The spring's last day

It’s the last day of March and the month of spring leaves a soft, languorous nostalgia. There is a deceptive, denotative simplicity in the manner the trees, apprehending the boiling and beguiling summer, are shedding leaves to get a light-clothed summer look. Although there are still some honeybees, gloating with sensuousness, singing librettos to raise the spirits in the source of their food, yet the flowers are losing colors. The spring still holds its oblique ambience as is proven by many butterflies that flutter among the engaging crosscurrents of this brief interval between cold winters and hot summers.

The mornings have big dewdrops on the grass and the pathside shrubs and weeds. Under the rays of the rising sun these shine as culturally illuminating and beautifully layered pieces of marvel.

Hit by the unyielding whip of love and passion—inevitable for someone as young and handsome as he—the oriental magpie robin seems forlorn after diving in the unfathomable depths of love. Given its young age it’s yet to come to terms with loneliness. Its multivalenced sensitivities will gestate, germinate and grow as it matures to learn the value of solitude in old age. Its love affair seems to have been very short-lived. After wooing him with her oeuvre of feminal charms—catching him in the pools of lean, taut, bustling desires—she flew away. After parting from the honored custodian of its heart, the forlorn lover is now left to sing sad love songs. Going along the shading and layering of painful emotions, it’s sitting on the dry branch of a completely dead neem tree. The sadness inside maybe makes it feel comfortable in sitting among a matching surrounding.

This bird is a very bubbly imitator of notes. Its dynamic dialogues surely cross many birdie social interfaces across various species. That makes it seem a very confident little bird. However, as of now among the sadly dead canopy of the neem tree it’s singing the songs of loneliness. A male house sparrow is sitting silently just a foot away from the sad bird trying to overcome the post-breakup melancholy. Possibly the sparrow is trying to learn the amazingly varying notes so that he too can use the skills in wooing the best-looking girls of his species. Who knows, there might be another reason also. As of now the dashing magpie robin is letting out trilling notes. Maybe the sparrow thinks that a few girls of his species will get duped into taking this great song to be his composition and turn his fans. Well, irrespective of the reason they maintain their positions for almost half hour, while the sun turned hotter as it moved up the horizon. By the way, the magpie robin still comes to the little clump of trees in our yard to rest for the night.

The hosting parijat tree has gone crazy and is shedding its leaves quite madly. Possibly the magpie likes its nighttime resting house bearing a sad look of loss and paleness befitting its lonely state.

It’s the start of the harvesting season and the sparrows have gone. They have plenty of grains in the open fields to feast upon. The parijat has plenty of button-sized pods, the seeds of its fertility. It will stay almost withered till the monsoons arrive. It will then throw away its seeds with orgasmic delight. And then it’ll wear bright new shiny green clothes, a kind of celebration for an annual cycle completed, a kind of fulfillment of its natural duties.

A rufous treepie has delayed its going back to its home in the Himalayan foothills. Let’s hope it realizes that it’s getting late and flies for its little dale in the hills because the silence there awaits it motherly.