The Owl
It was a dark night. Down below, it was thoroughly visible.
Silently, he descended and perched on the rock. The crystal clear water of the stream revealed no prey for the night. The whole place seemed to be in deep slumber. Only a mild breeze was blowing, rustling through the leaves of the pipul tree. And there was the stream, flowing as ever before. No unusual sound greeted his eager ears.
The great bird closed his eyes. He pushed his head down at his neck and fluffed up the tiny feathers to beat the cold of the night. He readied himself for an uncertain wait…, possibly too long a wait… Who knows what turns up next? One has to be ready for a situation throughout…
Growing up with time, the bird has developed familiarity with such uncertain waits. He knows it well that patience is the key of life. So, he has learnt to wait.
Hello, wise bird…
The bird got startled. He started looking around for the voice. His flexibility helped him to scan through almost two-seventy degree, but he found none. He focussed sharp through spaces at length, but all in vain.
How do you do, my friend?
He heard the voice again… This time he walked a few steps on the flat, raised surface of the rock over the water, and peeped at different corners. There was none… and nothing like an unusual night… The bird tried to hear the voice again, but couldn’t trace it.
He returned to his old place on the rock, and resumed the posture. Just for once, he had thought of changing the place; but he was curious. He was sure of the voice, and wanted to trace it. He was a bit proud of his typical ‘binocular’ vision that enables him to know things at even considerable distance, and surely of his flexibility, that allows him to turn around almost at every angle, gaining on almost every perspective. If only he could turn his neck through a complete three-sixty degree...
So the bird waited. He waited and waited. But nothing turned up. Not a prey, nor the voice. He was confused after a long wait. Just then, again the voice was heard…
Why don’t you look up closer?
For the first time in his life, the great bird started feeling being hunted down. A great hunter as he is, he is gifted with a great telescopic vision. But as close-ups are concerned, he is really poor at it. Lamp illuminates around itself, but at its bottom, it remains the darkest.
The rock beneath was cold. That started chilling the great hunter down. He was able to feel the chill coming up through his bones. He closed his eyes.
Suddenly, he realized. It came to him like a lightning, out of the blue. He knew that what can be heard, can be seen. Now he understood what can’t be seen, can be felt.
He started feeling the situation… close to himself…the rhythm surrounding him. He knew he was perching upon a rock. But for the first time, he felt its presence below. He felt the rock speaking to him in his language. He was glad to feel the most unusual friendship on the planet.
He was not feeling cold anymore. The new friendship seemed to warm up his bosom. And the warmth of his heart flew down, and it seemed to touch the rock.
It had already started to dawn by then. The great bird stretched its wings to embrace the wind to get back to its home. The rock below was feeling proud of its wiser friend.
