Birds and babes

Of late, I notice that I reflect more often. Not because I am sad or lonely or unwell but because things I did not notice earlier I have now grown to observe and listen to carefully and they mellow the perceptive side of me that I had unconsciously suppressed over the years.

I am excited about the sunrise each day and the misty morning coolness, burst of birdsong and fresh flowers it brings along with it. I look forward to watering the plants on the terrace and hoping the newest arrival, the bulbul couple, will take advantage of the slightly extra water the pots hold and drink daintily. Our daily visitors are the chirpy starlings who make short but sudden appearances and even take the odd bath on a particularly hot day, fluffing themselves up and then startling us by a loud, sharp trill followed by an unseemly swift take off.

The kites and the crows have become familar neighbours too, the former dignified in their long, lofty and regal statuesque stations on top floor terraces of apartment buildings while the latter greet you with a raucous cackle, not trusting enough to come too close but acquainted enough to sit and stare at you with interest. Don't be surprised though if they jump off brusquely, should you attempt to address them or stride into some smalltalk. 

The funniest but unfortunately also the most annoying avian neighbours however happen to be the pigeons. Shoo them away a million times but they do not seem to get the message that all clean surfaces are not meant to be toilet territory. Not only that, I've seen birds of a feather indeed flock together (pun certainly intended) but defecate together?! Well, that one has to be a first. I assure you, I was both amused and repulsed by my first hand observation of this utterly scandalous conduct. They also remind me of the street dogs who wait till the eleventh hour to remove their furry girth from the middle of the road. I've always wondered, do they think they can will the nervous driver into changing tracks with some hitherto undiscovered form of canine voodoo?

Last but not least today, let us come back to the bulbuls. A particular persistent couple tried their best to conceptualise the upper base of our verandah fan as full of nesting possibilities. After we cleared off the straw and associated debris, they gave up the idea and switches to the first floor verandah instead of our neighbours, who returned from a week's trip to find some unexpected additions to their ranks. However, I was thrilled beyond measure to hear a sharp trilling one dawn a couple of months ago and a red flecked black hooded creature eyeing me warily from, once again, the upper base of our verandah fan. The bamboo curtains (chik) needed to be downed several times a day thereafter to convey the message that we were amiable humans but not ready yet to foster bulbul babies in our cherished tiny slice of verdant heaven.

(To be continued...)

Monsoon madness

Above is the crow that was actually a pigeon.

I got drenched twice today morning trying unsuccessfully to dry out two buckets of laundry on the terrace. The first time, while blissfully in the bathroom, I had no idea that the clothes wrung dry by the washing machine were now being brutally battered by big bursts of monsoon moisture. The second time, I was plain defiant despite gloomy grey skies and my energetic arrangement of clothes and clips were sent into utter disarray within 15 mins by another gigantic grey abandon of whimsical waterborne clouds.

Resigned and resentful, I dumped the overloaded bucket by the terrace door and panted perilously down the stairs to shut yet another lot of windows against the onslaught of the moody monsoons.

Then this sombre sight met my eyes. Junior joined me and after much consideration, he overruled my identification of the avian species under observation and airily identified it as an extremely miserable-at-the-moment specimen of the pigeon species. He pompously explained that my error was natural as its bedraggled feathers rendered its colouring darker than usual what with the falling light etc. I was duly chastened. Not just by my mistake in identification but by the realisation that there were certainly other living creatures in a more pitiable plight than me at that point.

Talk about relativity!

উদাসী

রবি ঠাকুরের গান নিয়ে একবার রোজ বিকেলে বসি। গলা ভেঙে যায়, তাই ৩-৪ টের বেশী গাই না। কিন্তু এই গান গাওয়া আমার সঙ্গীত চর্চা শুধু নয়। আমার সাধনাও। গাইতে গাইতে কবির কথা হয়ে ওঠে আমার আত্মার আত্মীয়, এক অদ্ভুত ঔদাসীন্য মনকে ঘিরে দেওয়াল তুলে দেয়। পৃথিবীর সব দৈন্য, মালিন্য, ক্লান্তি, কঠোরতা আর আমাকে ছুঁতে পারে না। ঈশ্বর সাধনার মতোই তাই এই গান নিয়ে বসি রোজ বিকেলে। আড়ম্বর হীন, আতিশয্য হীন, অলঙ্কার হীন এই সুরের সাত্ত্বিকতাই হল ঈশ্বরের কাছে আমার পুজোর নৈবেদ্য। 

Rueing the road ahead

 It terrifies me what a world we are leaving behind as a legacy for our generation next. Is it even worth living in any more?

At any given point, I cannot pick up a newspaper and turn its pages without encountering global warming, deforestation, wars, rape, violence, communal disharmony or road rage. If you scoff at me and say that these are commonplace, well let me remind you all that they were not what we grew up with as collateral damage of a globalised lifestyle.

I am still teaching my son values like honesty, compassion and simplicity, all the time wondering whether these ethics still hold any relevance whatsoever in this disturbed, angst ridden, mindlessly materialistic era where I often wonder whether people like me are an endangered species. I am not saintly or special, though. What I am is a human being who still doesn't see through dishonesty, manipulation, amorality and perversion. I am still surprised and shocked when people waste water, buy stuff which isn't ecofriendly, spend millions on a marriage, push or slight or bully the less privileged or the differently abled, manipulate the masses for illgotten gains which won't accompany them after death or cut down yet more trees in a world where we are now struggling to bring down endless urban lifestyle induced illnesses.

Every time I scroll through my Instagram feed though, I regain the courage to navigate the mired mess of our microcosm. IAS officers who turn discarded clothes into recycled bags offered free of cost to hawkers, enterprising compatriots who organise clean ups in the wake of irresponsible tourists in the mountains, highly educated young businessmen who give up their highly paid jobs to enhance consumer awareness and even legally confront powerful MNCs in the process, teachers who change lives by tiny acts of unforgettable compassion...I am touched by these countless stories of relentless positivity and effort. Maybe these are the stories we need to propagate. Surely these are the tales our future generations shall listen to with wide eyed awe and wonder?