The Boy, the Bird, and the Old Man
The boy was sitting on a brown broken chair, but he did not care. His tea was cold, but it didn’t matter. The cold air brushed his skin, but not once did he think of getting the blanket.
He simply sat, staring into the abyss as it rained. The world had gone quiet, and the only sound that remained was the sound of the drops of rain as they crashed to the ground.
The grandfather of the boy came and sat beside him on a comfortable chair, with a warm cup of tea and two blankets. As his old age and weak bones needed that comfort. Only when you are young and foolish do you act as if the discomfort doesn’t bother you.
“What is the matter, son?” the grandfather asked.
“Nothing, just thinking,” the boy replied quietly.
“Well, thinking is the biggest matter of all,” replied the old man.
“I was thinking about all the things I had planned,” sighed the boy.
“Ahh, the most comfort for a human lies in planning,” said the old man.
“I was thinking about all the plans that didn’t work out,” the boy said in a low tone.
“That is the contradiction where we all get stuck. We plan for the sake of having comfort, but when plans don’t work out, all we get is discomfort,” the old man said, as he now too looked lost in a train of thought.
“But I tried my best, I acted maturely, I was patient, I prayed, I did so much for things to work out. I wasn’t meant to be sitting here, I was meant to be somewhere else,” the boy rose furiously now.
“Son, look at that bird.” the grandfather said, gesturing toward the bird.
Confused by the sudden turn of the conversation, he said nothing and looked at the bird.
“I have been observing that this bird has been trying to make a nest on that branch for the past 2 weeks, on that tree over there,” the grandfather explained, pointing to the tree. “I am sure the bird too must have been trying very hard, every morning to search for the right string, collecting it, crafting it, and building a home.”
The boy looked closely; he saw the bird, but he did not see the nest. The grandfather pointed his finger to the ground, and there the boy saw the nest all wet, broken, and covered in mud.
“I am sure this bird too must be feeling very disappointed, as he now sits on the branch of other trees and views his hard work all down the drain,” spoke the old man wisely.
“Now only time will tell if this is a smart bird or a young and foolish bird. You see, if he is young and foolish, he must be sitting in anger, furiousness, and hopelessness. Immersing in how all his planning went down the drain. But if he is a wise bird, which I believe he is, he now has been aware that the tree where he originally planned to make a home is a weak branch, that a simple rain can rack,” replied the wise old man.
“Now if he is a stubborn bird, and chooses to rigorously stick to his set of plans…” the old man continued, his voice tinged with concern.
“The bird next time will fall, and if he has eggs in the nest, so will have a much greater loss in the future,” the young boy completed the sentence.
“I believe I am no longer talking to the young and foolish boy.”
“My son, we plan, He plans,” the grandpa replied.
“My grey hair now tells me that our naïve hearts take a lifetime to understand those plans.” the grandfather mused a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Now sitting here doesn’t seem like such a bad plan after all,” the boy replied with a shy smile.
And so the boy, the bird, and the old man sat silently for a long time watching the rain pour, taking in the sweet quietness of the world until all their plans remained on pause. Slowly but surely reflecting how life has its mysterious ways of always working out sooner or later.
