Injured Myna

My brothers and I are just 18 months apart. We have been best friends ever since. We always wanted to have a pet bird. We were fascinated by birds speaking human. Parrot, Myna in stories could speak human. We were too small to find or afford a parrot back then. But we weren't the ones to give up or stop. Search was on. Myna, the common myna, was easy to find. 

I was in class 4 (3 or 4). It was early morning; there was a big storm the previous night. We were wandering in the backyard. In the middle of betel nut leaves, we found a common myna, a grown-up common myna, lying injured. Probably there was the temptation of eating the bird. But the promise of that bird speaking human was greater. So we decided to take care of the bird. 

The bird had lost its ability to fly; maybe it had an injured wing. I am making guesses now, as I don't remember clearly. The bird had one injured leg, which I remember clearly. It could barely walk. Indeed, it could barely move.  We started taking care of it. We started feeding the bird with an injection. We used to keep the bird warm; we used to be around it so much that parents had to remind us to do other things. But it was fun; all of us, including parents, were involved and were loving it. Every smallest movement the bird was making were reasons of celebration for us. We used to cheer loudly. Until one fine day when it started walking. 

Maybe by the end of week 2, it started walking. It couldn't walk smoothly. But it was walking. Our dream of it speaking human wasn't realised yet. We were loving the bird so much, we forgot why we wanted it in the first place. But as it started walking, a fear started cripling. It was our favourite. As it started walking, thoughts of it flying away one day were growing. So we decided to clip its wing. It had started to open its wings. We couldn't fanthom, loosing it; we couldn't think it flying away. It was our favourite pet, a toy, a life we had saved. How could we let it fly? How could we know it was safe in the wild? We clipped the wings. 

By the end of week 4/5, it recovered completely. It could walk, but it wasn't little unusual, not smooth like other mynas. We could identify it from the walk. By this time, it started chirping loudly; other mynas started coming. We used to give them rice and paddy; they used to eat together - I don't know what they used to talk about. I could never understand myna. Nor could that bird speak human. But we understood the bird belonged to the wild and a free sky. We decided not to clip its wing. Maybe by the end of month 2, its wings were fully grown again. It was ready to fly; it flew away one evening when we weren't looking. We tried finding it; we felt betrayed. My tiny brain was overloaded with emotions. Brother was crying. That night was so dull. I used to sleep with my father; I have found peace close to him in every situation- too many stories. Maybe I cried a bit, but I could sleep; I had my father close by, like my world would be fixed, and it would be taken care of. 

I woke up the next morning and started my usual day. Yes, both of us were a bit sad. In fact, the entire family was a bit sad. We had to move on. There was a hope it would maybe fly back one day.

Hope is what the world stands on. We sleep every day thinking there will be a tomorrow. We hope our loved ones will be cured. We hope the fetus in the embryo will grow up to be a beautiful child. And that child will love us. It is pure optimism. And sometimes, it goes beyond possibilities. But we are here as a species because we could hope, we could believe. And that has allowed us to do extraordinary things. It allowed me to create impact in the way my tiny brain thought of. Without hope, belief, and wishes, this life wouldn't be possible.

Oh, the story! We were having a bit of a sad, but usual morning. And the bird flew in. It came home. It came in; we held it, or we caught it. We wanted to keep it. Its friends flew away, sat on a high branch, and it sounded like crying. They were calling the bird. I remember letting it free again. I was okay with it not coming, but it kept coming back, almost every day. We could identify the bird by its style of walking. More mynas were coming back every day. For a few more years. As time passed, we weren't sure if it was the same bird anymore. But every time we saw a bird with a similar walk, we used to smile and say Hey, look, it's the same bird.