Vedantic Tales : The Discipleship
        of Ajay : The Osprey

In the morning he was awakened by a loud commotion nearby. Five or six crows were noisily attacking a pariah kite, who held in his beak a morsel of fish, snatched no doubt from some garbage heap. Wherever the kite flew, the crows followed, swooping down upon him, striking him in mid-air, allowing him no possibility of peacefully enjoying his prize. The crows grew in number, and suddenly the kite dropped the fish. Immediately, the crows dove after it, fighting fiercely among themselves. The kite flew to Ajay's tree and perched next to him, unconcerned.

You dropped it! jay exclaimed.

Right.

You just dropped it!

You said that. Of course I dropped it. It's only a scrap of fish. It's not me.

Ajay sighed deeply. I wish it were that easy, he said and let his head hang. The darkness of his midnight resolve swept over him, and he pictured his body crashing into the ground, lying broken and lifeless on some empty field. So much for Ajay the Flyer, Ajay the Trophy winner, Ajay the Monk, Ajay the This, Ajay the That! he thought with sorrow. All crashed, gone As he brooded over that limp, solitary body, he saw in his mind several pariah vultures circle over it, land near it, and hop awkwardly toward it. He cried out, Keep away! And then quite suddenly the words of the kite, who still sat calmly next to him, struck through his mind like a bolt of lightning: It's not me! The scene of his imagination became for an indelible second brilliantly illuminated the pitiful white and brown rags of his body, the huge, ungainly vultures closing in on it to tear it with their beaks, and he himself looking on, sitting beside the kite, untouched. It's not me! he said aloud with something like joy.

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