Nothing is too far and isolated
from the reach of all-pervading pollution. It’s the first week of November and
the Delhi NCR has turned a gas chamber. Even though I’m located almost 50 km
from Delhi, yet it smells as bad as in Delhi. The little serpentine trail of
wilderness running between the canals is shrouded in metallic haze. The trees,
birds, bushes, plants and the canals sulkily lay under the clawy grip of the
thick smog. There is no wind to swipe away the swabs of suffocation. Not a leaf
moves. Proud smog is heavily loaded upon mother earth’s bosom. If you take a
picture, it would definitely qualify as a beautiful foggy countryside picture.
But it would be lifeless. Over a period of time even this poisoned picture will
vanish to be replaced by an even bleaker vision.
Gone are the days of big groups
of birds. A couple of herons, two-three egrets and some meek cormorants play the
role of moving characters in this smog-smeared, frozen picture. A tiny warbler
preens from the clump of elephant grass. A parrot tweets dispiritedly. An ibis
gives a pathetic, suffering call. A few black kites go scouting the ground. A
coucal is busy in the tall clumps of sharp-leaved reeds. A migrant Bihari
laborer has cast a fish-line in the canal. A happy news at last bringing a
smile on his face. He catches a rohu,
a good half kg of freshwater meat. He is still fresh after the chhath celebrations.
Some Nepalese are employed at a
poultry farm. They have caught a swarm of little eels from the shallow waters
of a distributary field channel branching off from one of the canals. Life has
all the reasons to be busy against all odds. Wondering at the capacity of life
to adopt newer and newer ways of staying optimistic even in the face of all
these gloomy clouds, I move on my customary stroll along the thin ribbon of
wilderness along the space between the canals.
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