The Answer

The leaves rustled as the moon shone upon the path, on that autumn evening. I walked down the street, thinking about last autumn, lost in those thoughts. Questioning, asking why it had to take place. A truly peculiar incident, I would say, wondering what good could be made of it. "It is an unknown mystery, a mystery I describe. Born from hesitation, hesitation that cannot be transcribed." Here I am, to describe those indescribable events.

I was walking on that very street that day, and halted on the sight of a beautiful cage. The cage held one bird, a definitely lonely one. I stared right at it, trying to immerse myself in that bird's soul. I looked at the bird, it looked at the sky. That bird, felt unwanted by the sky, and the cage. The one thing that frees, the one thing that ties. Where does the bird truly belong? The sky was filled with birds, no space for the lonely one, truly.

There was a disturbance in the bird's gaze, it looked on its right. I followed its gaze, just when a dense mist, and fog surrounded the street. All that fell on my sight was a silhouette, a man with a walking stick, limping towards me. More accurately, he seemed to limp towards the bird's cage. I wanted to go near him, but a sense of hesitation hit me. It was an internal struggle, the urge to go, but the instinct to stay.

I didn't go near him, but I asked, "Who are you?" Maybe some part of me thought that this wasn't the right question at the right time. My sixth sense said that he was staring at me, as an awareness of my presence. He didn't tilt his head to look at me, or glance at all. In a deep voice he replied, "Who may I be? Great question. I am one, who everyone knows; but only little do they know about me." I was stuck at one place, unable to move. I probably didn't want to move. This struck me with an enormous number of questions, but I didn't have the desire to ask.

He is still out there, with all the answers, and the one bird, which led us to meet. Is it there, where the bird truly belongs? Do I belong there too? He is still out there, watching me search for the answers, wanting to help, but is unable to. After all, this continuous mental struggle forces me to, today call him the "answer".

— Gauri Singhal