My left talon had turned red from the strain; the more I struggled, the sharper the pain grew. I was sure that after this long night, the coming day would only seal my death.

Everything around me was upside down, for I was hanging, tangled in a metal wire beside an electric pole. I had fluttered my wings with all my strength to free myself, but all in vain.

Thankfully, the pole carried no electric wires, only a supporting metal wire in which my rope was trapped. It was fixed beside an abondoned school building, with broken windows and doors. Some bricks, a heap of sand and some bamboo poles lay scattered around.

The sun had just lifted its edge above the horizon, prompting roosters to crow at their loudest. Early birds perched on nearby trees, chirping as they searched for food among branches, roads and plants. With every gust of wind, my body swung like a pendulum. Luck had never favoured me, so I held little hope of rescue.

Once, I had been trapped by boys in the jungle and tied with a rope. They laughed as I struggled to escape, flying me like a kite in the sky. When I rose too high, the rope snapped. That was one jinx. Another followed when I became tangled in this wire. At first, I believed the rope would loosen if I tried hard enough. Instead, each attempt only tightened it further, multiplying my pain.

Below me, a black cat stared with greedy, beady eyes, clearly hoping to make me her lavish breakfast. The more I fluttered, the more she wagged her tail and tilted her head. Finally, she sprinted away like a tiger towards a nearby lawn, perhaps to find sparrows hiding in the bushes.

As the sun climbed higher, everything grew brighter and clearer. Life around me picked up its pace; bikes roared past with smoke and noise, a school bell rang, children laughed and chased one another in a nearby school. All these scenes were familiar, yet now I saw them from the opposite angle. At times, darkness washed over my vision like a black curtain. At others, I drifted between awareness and stillness, unsure whether life continued around me or whether mine was fading away.

Suddenly, I felt a force strike my back. My eyes flew open. A man stood below me, holding a bamboo stick. He struck me again, and instinctively I fluttered my wings. He hit me thrice; I fluttered thrice, but the rope would not loosen. The man stopped, tossed the bamboo onto the sand heap and disappeared into the house opposite the pole. Though the blows had startled me, they also stirred a small spark of hope.

Two passersby paused near the pole and looked up at me, shaking their heads sadly. They thought I was already dead, electrocuted. My eyes barely stayed open, darkness urging me closer to the valley of death.

Then I heard the sound of a gate opening. My eyes flickered open once more. The same man emerged, this time carrying a long bamboo with a metal tool fixed to its tip. He sat on the heap of sand, fastening the tool carefully, testing the grip. Rising, he approached me. Instead of striking my back, he pressed the metal against the rope tangled in the wire.

He rubbed and rubbed. The pole jolted. I fluttered with the last strength left in me. His lips tightened as he gathered all his force, gripping the bamboo firmly with both hands. Slowly, the rope frayed, thinning into a wisp of thread. With one final effort, I was free.

I rose into the sky, hardly believing it. Below me, the man flung the bamboo aside and stretched his arms upward, as if celebrating a mission accomplished.

With time, my bruises healed and the rope became only a memory. Now, I live a happy life, a life I almost lost. Whenever sadness weighs on me, I fly back and perch on that pole beside the school. It renews my faith in hope, humanity and kindness.

Often, I see my saviour sitting on the lawn, reading. When he notices me, he waves and smiles, as if asking, “How are you, eagle?”

Craning my neck, I reply, “I am fine and happy. Thank you for rescuing me.”

With gratitude filling my heart, I take flight once more, always returning, again and again, on my quiet pilgrimage to that pole, to honour the man who gave me another life.

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 7th, 2026