The Lesson of Freedom

The Lesson of Freedom

BY:Ubaid

Animals and birds have always held a special place in my heart. My affection for them is so deep that anyone who visits my home can immediately see it. I keep nightingales, cuckoos, starlings, parrots, and many other birds. Their chirping fills my mornings with joy, and I often find myself spending hours just listening to them.

But not everyone in my family shares my enthusiasm for keeping birds in cages. My parents have always tried to make me understand their perspective.

“My dear,” my father would gently say, “birds belong to the open skies. They are meant for freedom, not captivity. Keeping them locked away is not fair to them, and it could even count as a sin.”

I always tried to defend myself. “But Father,” I would reply with innocence, “I take such good care of them! I give them fresh fruit every day. In winter, I even put a small bulb in their cages to keep them warm. They should be happy with me, shouldn’t they? Out in the wild, who would care for them this much?”

My father would only smile at my words. Perhaps he thought I was too young and naïve to understand the depth of his advice. What he didn’t realize was that my love for these creatures was genuine, and the thought of letting them go felt impossible.


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A Night of Realization

One evening, my parents were invited to a wedding. Because I had an important exam the next day, I stayed home to revise. After they left, I made sure to feed the birds, then shut myself in my room to study.

Sometime later, I felt thirsty. I got up to open the door, but to my shock, it was locked from the outside. For a moment, I panicked. How could this be? Perhaps I had shut it too forcefully, causing the latch to jam.

I checked the time. It was only 7:30 p.m., and my parents wouldn’t return before 9:00. That meant I had at least an hour and a half to wait. I thought of shouting through the ventilator window, hoping a neighbor might hear, but the opening was too high. I was trapped.

The silence of the locked room made the minutes crawl by painfully. I had nothing to do but sit and wait. The longer I sat, the more restless I became.

It was then that a striking realization hit me: here I was, anxious and uncomfortable simply because I was locked in for a short while, even though I was safe, had light, and knew my parents would soon return. But what about my birds? They had been living in confinement for months, perhaps years. They had wings yet could not fly. They could hear other birds outside but could not join them. If I, a human being, was feeling so trapped after only an hour, how much more must they long for freedom?

The thought shook me. I began to see things differently. My so-called love for them was not love at all—it was selfishness. I loved hearing their songs, but at the cost of their liberty.


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The Decision

At last, I heard the sound of a car horn outside. My parents had returned, and soon after, my father unlocked the door. Stepping out of the room, I felt a wave of relief. The air suddenly felt fresher, the space wider.

Excitedly, I told them everything that had gone through my mind during those trapped moments. “Father, tomorrow I will set all the birds free,” I announced.

My mother looked at me with kindness and asked, “Why tomorrow? Why not tonight?”

I shook my head. “It’s already late. If I release them now, they might not find their way or a safe place to rest. In the morning, after I feed them one last time, I’ll release them into the daylight. That way, they’ll have the whole day to fly, search for food, and find their new homes.”

My father’s face lit up with pride. “Now you truly love them,” he said warmly. “From tomorrow onward, they will love you even more—not because you kept them, but because you gave them what they needed most: freedom.”


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The Morning of Farewell

The next morning, I woke earlier than usual. I filled the cages with seed and water, then sat watching the birds for a long time. Their bright eyes and restless wings seemed different to me now. I could almost hear their silent plea to fly.

Finally, with a deep breath, I opened the cages one by one. At first, the birds hesitated, as though they could not believe the doors were really open. But soon, one brave parrot fluttered out, and the rest followed. The sight was magical. They soared high into the morning sky, their wings glistening in the sunlight.

Tears welled in my eyes, but they were not tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. In setting them free, I felt lighter myself. I realized that true love means not possession, but sacrifice. To love someone—whether human or animal—is to want the best for them, even if that means letting them go.

That morning, as the birds disappeared into the horizon, my heart was filled with peace. Their songs, carried by the wind, seemed sweeter than ever before.

And I knew then that my father had been right all along: freedom is the greatest gift we can give.