With a broken wing, blood pouring out of the little things breast, the lifeless warbler descended down. Gone were her flying days, her beak still half-open, wishing it could bid one last goodbye to the mighty wind and the fellow clouds. The hunter rejoiced as he finally hit his target after six failed attempts. The seventh lucky bullet did half the work; gravity took care of the rest. Meanwhile, somewhere, not so far away a mother bird waits for her offspring to return to the convoluted nest. She has taken care of the dinner for the night but the shocking news is yet to arrive. Little did she know, her daughter who had gone to play as usual, along with the soaring wind, was now lying naked, devoid of her wings, in an empty frypan, waiting to be cooked. Somewhere else, a father has taken care of the nights dinner for her sick daughter.
The mother bird still awaits, her little daughter is not far away, and she would be home anytime now. She recalls the following immortal quote by Stephen King in her mind and calms herself.
“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”

 

– Vaibhav Lohia

( Monster )

 

Photograph by Alwina Kathuria.PhotoGrid_1494510599928.jpg

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