It was on the inside of the clear glass panels. It could see the bright day and vast sky straight ahead, yet, it could not get past the unforgiving barrier. It kept trying - tirelessly, persistently, obstinately refusing to give up. From early morn I'd seen it there, till the late evening as I was leaving for home. It could not see that if it were to just fly upwards, it could go through the windows which were open. Nor could it see that if it were to fly downwards, the glass panels give way altogether to absolute freedom of passage. It definitely didn't think that if it were to just take flight - in any direction at all - away from the impenetrable obstacle, it could very well have seen both alternative ways out.
I would have spoken to it, if only it could understand me. I would have told it not to go on pecking stubbornly at the same spot at which no resolution to its predicament could be obtained. I would throw an object at it to launch it into flight were I strong enough to reach such a distance. But there was nothing we could do. We could only be helpless bystanders, watching the hapless thing struggle in its misery.
I figured it wouldn't stop trying to get through the glass because it could see the world beyond it so clearly - it was all it wanted, and it was all its. And there it would be trapped - for as long as all it saw was the desired yet unattainable, and none else. At times, I wonder if I were any different at all.
Perhaps, when the day grew dark, when it could no longer gaze at the outside, it would spread its wings, and actually fly. Then, perhaps, it would stand a chance to break out, and be happy. Perhaps.