Dear My Blog Readers,
It was a perfect date. The date was 11th March. And I was with my love, enjoying the cool shades of the trees of the beautiful little park. My hand was in her hand and her hand was in my hand. And my thoughts floated around her and hers floated around me. We were together and we were one. And then it came out of no where. It broke the chain of my thoughts. It took me to another world…a world that was built by the idea of perfection. It was supposed to unlucky. But it was the greatest talisman that could have been there.
The shalik landed gracefully among the fallen leaves and stood still for a while. And then it turned towards me and I towards it. And we looked at each other, transfixed.
And then I said to my love, ‘Look, sweat heart. That is the most amazing bird I have ever seen…’
And she asked, ‘Why do you say so?’
And I answered, ‘Look at it carefully and you shall know.’
And she said, ‘Shubho…’
And I replied, ‘Look at its leg.’
And she said, ‘But…’
She looked closely and exclaimed, ‘Shubho, it has got only one leg.’
‘Yes… yes… it has only one leg and yet it is standing still.’
And, indeed, it stood still. The bird turned and hopped. I wondered whether it would be able to maintain its balance. I had tried it many times in the past, in my childhood, when I used to occupy myself with such one-legged hopping games (popularly known as ‘kit-kit’) and I knew that it was likely that one would lose his/her balance after such a jump.
But the bird was stronger and more stable than any human could ever hope to be. It negated my premonition and landed swiftly and gracefully once more. Then it bended its leg and lay flat on its breast. I wondered why it had done so.
Was it taking rest?
Was it building up the potential energy that would be required during the next jump?
It pecked on the ground and lifted something into its beak. And then it leaped once again…and again…and again…
Not even for once did its leg tremble; never once did it double hop to regain its balance. It seemed as if the bird was the embodiment of the word perfection. It was a bird from the heaven. It was a bird of light. It was a bird that can not be beaten.
And I asked my love, ‘I think that we should name the bird. What do you suggest?’
And she answered, ‘Oporajito.’
The finality in her tone echoed my thoughts. ‘Yes’, I said, ‘Oporajito will be a perfect name for a perfect bird.’
There is so much to learn from the bird’, she said softly.
‘There is so much to wonder about it’, I reflected.
The bird hopped around for a while, steadily going away from us, minding its own business in a way that suited it; and it minded its business more carefully and precisely than any other bird could have. May be its handicap had to do something with it. But then I thought, would that bird not be so perfect but for its handicap. I did not presume to know the answer. May be it would be, may be it wouldn’t. These presumptions were irrelevant. What mattered was that it showed me what can be achieved in life only if there is a will and an indomitable spirit.
The bird hopped and with each hop it defined the divinity of creation. And then it spread its wings. And within the span of its wings it held the universe, for the universe was not without it. It flapped its wings, its leg firmly placed on the ground. The storm that it created propelled it skywards, towards infinity, towards its home…
And I stared at its wake, feeling alive all of a sudden. I looked at my palm. The bird was hardly any larger than my palm and yet it could give shelter to more courage and determination than that this six foot tall body of mine can ever dream of.
I said in my mind, ‘Goodbye Oporajito, king of birds. No eagle can ever challenge you; no hawk shall ever defeat you… for you are the messenger of God. You are the light to the lost souls. Show them the way. Help them to live. Teach them never to give up. Teach them to stay still as you can stay still. Teach them the meaning of perfection. Teach them the meaning of your name…’
This was the story of a bird named Oporajito. This is the story of so many Oporajito s around us who try and try and try till they die. Even if they fail they are never defeated.
This is directly to you, My Blog Reader: do you know any such Oporajito? If you know then can you honour me by beautifying my blog with tales such Oporajito s? Their stories deserve to be told.
Regards,
Shubhabrata
It was a perfect date. The date was 11th March. And I was with my love, enjoying the cool shades of the trees of the beautiful little park. My hand was in her hand and her hand was in my hand. And my thoughts floated around her and hers floated around me. We were together and we were one. And then it came out of no where. It broke the chain of my thoughts. It took me to another world…a world that was built by the idea of perfection. It was supposed to unlucky. But it was the greatest talisman that could have been there.
The shalik landed gracefully among the fallen leaves and stood still for a while. And then it turned towards me and I towards it. And we looked at each other, transfixed.
And then I said to my love, ‘Look, sweat heart. That is the most amazing bird I have ever seen…’
And she asked, ‘Why do you say so?’
And I answered, ‘Look at it carefully and you shall know.’
And she said, ‘Shubho…’
And I replied, ‘Look at its leg.’
And she said, ‘But…’
She looked closely and exclaimed, ‘Shubho, it has got only one leg.’
‘Yes… yes… it has only one leg and yet it is standing still.’
And, indeed, it stood still. The bird turned and hopped. I wondered whether it would be able to maintain its balance. I had tried it many times in the past, in my childhood, when I used to occupy myself with such one-legged hopping games (popularly known as ‘kit-kit’) and I knew that it was likely that one would lose his/her balance after such a jump.
But the bird was stronger and more stable than any human could ever hope to be. It negated my premonition and landed swiftly and gracefully once more. Then it bended its leg and lay flat on its breast. I wondered why it had done so.
Was it taking rest?
Was it building up the potential energy that would be required during the next jump?
It pecked on the ground and lifted something into its beak. And then it leaped once again…and again…and again…
Not even for once did its leg tremble; never once did it double hop to regain its balance. It seemed as if the bird was the embodiment of the word perfection. It was a bird from the heaven. It was a bird of light. It was a bird that can not be beaten.
And I asked my love, ‘I think that we should name the bird. What do you suggest?’
And she answered, ‘Oporajito.’
The finality in her tone echoed my thoughts. ‘Yes’, I said, ‘Oporajito will be a perfect name for a perfect bird.’
There is so much to learn from the bird’, she said softly.
‘There is so much to wonder about it’, I reflected.
The bird hopped around for a while, steadily going away from us, minding its own business in a way that suited it; and it minded its business more carefully and precisely than any other bird could have. May be its handicap had to do something with it. But then I thought, would that bird not be so perfect but for its handicap. I did not presume to know the answer. May be it would be, may be it wouldn’t. These presumptions were irrelevant. What mattered was that it showed me what can be achieved in life only if there is a will and an indomitable spirit.
The bird hopped and with each hop it defined the divinity of creation. And then it spread its wings. And within the span of its wings it held the universe, for the universe was not without it. It flapped its wings, its leg firmly placed on the ground. The storm that it created propelled it skywards, towards infinity, towards its home…
And I stared at its wake, feeling alive all of a sudden. I looked at my palm. The bird was hardly any larger than my palm and yet it could give shelter to more courage and determination than that this six foot tall body of mine can ever dream of.
I said in my mind, ‘Goodbye Oporajito, king of birds. No eagle can ever challenge you; no hawk shall ever defeat you… for you are the messenger of God. You are the light to the lost souls. Show them the way. Help them to live. Teach them never to give up. Teach them to stay still as you can stay still. Teach them the meaning of perfection. Teach them the meaning of your name…’
This was the story of a bird named Oporajito. This is the story of so many Oporajito s around us who try and try and try till they die. Even if they fail they are never defeated.
This is directly to you, My Blog Reader: do you know any such Oporajito? If you know then can you honour me by beautifying my blog with tales such Oporajito s? Their stories deserve to be told.
Regards,
Shubhabrata
