The ultimate cocoon of the penultimate camouflage caterpillar

Case moth, a camouflage caterpillar, on its leaf eating sortie on my guava. This chap makes a silken cocoon around it and attaches tiny twigs around it. And then moves like a little cylindrical wagon of firewood. Amazing. But of course poor leaves have a different tale to tell. Well, he should not be deprived of such hardworked breakfast, lunch, brunch and dinner all put on the same plate. Babblers though happen to have this feaster on their own lunch table. The cantankerous kings of the quarrelsome birdie world, make lot of noise while undoing the protective wood wagon and gather their own food from something which was gathering from someone else. So now the case moth has a sorry tale to tell. Ask the babbler. It definitely will have many of the same genre to tell. Well, this sad touch in the story is simply our mental projection created relatively to a so called happy touch. Beyond our mental  projections, there are simply stories in nature, cyclically interweaving their threads to make one singular entity, the ultimate case moth, the final camouflage...

A glimpse of the ultimate truth

A glimpse of the ultimate truth at dusk in my village:
On the infinite canvas in the sky, He, the ever-creative artist, paints one mural after the other. Gives a fleeting vision of the ultimate truth. Of transience. Of ever transforming shades. The creator doesn't hold onto the fleeting shades. He allows these to dissolve into newer and newer frescoes.
PS: Ravinder bhai has provided a higher dimension to my emotion through his translation. So cannot help sharing it on the main post with much thanks to him. He is rapidly evolving on the path of self realisation. May almighty allow him to stand face to face with the ultimate truth. Here goes the translation:
वह, एक रचनात्मक कलाकार के रूप में, आकाश के अनंत चित्र-फ़लक पर , एक के बाद एक चित्र बनाता है। एक अंतिम सच्चाई के रूप में क्षणभंगूर दृश्य देता है । क्षणिक भंगुरता का  । कभी रूपांतरित होते हुये रंगों का । विधाता इस लगातार बदलते क्षणिक रंगों को रोकता नहीं है । वह तो  इस घुलते हुये नए से नए बनते भीतिचित्रों की अनुमति प्रदान करता रहता है -----आभार सहित प्रोफेसर रविन्द्र कुमार

Cancered mother and the unconcerned son

Cancered mother and the unconcerned son

Not the end of July yet and we have already consumed the annual budget of natural resources. It means whatever was supposed to be used as per our needs in a whole year has been chucked out in less than seven months. So the remaining five monts will bear testimony to our greed when we will rape natural resources. Unchecked growth of cells in a physical body leads to cancer. Unchecked growth of modern civilization has led to cancer and tumors in mother earth. It's a dying planet, eh!

http://geopoliticsofenvironment.com/2018/08/02/earth-overshoot-day-and-our-environment-real-time/

The Itchy-tailed Intruder

Chirpy protests against unsolicited visit. The bully, a male indian Robin with rusty red rump and its itchy tail flicking, arrives. Probably it has not so fair intentions, otherwise why would the hosts raise such a storm of choicest abuses against the intruder. The tailorbird pair, half the size of the intruder, can fight--verbally of course--with more tenacity than even the most cantankerous aunty in your neighborhood. Their shrill notes have sharp talons man. What proficiency in protesting! Well, they have a right to so it. After all, they own this tree under the birdie constitution. They have their nest sewen up among three leaves. So of course the tree belongs to them. Even I, whose courtyard happens to keep rooting of the tree, have surrendered my rights of ownership after their vehement lung power in protest against any effort to prune even those branches which are well away from their little nest and are of inconvenience to me. But then I can't match their quarrelsome capacity, so I have resigned myself to the fate of my face and head getting some brush against the pinchy caressing of the tree. What to do? They own it completely as long as they have their family here. Spotted Munia also have their grassy globular nest on a nearby branch. They also try to contribute to the protest, but cute chocolate brown little beauties having chess pattern in their breast have such feeble jingling notes that you can't even make out their contribution to the musical protest. It's luke their sitar notes get lost into the humungous buttock busting notes of biggest drums in the loudest discotheque in the baddest part of the world. Anyway they also protest and click from branch to branch. It pays to have quarrelsome neighbours sometimes. Isn't it? So the bully was intimated. He flew away with a jarring note of typical chhhrrr accompanied by ever-flicking tail. These four residents of the small Parijat tree also throw explitives on the baddy squirrel who tries to get away with eggs. But not as long as these noisy defenders are there. Agreed that they can't physically chase the fur-lined snouty nuisance, but their verbal fight draws my attention sometimes and I go to add to the defending army. The very same ageold instinct to be with the underdogs! By the way sometimes even a pair of purple sunbirds, the male's metallic blue sheen looking over the mundane dull colours of the female, joins the protests. A par of oriental white eye, their notes hardly distinct among the commotion. But they make bigger statements with their beatiful white-ringed eyes and flit with their square tails from branch to branch. Once in a while even the most garrulous babblers also join the protesting chorus, thinking there must be a bigger common enemy to all, for example a snake. However, when they find that these tiny birds are overhyping the thread over almost a non-issue, they just take off angrily. But man at least u expect a bit of reciprocation for my help. The other day I was removing some wild growth in a corner away from the tree and there were these tailor birds again throwing choicest abuses in their birdie language. I even felt irritated. I have even surrendered my right to the tree and now you don't want me to touch anything in the whole yard, I whispered to myself. So now I am open to the idea that they have at least equal right over the courtyard also. What to do? These tiny, shrill loudspeakers can definitely send down jarring notes when they are angry!

