Belonging Creative HSC Final

Birds Were Never Meant To Fly

Her head jerked back. Her hair strained. The elder yanked again. And again. She
suppressed a yelp as her dark hair was bunched and knotted with bright cotton threads.
Ying Lang lifted her head, and tried to look past the numerous attendants into the
mirror, but her vision was obstructed and she could only see fragments of herself. The
elder finished the coiled braids and exclaimed with a triumphant Ha! before draping a
heavy red veil over Ying Langs face.
Its time Ying Lang, theyre waiting,
Ying Lang shuffled to the door. She crammed her feet into the tiny red slippers. She felt
her toes cramp and curl in the too-small shoes. She took a step and winced; but steadied
herself and limped out the door.
*
Ying Lang! Come back! Stop running! Go put some shoes on at least!
I laughed as Mamas voice trailed far behind me, growing more distant with every leap.
My hair streamed joyfully on the crisp breeze and the paved streets gave way to rich,
moist soil as I flew across the mountain plateau. I took a long breath, reveling in the
bouquet of fragrances; the musky scent of goats watched over by their goatherds and
the distinct smell of jasmine flowers blossoming haphazardly across the plain. The
broad landscape before me was glorious and mysterious; I felt like a small but perfect
piece of the puzzle that was the untamed yet alluring Fu Zhou province. I closed my
eyes, laughing and spinning with my arms out, basking in the invigorating sense of
freedom.
But then I smelt guo tie dumplings.
The smell of food reminded me of why mama had been calling me; it was almost
lunchtime. I made my way back, hoping that mama wouldnt be too angry. As I passed
through the village, a sense of unease gripped me. The hunched form stumbled on the
uneven pavement. Composed herself. Stumbled. Fell to the ground. She winced as she
picked herself up and balanced on her miniature feet. My heart was sorrowful as I
watched grandma gather her skirts and hobble away, thankful that feet bind was no
longer practiced.
Ying Lang, there you are! Get in here right now and take out the chopsticks and mats,
lunch is ready! Aiyah your feet are all dirty again What am I going to do with you....
*
Every step she took sent a jolt of pain up her leg as she hobbled over to the waiting jian
yu. Relief flooded her as she was finally able to sit down, quickly followed by

apprehension at what the bridal carriage symbolised. The men grunted with effort as
they lifted the jian yu onto their shoulders and set off. The heavy red cotton obscured
the view down the mountain, but she could hear and smell what she couldnt see. The
birds still sang, the goats still bleated and the sweet aroma of jasmine drifted
tantalizingly though the cloth that screened the litter.
The mens breathing grew laboured and their strides became shuffles. The birds grew
silent and the goats stopped bleating. The smell and stench of smoke, the stink of
decaying flesh and drying leather all surrounded the carriage. Ying Lang could feel her
breathing come in short gasps and the sickening odours wrapped themselves around
her, encasing her in a second prison within the jian yu. She became acutely aware of the
heavy clothes weighing her down and the heavy cloth walls enclosing her. She was
trapped.
*
The bird sat in the cage. Mama and baba had said that I should not have taken it from
the nest but it had been a tiny bundle and was lying there alone, I could not bear to
leave it. I gazed wonderingly at the creature as it stared intently out the window,
watching a flock of sparrows fly by. Sometimes I regretted imprisoning it, but could it
survive beyond the cage? I provided it with everything it could ever wish for: food,
shelter, safety. I smiled tenderly at the creature; it must be as baba says, you dont
know what is best for you, Im doing this for your own good.
*
It was dark. The valley between the mountains was far from the heavens and smoke
obscured the stars. The bridal procession had stopped in front of the imposing gates
that stood open. Ying Lang eyed the crimson drapes and fire crackers hanging from the
entrance and all throughout the hallway of the house. She turned her face to the ground
and bit her lip. The smell of guo tie frying, once a welcomed aroma, now sent waves of
nausea through her. Ying Lang took a deep breath and placed one foot over the
boundary between the house and the courtyard. Then the other. Tears trickled onto her
veil as she shuffled through the hallway and made her way to the ceremonial room. She
had nowhere left to run.
*
Mama stood at the door.
It has been arranged Ying Lang, your father has decided. The wedding will be in a
month.
I opened the cage.
But the bird could not fly.
862