The Night-smile and day-time vestiges

He smiles through the dewy night, the night blooming jasmine, Har Singar. As the day opens its eyes, I find the vestiges of fragrant night scattered under the tree. The first thing I do these days is to collect the tree's offerings and keep it as a fragrant trophy on my desk. It makes my day. Keeps it smiling and fragrant. Thanks brother tree! I just put some water around you, and here you are with a shower of unconditional love, life, beauty and fragrance. The weather has turned amazing and your gift makes every day better than the previous one.

Refurbishing an old nest and the story of birdie care

Well, not all abandoned nests go unnoticed. While the rains lashed in August and September, a scaly-brested Munia pair (spice finch or nutmeg mannikin) set up an irregular, globular, oval nest of grass, straw lined with feathers and strands of cotton wool. The cycle completed and the hatchlings flew to take their chance on life on the tightrope of creation and destruction. The parents however are known to use the dormatiry off and on while on the way in their birdie sorties. So I have seen them a few times sneaking in for a restful night. The nest stands jolted after more than a month since the nestlings left. The rains and wind shook it. But then the old house is still fit enough to catch the eyes of a pair of white throated munia (Indian silverbill) who are a bit lazy and sociable little beauties who are open to move into used house. They have white throat running from beak to undertail, brown plumage and blue grey beak. So letting swift chirrup trill, the lady on house hunting is inspecting the rainlashed nest, evaluating how much of refurbishment might be required.

Quite incidentally, the original houseowner, scaly breasted Munia, also happens to be there on a nearby branch. Perhaps it has came for some noontime nap. The silent and peaceful bird with bright cinnamon head, full brown plumage and scaly patterns on breast just looks on pensively. Possibly it understands that laying eggs by someone is better than her sleep. So guys, no fight. It just looks at the would be mother with a strange detachment and allows the inspection. Hope we humans can learn something from these birdie guys.

Self-fucking moron or a happy go lucky filly? The choice is always ours!

The adventure and fun of life decrease in proportion to the distance between the point of your craziest, wildest urge of your heart and instincts on the one hand and the low point where you chose to be, driven, rather checked, by your fears, overvaluation, inhibition and assumptions, all of which stopped you from saying 'yes' to the moment and the choice which had all the possibilities to change your life miraculously. Never underestimate the consequences of your endeavors. A butterfly flapping its wings in Africa is linked to the causes which drive a furious hurricane in America. So no action is small, only our fears and insecurities turn it puny, belittled piece of failure. Coming back to that choice which could have seen you soaring in a sunny journey at the highest height, but which you missed through over-analysis and chose to crawl on earth, cursing yourself at every step over the so called missed opportunities. Long after that choice is gone, and you cast a helpless look at the sweeping miles between where you could have reached if you had the guts to say 'yes' to your heart and the poor point where you chose to be, you just can't help but find life almost meaningless. Destiny isn't a cheater altogether. There are moments passing through our lives when, with only a little bit of daring 'yes' we can change the entire course of our lives. Say yes to the liveliest, loudest, craziest, wildest cooing of your heart. If not the destination (and there is no destination by the way), you will love the journey for sure. A little stroll impregnated with your heart's agreement is far more substantial than hundreds of miles of sweating run if you have forced yourself into it. Those miles after miles are not the rewards to your self-punished self. That is the punishment for not being true to yourself. So listen to your heart, shut off all haggling by your mind which is tricking you by forcing you to compare your worth through the scales of others journeys. You have to have your own scale to measure the worthiness of your journey, how many miles you have to go, at what pace, at what stopovers and many more. Use others' scales and all you do is just self-fuck at the cost of lot of pain to your ass. So we always have the option of being a happy go lucky person instead of a self-fucking moron.   

A real journey entailing the mirage

Life isn’t just sailing in calm, composed waters. Mostly, the waters are stormy. That is the law of nature. It simply cannot leave things static. Things will turn static only at the moment of the cosmic crunch, the opposite the Big Bang when the universe will implode to start exploding again in the next spell of activity. So till then enjoy the activity.

