A man was walking through the woods one day. He heard a bird call. Three melodious syllables. The mysterious bird was nowhere to be seen. But its song filled the air. Three dulcet notes. Sung over and over again. +
Like a classical singer exploring every nuance of a musical motif, the bird sang those three syllables in an endless array of ways. Each more mesmerizing than the other. +
The lonely traveler walked out of the woods, the three notes whirling around in his head, making him dizzy with excitement. He couldn’t but help string them together and sing them out. +
A shepherd walking by, smiled at the man as we walked past him. Immersed in his imitation of the birdsong, the man barely noticed him. And instead of greeting him, sang out the three-note song. +
The shepherd thought to himself, ‘He must be from a foreign land, this man with the strange song. But what a catchy song that is.’ +
He led his flock of sheep back to his little home in the village, first humming, and then singing the irresistible melody that was now stuck in his head. His neighbor waved at him. And asked, “Why the song, good lad? Meet your sweetheart, did you?” +
The neighbor went in for dinner with his family. As he pulled his chair to the table, his wife and kids heard him sing a strange tune. ‘What’s with you, old man? I’ve never heard you sing in the fifteen years we’ve been together’, his wife said as she served him the broth. +
The next morning, the kids went to school, the neighbor to his rice field, and his wife to the market. Each of them singing the song that just wouldn’t leave their head. +
By the end of the day the whole village was caught in the grip of the three little notes and their enchanting appeal. +
Come the weekend, the village football team went to the big town to play for the big trophy with their big group of supporters. They cheered the team on, game after game, with the song that wouldn’t leave them. +
The song spread like a fire. It went in no time from people’s ears to their lips. And from there to new ears. +
The teams from all over the state (and one from even a neighboring country), returned to their towns. Maybe, with no trophy in their kit, but with a song on their lips. +
Meanwhile in a dark wood, a little bird that decided to sing a new song, tired of its old one, sat perched on a branch. Feeling weak in its legs, dizzy in its head, blurry in its vision, sore in its throat. But it still sang out those three notes it couldn’t stop. Co ro na.
