The Flying Wanderer - Sreelekha Chatterjee
A fluttering noise interrupted Vishal’s deep slumber. His half-closed, sleepy eyes followed the sound from where it originated and was astonished to find a winged visitor comfortably perched on the window sill. It was a beautiful yellow wagtail. On seeing Vishal, the bird hopped around a bit taking short, uncomfortable steps, flaunting its bright yellow–olive body color in the soft rays of the morning sunlight. It kept staring at him with its watchful, but surprised, blinking eyes till it was convinced that he wouldn’t cause any harm.
It was one of those migratory birds that aggregated in flocks and travelled in groups from their cold nestling grounds of Europe to his small village in Uttarakhand, North India. But this bird seemed to have been left all alone. Vishal noticed the bird deliberating over something with eyes lowered, chest throbbing with anxiety and excitement, while it adjusted the fluffy feathers intermittently, balancing on its trembling, agitated legs.
The bird’s solitary existence reminded him of his own journey. He recalled those days—several months ago—when he had moved along with a group of young villagers to UAE, a land of brimming migrants. It wasn’t his decision and not of his parents’ either, but induced by a social pressure of villagers. Several of them suggested to his parents about sending their 25-year-old son to a foreign land to avail better prospects under the preconceived notion that the galloping economies of the Middle East readily awaited to share a slice with these young men who dreamed about getting rich.
“What’s left in this village other than poverty and erratic weather conditions—a land inundated by floods during the monsoons and tormented by drought during summers—jeopardizing the lives of the farmers? It’s a different world altogether over there.” One of them had said, almost convincing Vishal’s parents about a grand life abroad.
Initially, he didn’t like the idea but later agreed, thinking that he’d build a fortune, return home after a few years with a fabulous wealth that would put an end to all their sufferings.
On reaching there, the struggle of the exile began as he felt the pangs of separation from his family and his homeland, battling with the inequities of life in a foreign land, and dealing with the gap between his expectations and the reality that existed. A sense of alienation prevailed as he observed the vast difference in culture, food, and perspective of people over there. But he adjusted for the sake of a reasonably- paid job, accepted the requirements of physiological adaptations and behavioral changes, and became one of the many Indian expatriates. Seldom did he know that his attempts to be content were short-lived.
He tried to be happy till the time he fell ill, afflicted with typhoid. Then the stroke of recession swept all of them off their feet, snatching away their employment, dissolving the very reason of their stay. Shortly after that, his fellow villagers decided to return to India as there was nothing that could be done but to exit quietly. They left without taking him along. They were like migratory birds that stayed at one place for a brief period till the weather was convenient and food wasn’t denied to them. But they didn’t follow the norms of migration and deserted him, unlike the migratory birds. One of the birds accompanied a sick one till it was fit enough to undertake the flight back to their abode. But his companions raised the issue of their survival and abandoned him under the pretext that he was too feeble to travel, still dependent on medicines and good care, and had to spend some more time over there till he recovered fully.
Gradually, all his money was gone and he ended up being a vagrant in a foreign land, perishing like a fruit detached from its tree. Ultimately, after much difficulties he somehow managed to come back home to his native village in India.
The bird on the window sill whistled out breaking into his thoughts. The vagaries of solitude that existed in the world of birds were unknown to him. But he could visualize the anxiety that the lonely bird was experiencing as he had gone through the same feeling of restlessness—a kind of helplessness to which he had succumbed when his fellow villagers were gone, leaving him all alone in the land of disturbances.
He gazed intently at the bird, perceived a void in his heart—a sense of loss, a sudden realization that the bird had to get back to its original land, followed by an oppressive dread of what would happen next. Also, the village wouldn’t be the same anymore—at least not the right place for the beautiful birds to spend the winters. A few days ago, the news spread that the government had declared the settlement of inhabitants in that area to be illegal and had asked all villagers to evacuate within the next few months, as the construction of a planned town would begin soon. Vishal never knew that they were migrants who had come over from a distant land to build a nest over there, nobody ever mentioned that to him. He wondered whether his forefathers knew that they were illegal immigrants in their own country. But the migratory bird was aware that it was the beginning of summer and it had no other option but to leave as the village could no longer furnish it with proper food and natural environment.
Vishal heaved a long, heavy sigh as it was time for another migration but for altogether different reasons.
He felt as if he’d developed wings and could fly like a yellow wagtail, experiencing an inert ecstasy. His body started responding like a migratory bird to the change in the day length, conscious about the imminent destruction of his habitat, a village moulding into a busy hub of city life where his existence was nil, nonessential. But he had prepared himself for the long voyage to an unknown land he knew not where. He flew higher and higher almost touching the vastness of the clear blue sky, with eyes fixed on the land below, searching for greener pastures once again.
Originally published by Aagaman - The Arrival Magazine 2015
Sreelekha Chatterjee’s short stories have been published in various magazines and journals like Borderless, The Green Shoe Sanctuary, Storizen, Five Minutes, 101 Words, BUBBLE, Indian Periodical, The Chakkar, The Hooghly Review, Bulb Culture Collective, Prachya Review, Creative Flight, Literary Cocktail Magazine, and have been included in numerous print and online anthologies such as Fate (Bitterleaf Books, UK), Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul series (Westland Ltd, India), Wisdom of Our Mothers (Familia Books, USA), and several others. She lives in New Delhi, India.
You can connect with her on Facebook at facebook.com/sreelekha.chatterjee.1/, on Twitter @sreelekha001, and Instagram @sreelekha2023.
