Seek deep within your inner self and magnify the many colorful layers within your magnificent and vibrant soul. Expose and express your bold and beautiful self by spreading your feathers freely and proudly like a peacock for all the world to see
Melanie Moushigian Koulouris
The afternoon sun was at its zenith on a hot Summer’s day. The ball of fire blazed in the crimson sky and its rays of fury touched the dry crevices of the barren desert land. Parched and tired of flying, four birds of different feathers flocked together under the cool canopy of the giant Banyan tree, sipping from a stream of clear water. There was no cloud in sight, nor any respite from the warm winds. A Kite, buoyant in flight and flapping its wings in angled rhythm, was perched atop a twig - holding his beak high in vain vanity; a cruel-eyed Eagle, the apex predator of the skies, with his crooked beak and a heavy body, had joined him for a sip from the pool; a colourful and talkative Parakeet, with soft feathers, had emerged out of a hole in the tree trunk; and a Cuckoo bird, possessing an inexhaustive repertoire of calls (whistles), drank mercifully to quench its thirst. Just as they were all done, a Peacock walked by to rest under the shade of the tree, unwelcomed by the other birds.
The Kite looked up and declared in boastful pride, “Now that I am refreshed, I shall fly back to the sky. I shall traverse the lofty peaks and ride the clouds as the winds blow past. The world looks tiny to me from up there and I am the master of all that I survey. I am God’s own creation for there is no one who can caress heaven like me.” Not to be undone by the Kite’s pride, the Eagle thundered, “Look at me. I am mean and cruel and I can kill at sight. You may fly higher dear Kite, but do you possess my strength? I can grab a rodent crawling in the desert or a fish skimming on the water - with my pincer-like claws. I am the greatest and the strongest. All the birds fear me. And you two, Parakeet and Cuckoo, I can tear you apart with my razor-sharp beak.” Though cowing in fear, the Parakeet mustered some confidence, protecting himself within the tree hollow, and said, “I know both of you are strong. But look at yourselves. You are ugly. I am colourful and bright and I entice by sight. So back off Eagle and Kite.” The Cuckoo cooed and whistled, “Shut up, vain birds. When I sing, everyone listens. You may be powerful, beautiful or strong, but you can’t beat me when I am on song. So fly away and never return.” Oblivious to the banter, the Peacock bent his crowned head to sip from the stream. The other birds mocked and taunted him in chorus, “Look at him. We have something to show. The Peacock is big in size and can’t fly high. He has a croaky voice and no poise. He is not colourful and beautiful. He can’t hunt or fight. He is not one of us… in fact, he is none at all.” The Peacock quietly slid into the shade of the Banyan tree, easing his magnificent blue body and lovely feathers. Why should he have to prove his mettle to these vain birds? Silent in character and unpredictable in action were his forte. “So, keep chattering birds”, did he seem to say.
Soon the sun was enveloped by a cluster of dark clouds and the strong dusty breeze was eclipsed by a cool gush of fresh air, as little droplets of water fell from the skies. As the rain got stronger, the Kite perched on the tree to dry its wet wings. The Eagle, though hungry, also stood around. The rodents would have retreated into their burrows and the fish would not be easily sighted through the ripples on the water. The timid Parakeet hid itself inside a hole in the tree, shivering in the cold. The Cuckoo bird opened its mouth to sing, but instead coughed and choked as it spluttered out the rainwater. The Peacock stood up majestically and belted out a croaking war cry, as he unfurled his beautiful wide feathers in blueish-green hue and fluttered them for all to see. He sauntered up and down in happiness as the raindrops fell on his body. Villagers soon gathered to witness the spectacle. The Peacock, still oblivious of his audience, continued to match his steps with his unfurled feathers and rhythmically placed his paws on the slushy mud. The other birds were spellbound by this display of divine grace in the Peacock’s dance. How could they have forgotten? As the rain stopped, the other birds came out, drying their wet wings. Their sarcasm-laced chatter had been quelled by the Peacock’s silent retaliation. The Peacock looked up to them and smiled. He said, “I know, dear Kite, that I can’t fly high. I don’t have to, as I stay grounded on land. Dear Eagle, I can’t hunt like you; nor can I sing like a Cuckoo and I am not colourful like the Parakeet. But all this doesn’t pain me, for I have been created with a purpose. I am not a fair-weather bird. I progress and prevail in all seasons. Your strength may at times desert you, mine always sustains me. I am fortunate to be the only species of the Animal Kingdom that can Dance.” Leaving the other birds to contemplate on this, the Peacock walked towards three waiting Peahens - who stood admiring one of the rarest of male species created by God.
The Writer is a renowned Kuchipudi Danseuse and Choreographer
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