A lonely magpie sat on a low branch of the rose apple tree, among the bunches of ripe fruit and bloomed flowers. He waged his little tail and sang a song. A lovely song. The tune floated through the morning mist. Lovely and sweet. But no reply came. He sang again that lovely tune. High and low like a flute. But no reply came. “A lonely magpie”. They said. “Bad luck they bring. He must have lost his lover. Now moaning alone. He is bad luck”. They said. One for sorrow…
Then came the news. One after the other. Death of a relative. Sickness of a friend. What more can go wrong in a time like this? “Bad luck he brings. All black and white, mourning his lover’s death. Melancholic is that sound. So sour and unpleasant”. They said. “Shoo him away, shoo him away if you see him again!”. They said.
“There is sickness and death everywhere! It happens every day. To everyone. This is just our turn. It can’t be him!” I protested. “But, he is bad luck. Remember, one for sorrow…”, they said.
The following morning I heard his song again. Sweet and smooth like honey. A merry melody, in the rose apple tree. “Shoo him away…he is bad luck”. Yesterday’s memory echoed in my mind. Shoo him away.
I admired him for a while. And listened to his song one more time. And raised my hand, to shoo him away. Because I remembered, “one for sorrow”, they said.
And then, came a reply from far away. Mixed with the cool wind, wrapped in the fragrance of flowers. There came a reply from far away. The little magpie raised his head in joy. And sang his merry song once again. And I froze in surprise as another magpie came flying over the flower bushes. Through the trees. My jaw dropped open and my eyes widened with joy when I saw a third magpie following by. Small but proud. His little wings beating so fast; so was my heart. His faltering flight brought a tear to my eye. A baby magpie!
Three magpies sat on a low branch of the rose apple tree. Among the bunches of ripe fruit and bloomed flowers. They waged their little tails. And sang a merry song. A song of love and joy. Pride and delight.
I dropped my hand and smiled to myself. Stood like stone, not to disturb them. “One for sorrow”, they said. But now there’s THREE. And I completed the rhyme, “two for joy and three for GLEE!”.