Cumulus clouds drifted slowly in the sky as humming birds flew beneath them, making random circles, pentagons and ellipses. The trees made soft whooshing sounds as the wind flirted with their foliage. Everything was calm and serene. Yes, serene; that was the word that best described the environment of the park. The only thing that seemed to be missing was a flowing stream. That would have made it picture perfect.
Still, even a flowing stream wouldn’t fill the blank for Robin; nothing would make the picture complete. Not the clouds, not the humming birds, not even a calmly bubbling brook would help soothe the turbulence that had risen in the four chambers of his heart. Robin slowly opened his eyes. He had no desire to gaze at the floating clouds; he knew the birds
would keep flying—it was the only thing they did. And since it was autumn, the leaves were destined to fall. Destiny; how he hated that word. “It’s not in your destiny,” he remembered the exact words he had been compelled to hear only a few hours ago. The synchronised movement of lips on an emotionless face had uttered these words.
There were no second takes in this act. He had given his best shot and he had lost. Robin sighed and shifted his weight on the grassland. He had been lying there for a while. He had carelessly forgotten to keep an account of the time. Besides, he had nowhere to go. He had hit his head on a dead-end. How he had hopefully looked forward to a wider, endless horizon. But here he was, confined within the four boundary walls of the park.
“It’s not in your destiny,” the words rang clear in his ears again. And though he didn’t want to, he re-enacted the act—him entering the consulate building and putting all his documents in order; the air filled with perspiration and hope; an aura of pain, pain of rejection; and the bland sound of stamps after hearing which your ears turn deaf to even the finest piece of music in the world. Robin couldn’t understand how someone could so easily put an end to the fulfillment of a dream. How could someone, without so much as looking into your eyes, pierce right through your heart?
“Maybe something was wrong with my documents,” Robin thought for the umpteenth time, or maybe, it was just not my destiny.
The right pocket of Robin’s trousers made a buzzing sound. Robin jolted upright thinking that it was a bug, only to realise that it was his mobile-phone ringing. He knew who the caller was without even looking at the number on the mobile-screen. It was thirty minutes past four in the afternoon and it was time for Robin to receive that call.
“Hello!” An excited voice echoed from the rectangular device in his hand.
“Hey!” Robin tried to sound happy.
“I’ve done it. I did just what you said and I won the match.” The excitement in the voice, its ring of pride and victory, was irrevocable.
Robin smiled as his daughter giggled over the phone. He could almost see her—still in her school-uniform, trying hard to whisper so as not wake up her napping grandfather, and making faces at her mother who always reminded her to keep the conversation short. Robin wished to be there in his home, the same home he was willing to run away from. “No, I wasn’t running away,” Robin corrected himself. “I was just changing the direction of my yacht.”
He only wanted to take a flight to some place abroad; like migrating birds that fly over the rivers and mountains to find their way into a safe haven. Only unlike those birds, Robin wasn’t planning to return after a season.
“Daddy, are you there?” The loud whisper continued. “I can’t wait to show you the trophy.”
The trophy; the bronze statuette that glistened like gold.
“It was a tough match. The words were difficult to spell and pronounce. But I tried. Like you said, it wasn’t winning I focused on. I just gave it my best shot, and that finally did it. I won.” Robin knew his daughter was having a hard time keeping her volume low. She had won, his daughter had won when he had lost, and the excitement was evident in her voice. “We took a picture too, daddy. I want to show it to you.”
A picture of his daughter smiling from ear to ear. Robin suddenly remembered other pictures he had envisioned in his mind; pictures of some faraway land where he might have found opportunities, money and happiness. But long before he could put those pictures upon a mantel, they had been torn into pieces.
“Daddy, are you alright?” Afraid that his daughter would sense disappointment in his voice, and she could, Robin cleared his throat and acted normal.
“Yes, I’m very happy and very proud of you. Keep that trophy and picture intact,” Robin said.
“Hey dad, is this gold?”
“What is?”
“This trophy. It glitters like gold. Is it really gold?” Robin knew her ever-so-keen eyes would inspect the trophy in her hand as if it were some alien object.
“Would you care about it less if it weren’t gold?” Slowly Robin stood up and walked toward a nearby bench. There should have been a stream here, he gazed around. His eyes searched for that non-existent stream. There was silence at the other end of the phone. She’s contemplating the fact, Robin mused as he continued walking.
“Oh I love this, gold or no-gold. Besides, it’s not gold that makes you happy, right dad?”
Robin stopped short. What did his daughter just say? It’s not gold that makes you happy. Yes, gold doesn’t make you happy, nor can the mirage of a faraway land guarantee happiness, he mused. Maybe his trophy in bronze had been there all along. It was just that he wanted it in gold. And he knew he had tried to paint it gold. Oh how hard had he tried and how badly had he lost!
Robin walked slowly and sat down on a bench. He gazed around and looked at the nearby trees. He saw a few migrating birds building their nests. He wondered what place they had left behind in order to breathe and breed in an ecologically safer land. “Men aren’t any different from birds,” Robin thought—both in a continuous search for a new place, a new hope; both in a hardship to adapt; both always ready to take off and change their destinies; both beguiled by a faraway land, incognizant of the consequences—and yet, Robin concluded, both will continue flying in a new direction every other day.
“You’re quiet today, daddy.”
Robin tried to concentrate on his daughter. “Those sounds. Are there birds around?”
“Yes, migrating birds, the kind that travel to a new place every new season.” The chirping sounds of the birds did what the non-existent stream couldn’t. They created a soothing arousal in Robin’s ears and heart.
“Birdsong…today I learnt what Robin means. It’s a bird. Robin—the bird.” Robin could hear a gentle tone in his daughter’s voice. “You won’t fly away, daddy, will you?”
We all have to fly, Robin wanted to tell her. It’s just a matter of where or when. “No, I won’t,” Robin lied. She will learn in due time, Robin thought, but not today.
“Oh!” Robin heard his daughter heave a sigh. “I was afraid you’d say yes. Now come back home, daddy. Remember the trophy?”
“Ahh yes, the trophy. I’m coming home.”
“Okay, got to go. Mommy is giving me her infamous stare. Bye, daddy.”
Robin could hear soft giggles as his daughter put down the receiver, sounds to which his life was anchored. And he knew that no matter where he went, he would always get back to those sounds. Like birdsongs, those sounds would never fade away.
Robin put his mobile inside his pocket as he rose up and hurried toward his home. Only a few hours earlier, his legs had been numb. He had had to drag his legs out of the consulate building. And now, he couldn’t wait to put one foot in front of another. He couldn’t wait to reach home and behold his daughter and the victory she had accomplished, her trophy—the bronze trophy.
As Robin walked back home, he saw a pair of birds perched on their newly-built nest. And even as they chirped, sang and flew around their new home, they knew that one day they had to get back; even though they had flown far away from home, they knew their way back.
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