Foul Pond

There is a pond in the middle of a park. Three fowl lived in it- Duck, Swan and Waterhen. In the center was a huge, willow tree, into whose shade Duck, Swan and Waterhen would enter to have their daily siesta. But they each did so at different periods of the day. It had been that way since time immemorial, and nobody thought to question the why and what of the practice.

In the morning, Swan would swim gracefully into the shade, welcoming the dawn with elegant bows and civilized talk with the willow tree. At noon, she would glide out and let Waterhen take his place. Waterhen was extremely shy, and often hid in the drooping fronds of the willow. Safe in his hidey-hole, he said nothing, did nothing; but watched Duck warily, for Duck liked nothing better than to startle him by coming up from behind. It was a game Duck played every other day, and Waterhen did not enjoy it.

When evening came, Duck would quack loudly; so loudly that Waterhen ran out of his hidey-hole in terror. Then, with a proud smile, Duck entered the shade of the willow tree.

One day, a bemused Swan asked: “Why do you need the shade when the sun has set?”

Without a moment’s pause, Duck replied, “Because you have it in the morning, and Waterhen has it in the afternoon. The only time when I can come close to this willow tree is at night.”

“You are most welcome to join me in the morning,” Swan said politely. “There’s more than enough room under the willow tree.”

“Oh no, oh no,” Duck said. “You and Waterhen each have your turn under the tree alone. I want that privilege too.”

“What privilege is there when the shade is useless?”

“The privilege of having the shade all to myself. The worth or unworth of it is unimportant. Don’t you know anything?”

Waterhen, who had overheard everything, came over and said timidly. “If you want, brother Duck, I will leave the tree before sunset, so that you might enjoy true shade for a little while.”

“No, no, no. That won’t be necessary. There are lots of children in the park before sunset, and they are always praising my beautiful, white feathers. I don’t want to miss that. You are safe in your shade and hidey-hole, Waterhen. Never fear!”

Waterhen, being a shy sort of a fowl, blushed and fled to the farthest corner of the pond.

“Come over here, Waterhen!” Swan cried out. “Let us pound some sense into our brother.”

“I’d rather not!” Waterhen replied. “His manner offends me!”

“Then come and tell him. Perhaps he will apologize.”

“I don’t need an apology. All I need is my shade in the afternoon. That’s all I care about! Now, leave me alone. I’m getting a terrible headache..”

Swan, feeling very troubled, turned back to Duck.

“Waterhen will never amount to anything,” Duck said, grinning. “Hiding, that’s all he’s good at.”

“And what are you good at?”

“Finding shade!” Duck quacked in hysterical delight. “And do you know what you are good at, sister Swan?”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Who cares what you want or do not want to hear?” Duck snorted. “It’s very simple. You’re all talk. You spend the whole morning talking to a tree. Has the tree ever talked back? Tell me. You are puffed up with pretty words and graceful motions, but when it comes to the outside world- the children- you remain blind and deaf. If you paid any attention, sister Swan, you would know that the children throw food into the water. Wondering how I got this fat? You needn’t wonder any longer.”

“Why do the children throw you food?” Swan asked, fluttering her wings in disgust and bewilderment.

“Flutter all you like, sister Swan,” Duck scoffed. “But I’ll tell you the secret becauseI know you’ll never stoop to this. All I have to do to get food is nod my head, flap my wings and wiggle my tail feathers when they ask me to.”

“You mean…perform for them?”

“You call it perform. I call it survival. Go back to you wool-gathering and stupid illusions, sister Swan. I go to my shade now.”

If the willow tree represents all aspects of Islam- the umma, Qu’ran, Allah- which type of fowl do you think you are?

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