The sad love story of a lonely hoopoe

Insistent, persistent, adamant and brave. The lonely Romeo. Apart from my mind's own inconsequential blabbering with its own self, I hear this hoopoe's mate song almost with the frequency of thoughts in mind. He is relentless. Going on and on for the last two weeks. Hope he hasn't forgotten to eat in his mad song of love to attarct some female of the species. Hoopoes are almost gone from the area. Where is wood, so where will they do their master carpentry in tree trunks. There are hardly any flocks left. It's a lonely bird who wants to keep his species alive at any cost. Hidden in the foliage of this acacia he is busy with love song in this heat. The song of love which may reach some stray female  to allow the natural chemistry to take place and delay their tragic story of extinction from the area for some more time. It's lyrical, pining uuup, uuup, uuup is riding the dusty air of wheat harvesting season. They are hardly seen in this part. In fact I had forgotten its sound. Then its lovely sad notes reached me in meditation and some long asleep memory drew a picture of hoopoe in the blank vastness reminding me of those childhood days when we were lucky to see them going tonk tonk on big tree trunks. So that's how the tragic stories of bird extinction unfolding. But these are not just the desperate love notes of a lonely bird. These are the sad stories told by the last of their generation here in this part. Let's hope some lonely lady hoopoe comes to hear these mate-finding notes.
Contrary to weeks long day in and day out songs of love by this lonely bird, humans are having gala time. Bred as we have with the tenacity of antswarms. So there is hardly any fight. Mates available. People pick up mates with the drop of a hat. Relationships last in weeks because there are humans and humans around. Spoilt for choice are we humans. Instragram, dating sites, Facebook, twitter everything is saturated with choice for a mate fling. People hardly come to feel the depth of love. It's short version twenty twenty of love. Hit sixes and fours, grab your trophy and start new innings.
Isn't it ironical that only animals and birds appear to carry the message of love these days. This hoopoe for example. Can somebody show this type of lyrical dedication for weeks in all this heat. Well, it makes me sad and happy at the same time. Sad because love seems to have vanished from the world of humans. Happy that I am at least lucky to see and hear these love tales in nature.

Thirsty honeybees in flowerless land

Scorching heat... spring died...flowers withered. But life has to continue till flowers bloom once again. With temperature around 40 and flowers gone, these honeybees look like desert travellers busy around an oasis. Water level in the tiny vessel was low, so many of them slipped down the edges while attempting to take tiny swigs of water. One can use love, care and help in any corner of the world. It polishes the aesthetics of humanity. A little practice to be more human. Goodness is qualitative in nature. It doesn't need quantity to get certified as a good deed. Main thing is one's emotion. So here I take my quantum jump in evolution by filling the bucket to the brim so that these little thirsty visitors safely perch on the upper edge and drink water without risking their lives. They get water, I become more aware of the godliness in me. Profit both ways. Vaah, what a fruitful day!

The death of a moth

The Moth's last sigh. It moves today like it fluttered yesterday. The only difference is that yesterday its littlest ounce of consciousness was put inside this tiny miligram of a shape. Today but that ounce of consciousness has spread to become part of everything. The matter now moves to the force of everything around. Transition from life to matter. Here flutters the moth corpse to free wind. Yesterday exactly at this time I saw it crawling on the floor. Little did I realise that it was on its death bed. Now it becomes part of everything to take its consciousness at this frequency on the further march of evolution of consciousness just like species have evolved at the level of biology, at the level of matter. Matter and consciousness both evolve. There are parallels. We just need to be aware of it. And it becomes a very much realisable process.

Last nail in the coffin of scrub forest in Haryana

SC directive to Haryana Govt

Well Haryana is a small state. But the fact that it has the lowest forest cover in the country at 3.59% makes it really sound miserable. But as a silverlining to the hopes of development enthusiasts, it surrounds Delhi NCR and that is where the planners find scope of development. Politicians in India basically keep their financial spines sound primarily by managing real estate, mining and quarrying through their cronies. Haryana is no exception. With Delhi NCR getting over-bloated, Haryana politicians have always eyed construction scope in Guruguram and Faridabad. Nothing wrong with that. But the simple fact that this area covers Aravali scrub land, which is the last bulwark against total desertification of Delhi NCR, makes it really worrisome, especially given the fact that Delhi already is an intolerable torture chamber for residents due to pollution. 
Haryana govts, despite the SC directive of 1996, have not notified forest land in its territory falling in the NCR. They eye the mullah by keeping a scope for construction by clearing the semi-wilderness of the scrub forest in the area. Already a lot of it has been destroyed through illegal mining. The recent Haryana govt legislation allows the illegality to be carried out in open which till now has been carried out through dubious means. It also leaves the heavenly slice of little patch of Shivalik hills in Panchkula, having exotic species of trees and birds, for quarrying and hotel industry. Greed for money has no softer consideration for mother nature. I wonder will the reprimand by the Supreme Court be sufficient to stop Haryana politicians from raping the last remnants of scrub forest in the state?     

Joseph K. and Me

"if you have the right eye for these things, you can see that the accused men are often attractive. It's a remarkable phenomenon, almost a natural law.... accused men are always the most attractive." __Trial by Franz Kafka.

Well, at long last I find reason for my peculiar attractiveness. Ha ha. I also stand accused by state vigilance commission under Hooda govt. My crime. Actually I had cracked Haryana PCS to get selected as a subdivision magistrate. Hooda got gastric ulcer over my tiny feat. So there he orders an inquiry. They scanned my answer sheets. Lo, there they found the proof of my crime. It was an expert catch. In one of the answers, the evaluator had changed marking from 2 to 4 with his initials authenticating the change of mind. Now 15 years down the line, having lost the fruit of my 10 years of study, I still wonder how come I stand accused for evaluator's change of mind, and especially when this adding of 2 marks doesn't effect my selection in any way because even with 2 marks less I still get into the selection list. So guys, there starts the Trial protagonist Joseph K. type futile struggle. Judges won't understand the rocket science. But then my take away is Kafka's accused protagonist type attractiveness..and I like it. And equipped with my accused attractiveness, I sometimes ponder over to find out reasons how come I got only 37% marks in IAS interview even after scoring 54% in mains written because with this type of score one can easily be among the toppers. And I also remember how come one PCS BOARD gave me only 36% in interview after I had scored 55% in written mains which again is a top-worthy score. So guys here I stand like Joseph K when he was executed with final words on his lips, "like a dog!"...heee heee. Am I that bad, I sometimes think. Or to rephrase, am I too good for the system? This second option gives more solace, because it provides a sort of self-driven poetic justice. Well, to survive in this world one has to have grey shades. Not that I don't have mine. Possibly they couldn't spot it. In any case, system's loss, not mine. Hee heee. Again I derive sadistic pleasure with this thought.