In Hindu and Buddhist mythology, a kinnara is a creature described as part human, part bird—a human/bird chimera. Birds symbolise many things, including peace, freedom, hope, and new beginnings. In mythology, birds are often messengers of the gods, or even gods themselves. They represent a connection between the physical and spiritual worlds, and are often associated with the journey of the soul after death. In this imagined world, the bird boys carry that energy within them. No wings, but they move as if they had them—quick, quiet, watchful, and attuned. They listen. They understand. If they had wings, they’d probably fly away.
These boys have exiled themselves by choice. They live deep in the forest, on the margins of society, in temporary shelters built with their own hands. Upcyclers, recyclers, inventors—they make use of whatever the world discards. Hair is matted and bound with twine; clothes are stitched from what’s been salvaged or stolen. Though cut off from society, they’re not naïve. At night, they raid the edges of the modern world—gathering tools, batteries, food, and materials. Whatever they take is transformed. These are crafters, foragers, dreamers. Necklaces are strung with feathers, bones, charms, trinkets. Their bodies marked by sun, smoke, ash, and ritual. They bathe in streams and go skinny-dipping at midnight. They cook on open fires and eat what the forest gives. They know how to make medicine. They fish, they hunt, but never harm birds. Mushrooms are part of their diet—magic sometimes, too. They know about Aleister Crowley: "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law."
This is not fantasy. Not the past, nor the future. It is a parallel path. The bird boys are real because they could be real—their rebellion is quiet, dirty, and beautiful. They’ve read Walden by Thoreau, and The Wild Boys by William S. Burroughs. They reject ownership, hierarchy, and spectacle. They live without performing. Gentle, non-violent, but strong in spirit. Theirs is a kind of anarchism in the true sense of the word—not chaos, but self-rule. Not destruction, but freedom from control. There’s a stillness in them that feels ancient. They are not trying to escape the world—they are trying to survive it. To slip between its cracks. To return, somehow, to the source.