August rains have been far more in intensity and volume than the normal mark for the month. The solitary trail is overgrown with grasses, reeds, weeds and shrubs. One has to walk very cautiously at each step to avoid naughty snakes. It indeed is a solitary trail -- with one exception. A lone man rubbing hemp leaves on his palms to collect the black soot on palms that will turn to weed. Mother nature has been kind to him. Long rows of wild hemp plants on both sides. He will collect a few beedis worth of weed on his palms.
He is a silent, peaceful man, gently working on the leaves. He is not overcautious like most of the so-called tee-tootlers who don't touch meat, wine, drugs and weeds. But they carry their own nasha of power, influence, wealth and politicking. This silent man readily agrees to get videoed and photographed, just making a little request to not put on 'net-pet' as he puts it.
Weed inhalers are generally laidback people, not harming mother earth with their overblown worldly aspiration. Yes, they harm their own interests and their family's. But they aren't too spirited participants in the chaos that is being splashed around by the so-called sensible gentry.
I don't support and encourage weed smoking. But these people are cool in their own ways provided they keep it balanced with their duties to themselves and their families. It would be an icing on the cake if they decide not to get married because marriage is a big responsibility and if you get married you ought to get yoked into fulfilling all responsibilities instead of getting into a relaxed trance. Marriage plus weed smoking don't go together.
Sarus cranes are a symbol of lifelong fidelity. In a world where real love is getting pushed into the corner each passing second, the sight of a crane couple in lush green is nothing short of an auspicious sign. It's a shy couple. They just kept walking and didn't allow the gap to be decreased by my curious steps.
A friendly drongo. She isn't camera shy and allows photoshoot from close quarters. Definitely a confident, good looking girl of the drongo world.
This is what remains of the last natural wetland in the countryside around my village. Earlier it was a vast swamp covering many acres that would attract thousands of ducks and other migratory birds during monsoon and winters. Now just a tiny puddle with a few moorhens, ducks and a couple of kingfishers peeking into its sad waters from the wires nearby.
Kaka maharaj got angry about something and left his hut for a new place. This hut hosted him for more than two decades. The tiny hut is now getting mixed with nature as grasses and shrubs grow with full freedom around it.
The handiwork of weaverbird boys to invite girls to have a look and if they like it accept the suitor and settle for domestic life for the season. Some romeos have put great effort in elongating the grassy foyer to a great length. It's always a fight for the most beautiful girl through most impressive means of wooing. .
The solitary trail is indeed a solitary trail now. Clad in grasses and reeds like a shy countryside lass. A lovely musty solitary feel on it. You just inhale musty silence and sweating peace here. And each slow step counting as meditation.
The mountains come to my solitary trail in the form of river sands. Their slopes broken by the rainfed angry rivers and the sand arriving here in the form of canal sand. You can feel the essence of Himalayas in this sand. Take a fistful and smell. Yes, it's Himalayan smell.
My dear friend silk cotton tree is happy at last. Couple of years back the sand mafia had scraped too much earth from around its trunk cutting many main roots. It turned sad and stood with its pale leaves. No fresh shoot, no flowers for two years. No smiles. Now the monsoon has been more than normal this season. The tree wears a new green suit like a handsome man freshly in love. So happy to see and meet him. Shook hands with him. I'm sure he will smile this winter with his luscious red flowers.
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