Overall, our character is defined by the manner we captain our little boats to enter the peaceful waters, the doldrums, for a time. Sailing in calm waters is not the reality though. The storms lurking over the horizon is. Keep an eye on it as you are cooling your heels after the last battle. And while you drop your knapsack, like a battle weary soldier easing her of the metal armour and weapons, and look at the dreamy destination she has toiled to reach which unfortunately doesn't look the way she expected it. Don't forget this destination which you find short of expectations at least gave you a journey and made you richer by adding positives to the man and woman in you. Irrespective of the destinations, love your journey, for there are no destinations, only journeys. There never was a happy person who didn’t enjoy the journey to have his bumper lot of happiness in one lot at reaching the so called ‘destination’.

Braving the stormy patch and keeping an eye on the next one is the formula to become a successful caption of your life. So simply be a journeyman or journeywoman. Quite ironically the destination is just being there on the path, simply journeying. Just look into the past and remember all who have died and try to recall how many reached the so called destination. The only fixed destination is death which is the most uncertain event (in term of its time of occurrence) for all of us. There is no such thing as ‘life’, the hard-fixed noun. All we have is a sweet-sour poultice ‘living’, the verb, the activity, the process, the journey. So do your deed, make your run, have your shots at your so called goals and the process of doing itself is your reward. Beyond that any idea of rewards and destinations is just like mirage in the deserts.

The Big Bang was a poetic moment

Without the seed of poetry there won't be any prose. Just like without the tiny seed there won’t be a tree. The canopy, the full foliage of the tree is just an extension of the dream lying with its realistic potential inside the small seed. The elaborate network of trunks, branches, twigs, flowers, fruits and leaves is nothing but a commentary on the small poetic seed. So all ye wannabe writers, nurture the poet in you, who understands the value of pause in life, who moves slowly to watch everything, sight and smell everything. Whose senses are open to the inclusive interplay of wonderful harmonies of the supreme song, the universe, the one song. Brushstrokes of poetry softly touch the soul without disrupting its restful muse and bring out the nuggets of love, compassion, harmony and peace. If you are a poet by nature then you have the potential to be anything because all these elaborate extensions of your life, your dreams, your professional and personal goals, your milestones, the world around you, all these and more are nothing but a reflection of that poetic pure seed. Being poetic is being the master of all the best-ever possible emotions as a human being. Poetry is the common soul of all art forms. It is impossible to visualize an unpoetic artist. Poetry is the womb that mothers all that has ever been loved and appreciated by the man and the nature. To be poetic is to love. You taste godliness by being poetic. The mankind has pictured heaven just as a huge poetic dream. All the myths, gods and goddesses are marvelous poet philosophers and poet soldiers. So learn to be a poet.  Love yourself as a poet.

Double standards

Just waiting for the champions of Islam to speak against China. If they don't do it, then their selective fusillade against certain countries gets exposed. One thing is sure: it's never about religion, as most of the people believe, but basically about selfish geo-strategic reasons in turning countries against each other, or bring them together. From religious point of view, Pakistan should be China's biggest enemy, given mass atrocities on the Muslims in China. But they are the best of buddies. Are the Muslim Uighurs lee Muslims? It has to be clarified by the loud-mouthed champions of Islam. In the rest of the world they stoutly espouse the Muslim cause. So why this silence on Uighur Muslims in China? Or Chinese Yuans stuffed in your croaking throats have silenced you? Pakistan has been pouring all its collective energy as a nation into the Indian side of Kashmir, justifying its terrorist activities basically on the grounds of 'Islam in danger in Kashmir; philosophy. From the same religious benchmark, it should never see eye to eye with China. So it gets proved. Need more proof? By the way, go to Kashmir in India, you will be surprised to note that despite the violence and counter violence of decades, not even a single aspect of the religious life of Muslims has been affected in the state.   

Silence of Pakistan, Turkey on Chinese repression of Uighur Muslims outrageous

The sleeping beauty on jasmine leaves

RIP Lime Swallowtail! A hearse of jasmine leaves and sadabahar flowers. You still  look full of flying life, as if ready to take off any moment. You had your colourful days, flowers, nectar, airy swirls, rainbow days.
Quitely you landed on the tarmac of mortality, and your little ounce of spirit flies and takes off to the the highest station to be one with the primordial spirit. From limited to the unlimited. From here to everywhere. From these few colours to all the colours of paradise. From now to forever. From this beautiful pattern and design on your wings to the primal self evolving pattern of nature.

