Not so long ago, she was a free spirit.
Bears in captivity are expected to live up to 50 years with good care. So, given the context, she may live another 40-45 years. Quite a life to live on— endless cycling within this tiny cage; no growling, no clawing, no scratching her back in the trees to mark her territory.
Felling Guilty to Capture the Moment
All she can do is circle inside the cage till she gets tired and give up on feeling the muddy soil after a drenching rain at monsoon or perhaps, tasting the warm blood gushing from the fish caught in her jaws.
Yet, her life goes on.
Head tugged under her hands as if she is ashamed of her captivity— all her might, it is useless now. She looks away from the visitors as if she is not at home. But the reality— she doesn’t belong here.
She is not subjected to being fed rotten meat and leftover vegetables at the end of the day. She is not supposed to beg for food from the visitors with a lifeless gesture. Her purpose of living is not to entertain the blind souls of benevolent humankind.
She was born majestic.
Her majesty can create fear among living souls, her claws can tear apart the flesh in moments sending a chill down the spine of every breathing creature. She can rule, she was born to rule.
She was born beautiful.
Her thick layer of black fur softens the harshest hands if combed gently from head to toe. Her hug can seize the moments— she can offer comfort; a sense of solace to a lost soul.
But there she is.
Living in this damp cage for years. Her yearning for a decent life is barely reflected in our eardrum, her voiceless whining makes us smile, makes us excited. And we parents; we speak evil of this innocent creature who never knows how to make its way through the dense forests, how to frighten others.
Our child rejoices to see her in captivity— grows a sense of cruelty, slowly moves away from being empathetic to the creation of the benevolent god. And god, in turn, replaces the subject of this “creation” thing with neighbours, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, and finally, self.
That’s how we are producing monsters— blood-loving psychos, sadists, and so-called civilised citizens.
