If women didn’t exist,
all the money in the world would have no meaning.
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Untangled..!
Robert Clements
There were tears my daughter’s eyes, as she led me up to the terrace.
“Look what they’ve done dad,” she wept. I stared with horror. The bird,
a pigeon, hung by its neck, held by a thin string, one end attached to a
tree.
“How could anyone do something so cruel?” I thundered. Looking with pity
at the lifeless body. I reached out to the dead bird and found that the
same string was tied all round the little mite. “They tied her up dad,”
cried my daughter and then hung her there to die!”
I shook my head as I looked a little closer. “No,” I whispered. “Nobody
hanged her, she hung herself.” My daughter looked at me with wide eyes
of disbelief. “Are you suggesting suicide dad?” she asked angrily. “No,”
I said, “suicide would be a voluntary act. This little one, flew into a
lot of loose string and tried to untangle itself. The more it struggled,
the more the innocent looking string wound itself round her body and
round the branch, and she just hung to death..!”
We pulled down the miserable creature and cut the string from around its
lifeless form. I could have sworn there was a look of absolute shock and
surprise on its little face. “I can’t get out of this mess,” the face
seemed to say. “And now the mess has killed me!” .
I wondered what the little bird could have done to free itself. I
pondered awhile as I looked at its dead form. Maybe it could have sat
quietly on a branch, carefully scrutinized the string and slowly pulled
at it with its beak. I looked at its beak, a petite, insignificant ,
pint sized attachment. Good for catching minute, helpless worms, but not
strong enough to yank cruel string.
“You know something,” I told my daughter as she cradled the dead
feathered body, tears freely rolling down her cheeks. “There’s nothing
on earth that it could have done to save itself, poor thing!”
She looked at the bird then looked up at me. “No dad,” she whispered.
“Who was it that finally took the string out, though too late?”
“I did,” I said. “If it had come to you before it died you could have
saved its life.” I nodded and then felt an unease all around me.
“There’s string on me too,” I thought. “Strings of problems, worries,
doubts, fears!”
I went down to my study and thought of the little bird, struggling with
all its might to get rid of the diabolic thread, and slowly getting more
and more entangled till finally that harmless looking piece of yarn,
snuffed out its light.
I felt the same unease and knew the string of troubles and dread and
despair were slowly, yet surely suffocating my life too: Unpaid bills,
treacherous enemies, unforgiving friends, unresponsive loved ones. The
noose was tightening and my breathing getting slower.
It was just a matter of time I thought, before the difficulties around
would choke me to death. “No,” I shouted, “I don’t want to be like that
dead bird!”
Kneeling, I felt the hands of my Maker, slowly, pulling out each dreaded
thread that was wrapped around me. And then I looked up and smiled, as I
felt the air rushing back into my lungs. He had untangled me and I flew
free again..!
