Spreading a Wing

Walking towards my office building one morning, I looked skyward and noticed a few eagles soaring overhead. As I watched them, I was reminded of the white-chested sea eagles I had seen at the Vandaloor Zoo a few days ago. I tried to see if the eagles soaring above me were also white-chested. But they were way too far up for me to see the colour of their chests.

I stood there for some time, looking up and thinking how much fun it must be to fly that high up and not even bother to flap your wings. Even as I thought this, my mind switched back to a picture of the eagles in the zoo, and the contrast stung me. I felt a little sad for the eagles in the zoo, for obvious reasons; they don’t get to do those fly-highs they must be so good at. All they get to do is to perch on low branches all day and stare at people who stare back at them or click their pictures. But then again, I argued with myself positively, the eagles in the zoo are being taken good care of. They are all well-fed and have not a worry or care in the world. They don’t have to spend hours of flying in the quest for food, unlike the free eagles. Maybe the free-flying eagles even consider the ones in the zoo to be lucky! No searching or hunting, no hunger; free food and water, on time, every day (or as often as needed for a white-chested eagle). Wow, that must be a pretty good deal, right?

Only, the birds in the zoo probably don’t think so. Maybe they don’t even like the food being served to them! They are perhaps bored of just sitting there all day, doing nothing. What if they didn't mind the occasional hunger? What if their real hunger is for freedom?

After all this random ramble of thoughts, I decided that it was time to stop squinting at the sunny sky, and step into the office building. But it seemed like my thoughts weren’t quite finished yet. As soon as I stepped in through the glass doors, I found that I was comparing myself with the caged eagles, and my office with their cage at the zoo! Well, let’s just say I surprised myself with that one.

And my thoughts went on to validate in the following manner: Here I am, limited to my cubicle the whole day, doing things I’d rather not be doing if given a choice. If given a choice, I would be out there in the world. So what was it that still kept me here? The answer is pretty straightforward; the salary and the sense of security only a “job” can give you. Just like the eagles in the cages, I am being given my daily bread in a platter, but like them, my flight is limited. There are times I struggle with work that fails to inspire me. As far as the “food” is concerned, it is not that great either (if you know what I mean). So that leaves just the sense of security; a relatively predictable future, and an answer to satisfy anyone who seems to ask me, “What do you do?”

By all this (dramatic description?), I don’t mean to say I work at a horrible place where everyone hates their job. I like my comfy workplace, and I do face challenges, and get to do work I enjoy very much. I just feel like there is something missing; like it isn’t everything I ever wanted; like it isn’t my dream.

Unlike me, there are several people in my office who love what they do. They are who I like to call ‘the lovebirds’. Why lovebirds? My little sister asked me to draw a pair of lovebirds for her assignment on her “favourite bird” this morning. The lovebirds I drew for my sister are very unlike the eagles. They are also birds, but of a different kind. They like it just fine in their cages (I could be wrong, but they seem happy to me. Anyways, this is just an imaginative representation!). The settled life with their mates and babies, the little mud pots inside which they live, grains and leafy treats, little adventures with their neighbours (more lovebirds); this is the life they like. Inside the cage, they know they are safe from the hawks, kites and crows that wait to prey on them outside. To them, that is the perfect idea of life.

Here at my current workplace, I have everything I need. But is it everything I want? Do I prefer following my ever-changing (being THE most appropriate adjective at the moment) dreams and living off the edge, as opposed to the predictable, relatively safe future here at my current organization? Or will another type of ‘food’ do? To answer these questions, I’ve got one thing to figure out; am I an eagle who can handle the rough of the outside world, or am I just an insane lovebird who is spinning crazy, impossible fantasies.

Well?  It may take me a short while, or a long time, or even a lifetime to answer these questions for myself. I would probably venture out to test the validity of the famous, oft quoted motto of following one’s dreams. Or maybe I won’t. I need to tread carefully, though, lest some hawk get me while I least suspect it.

But exactly what are those dreams, you ask? The answer is an unending, tangled, technicolour mix of real, surreal and unreal.

I don’t have any of the answers now. What I do have is a glimmer of hope; one that is beautifully captured by this quote I came across coincidentally one day:  "My turn shall also come: I sense the spreading of a wing." - Osip Mandelstam