PS: Freshly minted Tailorbird hatchling....so it has been a success. She looks funny, makes delicate cheeu cheeu sounds and is learning the first lessons in flitting and flying in the safety of little cluster of small trees.

Kakistocracy

Kakistocracy is defined as ‘a form of government in which the least qualified or most unprincipled individuals are in power.’ It is summarized as the ‘government by the worst elements in the society.’ Isn’t it true generally? I mean leave apart a few exceptions, some luminaries who retained their souls while still on the seat of power, then you see all rulers and governments Kakistocratic in nature. Exceptions prove the rules only, by the way.

The word has Greek origins. ‘Kakos’ means ‘bad’, and its superlative form ‘kakistos’ means ‘as bad as it can possibly get’. Well, I think only its superlative form qualifies one to be a serious contender. The lesser forms can hardly get you the post of even village head even in the most democratic form of governance. No wonder, those who deem themselves to be ‘good’ start shivering at the name of the word ‘politics’. Or is it that they put up a varnish of ethics, morality, principles and humanism to hide their inherent weakness whose shackles they cannot break to compete in the race for the highest stakes where one’s ambition and concurrent ego meets the best solace.  

Well, before we get into any argument about this system is better than that, or this ruler superior than that one, let’s just clear the basic concept of ‘ruling’ the operational part of hunger for power. To be in charge of something bestows ‘power’. The latter provides morsels of food to an ambition to grow out of one’s skin and become the destiny-makers of many lesser mortals, the mere meekly subjects. It’s very rarely about being ‘good’ and jumping into the fray with a soul-driven guiding light of altruism, to bring good to the masses. If you are fighting such a bloody battle, how will you even think of poor millions while your own gums are bleeding due to the ever-punching rascally opponents? In a fight how can one remain a saint? And if someone does, then my salutes. There have been a few by the way. But their negligible number proves the point.

It’s primarily about beating the ambitious, power-hungry horde running after the coveted seat. Are there decent chances of someone ‘good’ person, who—even if given a jackpot surprise of somehow getting to the top of ladder of ambition—stands out as unqualified and weak participant in the game later on, beating the rampaging bulls. If not altogether impossible, there is literally non-existent chance of someone really ‘good’ toppling the stage the perch on the throne. Even after reaching there, how will a decent ass keep glued to the seat if outright hounds are pulling from all direction to dethrone the decent ass.  

Leave apart a few dozen of Abraham Lincolns and Nelson Mandelas, out of thousands and thousands of rulers across all genres of ruling class, starting from unquestioned aristocrats, despots, communist dictators to the modern-day decent democratic representatives, you have trainloads of extra-smart guys who prevailed over, fuelled by a relentless ambition to yield power, the lesser competitors to occupy the throne.

No wonder, in Indian democracy, or for that matter anywhere else in the world, we have the majority of MLAs and MPs having criminal backgrounds. It needs a lot of ‘hard’ will to get into the corridor of power, man. And the pack leader has to be the strongest. When did nature decide on good or bad? Isn’t it all about the strongest takes away the trophy in all species? Can it be different in case of humans who are mere one of the species in nature? It’s basically about those who can make and those who cannot. It doesn’t change the law of neutral existence if those who cannot make it pacify their defeat under the principles of ‘good’ and ‘bad’. Ethics are very nice pills to cure the stomach pain of being left out.

In the power game to emerge a ruler, the strength is defined by an ability to make a mincemeat of the opponent. And where such bloody fights are perpetually going on day in and day out, the little wasps of so called ‘goodness’ hardly stand any chance. Or do they?

Doesn’t it mean that every system of governance, ranging from absolute dictatorship to democracy, is Kakistocratic in nature? Just the variance of degree of Kakistocracy in one over the other, like in communist dictatorship it is direct in the face type and indirect, subtle, scheming and tricky in democracy, doesn’t make one completely into it and the other free of it. You have a Hitler, Lenin or Changez Khan in one set of bloody, gory Kakistrocracy. But then you may have--actually we have all around--monsters safely hidden under starched white clothing bearing beneficent smiles—a better-looking variant of the power-hungry super-species--holding their talons under the garb in the softer variant of yielding power like in democracy.  

Best of luck to you all who don’t qualify to be a part of the group! Only superior forces, beyond terrestrial domain, can help you!