The tree in your yard is as alive as your family members and more

There are more prominent complexities in nature than man-made systems. Read this seminal work and you will scientifically understand why a tree is as alive as human beings. It's purely research based, not some esoteric mystical talk. You will learn how life is as good, valued and important at all levels in nature. It will bust your misconceptions that life is human centric only. Read it to know your real place in the scheme of natural things. After reading it your next visit to the forest will give you unimaginable perspectives. You will feel more of a humane being. Well, it's strictly for your benefit only.

"In 'The Hidden Life of Trees', Peter Wohlleben shares his deep love of woods and forests and explains the amazing processes of life, death and regeneration he has observed in the woodland and the amazing scientific mechanisms behind these wonders, of which we are blissfully unaware. Much like human families, tree parents live together with their children, communicate with them and support them as they grow, sharing nutrients with those who are sick or struggling and creating an ecosystem that mitigates the impact of extremes of heat and cold for the whole group. As a result of such interactions, trees in a family or community are protected and can live to be very old. In contrast, solitary trees, like street kids, have a tough time of it and in most cases die much earlier than those in a group.
Drawing on groundbreaking new discoveries, Wohlleben presents the science behind the secret and previously unknown life of trees and their communication abilities, he describes how these discoveries have informed his own practices in the forest around him. As he says, a happy forest is a healthy forest and he believes that eco-friendly practices not only are economically sustainable but also benefit the health of our planet and the mental and physical health of all who live on Earth."

Love spiced with curry leaves

Love, love, love on the small Kari patta (curry leaves) tree. The tree with aromatic leaflets adds a delicious aroma to various curries. It adds taste to the precious moments of this tiny bird couple, a cute pair of Oriental white eye.

In the afternoon I spray water on the small tree, and they usually come and take a rubbing bath against wet leaves, prancing around, twitching their square tails, flapping their greenish yellow coats. Then they peck and cuddle each other with their slender, pointed, slightly curved bills. Love is never enough. They raise their little heads in supreme abandonment, while the partner is busy cuddling in the fur with its beak. Goosebumps, all pleasing and tinkling!

Let there be wars, hate, jealousy and bigger human issues around. Here they are, etching out a tiny, colourful love tale, with small dreams of a nest in their eyes which have a beautiful white ring around them. They really love this afternoon bathing by the way. I have to spray water so that they don't miss it. There are more important things to attend to as well. After the lovey dovey moments, they hunt gregariously among the foliage for insects and take sips of nectar from the overblooming sadabahar flowers around. And of course in between are their softly jingling conversational notes, possibly taking birdie jibes at human follies of wasting time and energy in unnecessary hassles, while all that is needed is just to be in league with mother nature and uncountable happiness showers by default, as a rule of nature.

Universe: The one song

Look at your body and think, whether it exists in abstraction. It doesn't. This ecosystem is your extended body. Then earth is this ecosystem's extended body. Solar system is earth's extended body. The Milky way is solar system's extended body. Supergalaxy is Milky way's extended body, and so on so forth. Now can you guess what is the meaning of "universe"? It is "one song". If you still didn't get it, no need to waste time, carry on like before, but don't forget to smile and have fun. This is just one harmonious, ever evolving song to which you can definitely add your melody and composition by being in tune with natural laws. Closely watch nature. You will see the miracles happening with such magical effortlessness that they appear more mundane than even the simple task of you lifting your hand. And one more thing, like you see around, it's nothing but dynamic exchange and transformation of energy and matter, your own purposes in life always fall short of the universal will unless you link them to the causes beyond your own self. So while you strive to be happy and successful, try to do it in a way that it is harmonious with the same desires of not just human beings but all of ecosystem. Even a genuine prayer for someone will do. Enlightenment doesn't mean skies will shower flowers and earth will part and you will get a halo around your head. It happens when you become commonest of the common and see you in the natural scheme around. 

