A touching story of a boy, a broken bird, and the hope that mirrors Siadant’s mission to uplift underprivileged children.
Boy and bird – symbolic story
The Beginning of a Story of Hope and Healing
It was a quiet summer morning in a remote village in Bihar, where an educational camp was being held for some of the poorest children, not just in Bihar, but among the most underprivileged in the world. The air carried the scent of dust and hope. My eight-year-old son and I had come to visit, to be part of something that brought light into young lives, shaped by hardship.
As we walked past rows of modest huts and the shade of tall trees, my son’s voice rang out—urgent, filled with concern. “Daddy, look!”
He pointed to the ground where a small bird lay still, breathing but broken. It was a barbet— its vivid green feathers dulled by dust, its wings limp and trembling. The trees above stood like silent witnesses to its fall.
Compassion in Action
“Can we take it home?” he asked, eyes wide with a quiet urgency. I nodded. How could I refuse?
We brought the bird back to our home. We gently placed it in a shed with a mesh door, ensuring no cats, dogs, or other animals could enter. It looked fragile, too weak to live. It didn’t eat or move. We filled a syringe with glucose water and carefully let drops trickle into its beak, hoping it might find strength.
A few days passed. It remained still—alive, but barely. Then came a turn for the worse: severe diarrhea. I thought this would be the end.
The Refusal to Give Up
But my son wouldn’t listen. “No, Daddy,” he said gently but firmly. “It needs our help. We’ll try till the end.” His resolve steadied mine.
We crushed ripe bananas and offered soft mangoes. Slowly, the bird responded. The diarrhea stopped. It began to move, to peck, to flutter. Soon, it was hopping around the shed, its wings relearning the air.
And then, one day, I went to check on it—and it was gone. A small gap near the shed’s roof told the story. The barbet had found its way out.
What the Barbet Taught Us
Maybe it was now flying free in the open skies, healthy and wild. Or perhaps it had become prey to the unforgiving world outside. I’ll never know. But I carry the quiet joy of seeing a helpless, broken creature slowly return to life.
What stays with me even more is the strength of my son’s heart—his refusal to give up when I was ready to. His small voice was enough to turn despair into care, weakness into healing.
Reflection: A Symbol of Our Children
Looking back on that little barbet, I realize it was more than just a bird—a symbol. A symbol of all those children I met at the camp, struggling in silence against the odds of poverty, neglect, and an unkind world. Like that barbet, they lie hidden in the dust, wounded by life, waiting for someone to help.
The question that lingers is no longer about the bird, but about me. Do I give up, like I almost did with the barbet? Or do I, like my son, choose to stay—choose to care, to try, and to bring life, however slight the chance may seem?
Because sometimes, all it takes is one person who refuses to give up… for a soul to take flight.
