Mynah on the ledge

It was a cold and quiet afternoon in gym. The lunchtime crowd had more or less dispersed leaving behind some familiar faces sparsely scattered around the place. I was at one of the weight stations, taking small breaks in between sets and happened to look out of the glass window. Outside was a mynah, standing albeit barely on a thin ledge, with heavy raindrops beating down hard on its wet feathers. It looked visible perturbed by its circumstances. It opened its wings and beat them frantically in attempt to shake off the water, but to no avail; rain just kept coming down nonchalantly. It seemed to be in an attempt to fly off somewhere to seek shelter but dare not, as the weight and wetness of its wings could mean a direct plunge on to the busy street traffic below. I stood there, seemingly in a trance for sometime, thinking what it would its next step would be when my thoughts were abruptly truncated by the deafening clump of weights clashing down on a machine nearby.

How many a times in life are we faced with dilemmas of such, where ambivalence creeps in unknowingly and the notion of "choice" seems so distant. The mynah, was "checkmated" at that juncture of its life, cornered by the crushing forces of the elements. To jump or not to jump? A leap of misplaced faith might end up a plunge to its end. Sometimes its not really a choice. Take calculated risks, one might say. Easier said than done, at the spur of the moment.

After finishing another set of weights, I returned to find the mynah no longer there on the ledge. Where had it gone? Should I even be surprised? Curious it might be, animals seem more willing to take risks than us. Proscrastination seems to be a human invention. When we have been (not become) civilised, we lose our instincts to make decisions for ourselves, preferring to sit on the fence to wait for something happen, or letting others make the decision for us.

"What would I do if I'm the mynah on the ledge?" I wonder.