The best bridge between science and spirituality

The strongest bridge ever built to connect Eastern mysticism and Western science. The best digestible concoction prepared by mixing the two apparently contradictory, antipodal substances. Eat this porridge, walk on this bridge and you will realise there is absolutely no difference between spirituality and science. A must read for all educated people out there.

The bulb of life on an electric bulb holder

Well, this bulb holder was lying idle for too long, till it got the attention of natural intelligence. A mud fort in the making. Hope it will cherish the bulbuous fluid in eggs that will sprout the light of life. A wire tailed swallow pair is busy making their mud nest. They pick up mud from rain puddles and deposit it layer by layer, slowly mixing their saliva and droppings in the mixture. During the breeding season their glands have extra salivation equipping them with a suitable adhesive. This is what I call environment friendly birdie cement. My mother has a problem though. She finds it disturbing because at this stage it appears a mud sling on the painted wall. I have convinced her that it will be a very nice, decorative wall hanging once it's completed. Best of luck beautiful birds. They have very bright colours of metallic blue and white.

Awakening the dead

It was a dry, dead branch at the top of an acacia. But that was before the monsoon touched with watery pout, to kiss and infuse greenery even in an otherwise prickly, irritatingly imposing silhouette of the acacia. Overblown life from the surroundings is creeping into the dead wood. The creeper is handing over its extra greenery by climbing over dead pricks and crown the treetop with a symbol of life. The canopy is getting its leafy top. Wonderful greenish encroachment. The birds though may not be happy because this dead branch at the tree top used to be their favourite sentry point to look around.

Dry branch after leafy donation by the creeper

Dry branch when the monsoons arrived and birds had their bare watchtower 

The seven spiritual laws of success by Deepak Chopra

One seed contains the potential of a whole forest. These 9000 words in this small pocketbook comprise a glimpse of the infinite and its day to day reflection in our lives. Explore your own space and nature within the infinitely dynamic exchange of matter in the singular stream of primordial energy shooting off in countless directions, carrying fixed laws and supported by infallible universal intelligence.

Love notes of a lonely bird

Oriental magpie robin's monsoonal love notes. The long drawn love notes are flying in air to catch the attention of an interested female. The guy is so absorbed in his love search that I reached just 3 feet from it. Only then it realised that there are more important things than love and irritatingly flew away to continue its mate searching song from a nearby tree.

The fort-maker on a rainy day

It's hot and humid, the sun sweltering over rain-lashed earth. There is a well-digger in my yard. Sweating it out since early morning. The sand wasp works more efficiently than a human earth mover. No noise, no pollution. Simply going in and coming in reverse with a sand ball tucked between its snout and the foreleg pair which it uses with the efficiency of hands. Freshly hued damp yellow sand growing up like a tiny mound. 

It's unmindful of me taking a picture from a close quarter. Given its single-minded focus, I wonder I may have a tiny hill and a spring--because water table is very high in rainy season--in my yard. Best of luck well digger. But please don't dig too deep to make a hole for a small snake to fit in.

PS: on further enquiries I find it's a friendly insect... doesn't aggressively bite like bees. Now I see why it's unmindful of my presence so near its sandy altar. It also preys upon mosquitoes and houseflies. So continue bro, lay down a long tunnel for your larvae and then prey upon our common enemies. In full support with you. Cheers!

PSS: in the video it's closing the gates of its fort, for new life, new cycle. While closing the gates, it even took a few breakfasty bites at a couple of ants also. Possibly it had missed breakfast today. After closing the gates it hovered over the mound with the elated buzz of a triumphant US military hawk helicopter. It has left a little depression around the gate and gone for the time. Not to loiter around I m sure. There is something in store in its scheme, which I cannot understand at the time. And I am proven right. It's never chalta hai attitude in nature unlike humans who take shortcuts and apartments and bridges collapse. The sand wasp had gone out to get some preys which it collects nearby under leaves. To keep its hole safe and guarded in its absence, it had put up a temporary earthwork by its opening. Coming back it removes the part time gate and gets into business again. It will lay eggs and leave food there. The larvae will eat, grow big and pop out into the world.

