on the bookshelf.

The little girl did not answer, but suddenly her eyes were filled with tears.

“I am not good enough, and I deserve to be trapped in a place like this,” she murmured, tear drops streaming through her cheeks.

“Not good enough, according to whose standards?” demanded the bird in a friendly and empathetic tone.

“My stepmother always says I do not amount to anything, and I am tired of this life.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I am tired of this life and wish to die,” the little girl said, staring out the window.

“Only the creator has the right to take your life, and you are a young girl born to achieve great things. Given my hectic day today in the storm, I would have met my death today.” The bird chirruped bravely. “In fact, I thought I almost died, but deep in my mind I was reminded of my goal of traveling around the world and writing my memoir to the world,” the bird told the girl, suddenly remembering she once used to be a human being.

“Writing your own memoir, would birds ever read?” suddenly the girl became curious.

The bird, understanding that she had a purpose in saving a life that brought her all the way to the girl, decided to stay with her for some time.

The bird would fly outside each day and narrate its day-to-day experience to the girl. It would cheer the girl by narrating how animals in the jungle fought each day for life and how children of her age enjoyed life singing and playing.

One day, the bird asked the girl, “Have you ever gone out of this valley?”

The girl, seemingly unable to think about a world outside, shook her head, indicating “never.”

“Have you ever tried to explore the world?” twittered the bird.

“No,” the girl said, shaking her head.

“Have you ever had a goal and pursued it?”

“No,” the girl said, shaking her head rather ashamedly.

“Then it is simply cowardice to contemplate killing yourself,” concluded the bird, like a philosopher.

“Your stepmother can’t hurt you by saying you amount to nothing unless you believe in the first place that you amount to nothing,” the bird said, opening the girl’s eyes.

A week later, while bidding goodbye to the girl, the bird, perched on the window sill, told the girl, “When the going gets tough, pause for a while and redefine your goal and plan to achieve it that would make your life worth living.”

As the bird flew away, remembering its own goal, the girl shouted, “One day we will fly around the world together.”