When there are many birds in the sky!

 The first half of November is supposed to be the best. The winter is opening like a soft bud. The birds sing at their best. It proves it’s the best part of season. A beautiful, fluid mix of balmy cold and warmth. But we have turned it the worst. The metallic haze and toxic smog grips the skies like the steely talons of an eagle strung over the soft fur of a rabbit. The eyes burn. Throats ache. The sip of life, the air, turns a slow dose of death. The north Indian planes look like a huge prison. The sun looks pale and sick-faced as it peeks weakly over the polluted planet. But then even on such a sickly gloomy morning there are thousands of swallows flying in the sky. So many of them! With so many birds, it seems as if everything will be all right. The sky seems to bless the earth through these freely flying birds. It’s the time to plant more trees and flowers. It’s the time to walk a bit slower and do something that will leave the planet worth staying for the coming generation.

Slow down please!

 Pick up a dry leaf and take out the carpenter ant that has got into the toilet seat. I sometimes rescue even house flies and mosquitoes. They will be a nuisance, one may say. But the chance to be a savior is too big a reward for such deterrent considerations. I try to keep my foot on a hold as a beetle crosses, or a skink crawls away, or a frog hops away. I know a tread of caution is for my own benefit. It will save me from a fall sometime in future. If you learn to not walk over insects and beetles on the way, you will surely escape the thorns and potholes of life that come your way. If you can rescue an insect or bug of your dislike from a basket, basin or drain, you are prepared to forgive people. These tiny acts of salvage hone the spirit of sympathy, love and care in you. They blunt the edge of apathy and neglect that sees us turning a blind eye to so many unbecoming things around us, where we can bring a positive change without creating too much turbulence in our lives. It’s better to have a little bit of time to stop and take out a drowning beetle. If not for this, you will hardly try to save a drowning man in future. Goodness is a habit. It can be practiced. The vast workshop of life has so many tiny tables for us to carry out our little experiments. To me rescuing an elephant and saving an ant is more or less the same. That particular savior emotion is the main thing. So watch your step and avoid crushing insects unnecessarily. You gain a lot from it. You learn to be careful and responsible. Most of the times when we think we are helping others, we are in fact helping our own selves.

The busy ant

 Hasn't creation got an instinct for carrying burden ingrained very deeply in its fabric? There is an everlasting pull for expansion and more complexity. How can we avoid complexity of life then? Going against the primal instinct is a sort of reverse engineering. This is the evolutionary challenge. A kind of lavitation instead of gravitation. Fording the river. The ultimate salvation. The cessation of the urge to pull the burden and still be joyful. A state where every burden transforms into bliss. Pull your burden little lady. But don't forget to rest under the shade of the fragrant roses on the way. They are as meaningful as the weight you pull. And the journey turns joyful if you pause and greet the flowers on the way. And don't forget to acknowledge the presence of thorns on the path as well. Just be careful of them as they have their meaning also. They are there to help you watch your step and avoid a fatal fall. A bit of pinch now and then serves it purpose because it maybe avoids a fatal fall in the long run.

The tale of Cheesy Papa

 A powder blue beauty is seen in the washbasin. A woodlouse, a dweller of old, rotten woods. Maybe it got its adventure too far and landed into the basin. Now it's a fun game, go up and slump down again. Maybe they take their struggles as easily as feasting and fun. So here it goes with its business. I take a pic and since it's a patient model for the shoot, it gets its reward. It gets rescued on a dry leaf and I leave it near a pile of dead wood. It's a very interesting little bug. Look at the range of its names: Granny grey in Wales, boat-builder in Newfoundland, Butcher boy in Australia, Carpenter in Labrador, Charlie pig in Norfolk, Cheesy Lou, Cheesy papa, Cheesy pig, Daddy grampher, Dandy postman, Fat pigs, Grumper pig, Granny grunter and scores of more interesting names. In every English county it has a different name. It can be a good pet for buggy parents. And is, most importantly, harmless for humans as it doesn't spread diseases. So raise a brood and give them as many names as your funny creativity allows you because they take name-calling very easily and in good spirits.

An invitation for laziness

 The hare may have its huffing and puffing competitiveness. But it lives very anxiously. A tortoise, on the other hand, goes on its journey that isn't defined in terms of mileage and distances. It's both joy and motion both at the same time. Welcome to the snaily pace of the tortoise world! Here you acknowledge the smile of a wayside wild flower and greet the lone beetle on its journey.