The fort-maker scraping a depression around the freshly dug cave-mouth to close it temporarily during its absence

PSSS: So that turned out to be its modus operandi: closing the fortress and temporarily, leaving an oblong depression around the opening, leaving the scene, and come back again after a couple of hours to start the task again. In the afternoon it rained cats and dogs, a furious rain storm which jolted even the farmers and big trees. After the storm I saw the  site lashed by the rains, the small depression around the opening filled with sand and the sand mound washed away. I thought it was over. In such a stormy blizzard the little insect must have been blown away to a far place, I thought. Or most probably it was even dead. But then the tough taskmaster showed that it was still around despite the storm. The next day I see again the trademark little depression around the hole mouth and gates temporarily shut. Well done!

Back to business after the floods.

Closing the gates of its fort again.

Some sweetly humid moments on a rainy day in the countryside

Life was never greener and more colourful in my small yard. Luxurious green of Harsingar, motia, jasmine, duranta, guava, Kari patta, Tulsi, murva and the ubiquitous sadabahar blooming out of proportion. Well, the rains have been good. Butterflies dart around, flirting with flowers and their mates amid airy swirls. Even the irritatingly prickly and boring keekars are luxurious green like a new bride. There are more birds. Breeding in the safe and overgrown greenery. I could see even a kite hovering in silent, serene majesty, its wings spread out in embracing comfort of the mother nature. Even in the countryside the sight has become a rarity and I cannot remember many during the past decade. So it's a positive sign for the birdie world. There are two couples of Oriental magpie Robins chhrrring around. The bulbul family is still around, improvising new and new calls. The mother bulbul is very possessive of its offspring and entails it all the time. Bee eaters sit silently and swoop suddenly to catch flying insects. One overzealous bee-eater swooped down on a dragonfly and sat on a dry mulberry branch, the prey bigger for its beat, thinking over what to do now. It then started beating the struggling bray on the branch, striking its on both sides by rhythmically moving its neck sideways. It appeared more like bird yoga. The wire-tailed swallow family is often seen with their swift dives and faint chips. There are lots of flying insects. So the young fellows are being fed well. Tiny tailor-bird tweets with best effect among all. A lovelorn male Indian Robin is persistently sending love notes to attract a mate. The other day it was drizzling and the lonely bird kept sitting on a high dry branch in the rain and continued with its pining notes. Well, let's hope lady luck smiles on it soon. The unperturbed stoicism of the dove pair is inspiring to a meditator like me. The babblers and crows are noisy though. The stern looking mynah always appears with an air of aloof, single point focus on her own affairs. Another pair of spotted munias has erected a new nest in Parijat tree's high branches. And the slow pace of life unfolds in its rustic majesty in the countryside.

If the tree is cut, you too will suffer in your science-derived cocoon

There is a system of goodness. The simplest code nature shows is of unified and interdependent co-existence. All things, phenomena, life processes and transformations give and take from the larger system. In simple terms, nothing can exist in isolation in this universe. Our little environment is supported by the earth, the earth is supported by the sun, the sun by larger suns, they in turn by galaxies, and the latter by super-galaxies, and so on and so forth. There is absolutely no such thing as individualism in nature. It’s all a collective behemoth, ever expanding in more and more transformative ways. So how can our very own happiness come from our own limited self, concerning and defined by just our little fights and brawls in the arena of life? We just take fractions of happiness from the bigger pool. Happiness is never complete, or you can say just cannot happen, if it is confined to the limits of the individual self. There are happy families in happy societies and happy individuals in happy families. You simply cannot have happy individuals in an ant-swarm of unhappy society comprising unhappy families. And you cannot have a happy society surrounded by an unhappy ecosystem. You simply cannot. And if you think that the conveniences created science are the modes of happiness, then you are mistaken. These are mere utilities. Utilities are just contributors to happiness like countless other things. You have cars, then you have pollution, and your lungs suffer, simply because trees are suffering. It’s just like everything and everybody is unhappy and suffering in a forest fire. In a flowery luxurious garden, on the other hand, everybody and everything is happy and peaceful. We are happy or unhappy as a collective unit, not individually. Well, this is how it is, if you consider the real substantial meanings of peace and happiness. The rest are simply temporary delusions, nurtured under the mistake of taking some scientific conveniences as the destinations of happiness, which they are not, they are simply some of the means of convenience. So nurture this habit of connecting to the environment around you. The natural environment is the base of our struggle and sustenance. So see the processes of life and learn the art of miraculous interdependence. And come out of this delusion that we humans can be happy and unhappy in isolation in our modern-day scientific cocoons.

