I am approaching her. I am trying to resist myself along the way. But I have to control my desire to resist. I cannot bear it anymore. I cannot bear to see her in pain anymore. For, it is my heart that aches when I see her in pain. I sit by her, cold and numb. There was a time when this proximity used to make me feel warm. But now, it feels damp. It is like a morning in winter when, even the rays of the sun seem to be cold and helpless. She is mute but restless. Yet I can hear the suppressed cries of her heart. The paroxysm of agony is making me number. I am looking into her eyes which probably detests me…eyes which can only see the distance even in this proximity. I am deceiving myself. I am trying to get as close to her as possible ignoring those iron rods that separates me from her. I do not want to see them. Why are these iron rods here? They maybe parts of the cage. I hate them. But I used to love them before. I loved them for keeping her safe…for protecting her by keeping her away from rest of the world…for keeping her with me. But I hate them now for coming in between both of us…the same reason why she loves them now… for keeping me from getting any closer. Why does she not want me to get closer? Why is she so restless? After all she is my White Dove. MY white dove. MY bird.
My little white dove which has always symbolized peace and love is not at peace anymore. She is hitting the bars of the cage with her wings to draw my attention to it. She is tired of hitting the bars again and again. Beautiful white feathers are getting ripped off her wings each time they crash into those iron bars. I can see hatred and fear blending in her eyes as she looks at me. How much more cruel can I be? I am still avoiding looking at the iron bars. I am continuing to deceive myself.
She thinks I am cruel. The whole world, brimming with hapless spectators who do nothing but butcher stories behind closed doors, would also think I am cruel. But I know that I am not. The purity of my thoughts and innocence of my actions are like coins lying in a wish pond. Who would really care about a few pennies lying at the bottom of the rocks? They would never surface up again. Even the fishes would ignore them. Of what use can a penny be to a fish?
I have been trying all the while to protect her, to keep her secure, to care for her and love her. But I could not see how my care and love was turning into a cage that incarcerated her. She has become my prisoner. I failed to understand that she is a bird…that God has given her wings to fly…that he would somehow take care of her. He is the protector, not me. Maybe she did feel secure for a while but not anymore. It is suffocating her. My cage made up of love and care is rusting.
My fingers are clasping the rusting iron bars. She has stopped beating her wings…perhaps fearing that I would reach for them and tear them off. But how can I ever do that? How can I tell her that I would never do that? Each time I reached for those wings, it was to caress them. But I will not be able to do that anymore. She would rather choose to die inside this rusting cage than be caressed by me.
It is time to make a choice. I can keep her locked up with me, exhibiting a false pride which may camouflage the turmoil in my heart…or…I can unlock the cage and let her fly away. My heart is beating fast. My thoughts have come to a standstill. I know it now. I know why my heart is beating fast. It had made the choice even before I approached her.
My hands are trembling now…I can see them grabbing the old keys and unlocking the cage. The lock is about to come off. Should I be really doing this? I am feeling so tempted to keep the cage locked. I do know that it is of no use yet this temptation is trying to come in the way of my decision.
The silence has been broken by the creaking sound of the cage opening. I did not realize my hands unlocking while my mind debated. My bird is not moving…she seems shocked…shocked with disbelief. I am waiting and watching…not knowing what to expect. Is she going to stay? No she isn’t. She is slowly gathering herself … and now perching on the edge. She will fly away now. I am looking into her eyes hoping that she does not hate me as much as she used to… hoping that she would show me some gratitude for letting her go if not for all the care and love. But her eyes are distant.
There…she flies away… She did not turn back for the last glance. She is spreading her wings and fluttering them rapidly… getting away… away from the cage… away from me. She is a free bird.
This cage is of no use to me… I am leaving it here. As I step back… I am experiencing something strange. I think I know what it is. It is not sadness. It is freedom. All the while I thought I had kept my white dove caged. But it was I, who was incarcerated. I had caged myself. I was inside the cage deceiving myself to believe that I am outside. By letting my white dove fly away, I had set myself free.
I am a free bird now.