Fears are directly proportional to the doubts we have

A sword fighter has a beautiful wife. She is in awe of his reputation and is almost daunted by the force of his persona. She respects him, but love is missing in the secret chamber of her heart. As it happens, she falls in love with somebody outside her marriage. As if that is a small problem, to make it still worse the lover happens to be their servant. Lies and deceit can be hidden, but love has the natural propensity to shine like sun from behind the clouds. It comes to the light. That is its nature. As per social norms, love usually stands out scandalous. The offended husband challenges the servant for a duel, taking it for granted that he will surely kill the illicit lover, thus giving him death and earning more laurels for his swordsmanship as bonus. The deed will not reek of cold-blooded revenge and his motive to kill the servant will lie buried under the fair game of duel. So it is supposed to be a sure death for the poor servant. The sword fighter hides his revenge and anger under the art and craft of his swordsmanship. Most importantly, he is sure of victory, because by the logic of it, how can it be otherwise, pitted as he is against a man who has just picked up the scabbard from his famed walls to clean it. And he being a master swordsman whose reputation chimes across the four corners of the state. The servant is thus sure of his death. He has accepted his fate, death. When you are eying victory, you are also eying safety to yourself from the corner of your eyes. And you have fear also, because without that the sense of victory cannot sustain. With a sense of victory you just cannot be fearless. There is something to fight for and achieve and for that you have to remain alive. This breeds fear. But the servant has accepted death and failure. His acceptance is hundred percent. He has no doubt about it. And when there is no doubt, you become fearless. The swordsman isn’t totally free from fear because his certainty about his victory falls short of the servant’s certainty of his defeat and death. He isn’t as sure of his victory as the servant is of his defeat. So, irrespective of the fighting caliber, the servant is more fearless of the two, simply because he is under less doubt. In his fearlessness he decides to let loose all madness in him before his death. He doesn’t hate the opponent. He isn’t angry. His acceptance of death enables him to give all to life before death. The sword-fighter on the other hand cannot give all in the fight, because he is fighting to save respect, prolong life, take revenge, and all these with further expectations from life. Life itself means fear. The offended husband takes maneuvers as per the art of sword-fighting. In pre-death fearless madness, the lover strikes with sword like he is striking with a stick. To all the conventional strokes of the sword-fighter, he hits back with the most awkward and unorthodox ones. Fearlessness in his eyes creates fear in the opponent’s eyes. The servant kills the master! Why? Because he is sure of his death, and because the master isn’t that sure of his victory! How can he be? He simply cannot. He is fighting to save a lot of things and fighting to save things cannot allow you to be cent-percent fearless.

When ideology turns into a raised slipper, all dialogues are closed

Well, sometimes even saffron robe isn't sufficient to save you from the neo-nationalists...Neo-naionalism is very safe and convenient. Most of the times, the web-patriots are into virtual, bloodless wars--but highly gratifying for ego--on the social media. Sometimes it shows its patriotic face through a mob lynching, which is as safe as a web war. But then you should at least spare an 80-year-old man. Not that I agree with this man's ideology, just like I don't agree to the ideological fervour of those running behind him. Just like parroting patriotic songs on social media doesn't turn a lampoon into a real nationalist, similarly wearing saffron is no guarantee of one's holiness. The man definitely isn't a saint. But then it throws poor light on the BJP supporters to run with slippers after someone who had come to pay homage to the former PM Atal Bihari Bajpayi's mortal remains. To a departed soul, and more importantly to the mortal remains, all that is left behind is just the same.