My Mom is still there to help us!

 

Ma is still around and taking care of us even though she left her body almost two and half years ago. The other day, one of my aunties in our extended family lost her gold earring. Now it’s a catastrophe for a woman to lose her gold ornament. Apart from the economic loss, they take it as a bad omen also. Give her two for her lost gold piece, she but will still be sad and sullen about the lost one. My aunt is a very hardworking woman. She has a set-up routine of household chores like my mother had. Aunty gets up early and her day involves morning walk in the fields around the village, visit to the temple, many rounds around the cattle barn at a distance from the house and the rest of the routine tasks in their sprawling countryside house. Given her large area of movement over the dusty village streets, even to think of pinpointing some specific location where the probability of finding the earring was higher than others seemed a futile exercise. She and the family looked into all nook corners of the house. The temple premises were scanned and so were the streets and paths where she had walked on that day. Much disturbed auntie tried to sleep at night but sleep was nowhere nearby. She was in tension. Around half past three in the morning, she got a short span of sleep and my mother appeared in her dream. Auntie says my mother was seen brooming the streets on the side of the house and the little square falling on the other side of our house. Mother always cleaned the surroundings after cleaning the house. Young women less than half her age won’t even think of cleaning the neighbourhood streets for others to walk. But that’s how mother was. She lived a life that wasn’t strictly chained by mine or your boundaries. Cleaning the street in front of the house, mother said to auntie, ‘Don’t take so much of tension. Now go to sleep peacefully. You will find your gold earring. It’s lying near the platform fronting the street in front of our house. There is a splinter of bamboo near it.’ Well, around eight in the morning auntie recalled the dream and went out to the said place. The earring was found exactly at the place mother had indicated. Just imagine dozens of people had been passing the spot and nobody spotted it. But nothing can miss a mother’s eyes. She is still around, keeping a watch over the proceedings of our follies from a higher dimension.  

The Path Leading to Silence and Solitude

 

Some sweetly humid moments on a rainy day in the countryside can provide more solace than biggest joyrides in concrete jungles. Nature’s bounties guys. Accept the offer. Like I do. It enriches you with observation, understanding, realization and glimpses of the ultimate truth.

There is a mystical silence behind all this little drama. The pathway to that zone of silence is through this amazing thoroughfare. Take your journey through it. You will reach the point of your solitude. There you will see your true self, the real loving self. I for one never miss a chance to allow the sonorous cooing touch the strings of my soul and feel the mystical harmony sizzling through my heart.

Life is never greener and more colorful in my small yard than during the monsoons: 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 can even see a kite hovering in silent, serene majesty, its wings spread out in embracing comfort of 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 pairs of oriental magpie robins chhrrring around. A treepie gives its strangely sweet ululation. A pair of Asian pied starling muses from the electricity line. A white wagtail flicks its tail and gives a sharp preening shriek of ecstasy as it picks up some insect from the ground. A group of bee-eaters dart and free-dive after the flies going footloose in the open skies. A bee-eater sits silently and swoops suddenly to catch a dragonfly. It then sits on a dry mulberry branch, the prey bigger for its beak, thinking over what to do now. It then starts beating the struggling pray on the branch, striking its beak on both sides by rhythmically moving its neck sideways. It appears more like bird yoga.

The bulbul family is still around, improvising newer and newer calls. The mother bulbul is very possessive of its offspring and entails it all the time. The wire-tailed swallow family is often seen with their swift dives and faint chipping sounds. There are lots of flying insects. So the young fellows are being fed well. Tiny tailor-bird tweets with the 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 munia has set up a new nest in the Parijat tree's upper branches.

So the slow pace of life unfolds in its rustic majesty in the countryside. Then to top it all, there are the love notes of the lonely oriental magpie robin. Beautiful symphony of 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 reach just 3 feet from it. Only then it realizes that there are more important things than love and irritatingly flows away to continue its mate-searching song from a nearby tree.

Each moment is precious. Each instant is full of endless possibilities. Come on, try to observe all that is happening in such little moments. You will soon realize the richness of time. You will learn the art of getting the maximum of each single moment without feeling hurried and burdened with the daunting task. A natural effortlessness will seep into your way of doing things. But for all this to happen, you have to open your arms to the little wonders of life. These are the atoms that constitute the bigger dreams around.

The Fort-maker on a Rainy Day

 

Looking at the blisters on your hands as you slog out and feel like carrying the burden of the whole existence? Wait! Everything and everyone from the mightiest to the lowest is entitled to this feeling. We are doing things because rest of others are also busy with the same tons of sweat. Problem is we put too much of pondering over even the smallest of things that must be simply followed in a natural sequence. It saves energy for the pleasant aesthetics of life. Love and consideration are simply flowers in the garden of aesthetic sense.

I see a fort-maker on a rainy day, and all my extra sense of being a tireless worker scampers off. It has all the fundamentals of making a big human fort on the hilltop. Watching it I get to realize how endowed we humans are as a part of society and civilization, where our collective self guarantees so many entitlements and conveniences. A tiny insect on the other hand braves it all alone. It makes me feel protected and pampered. I feel gratitude. And gratitude is the loving buddy of your compassionate self.

Existence weaves the web of creation with endless patience and infinite diligence. Both are same by the way, not contradictory.

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 out in reverse with a sand-ball tucked between its snout and the foreleg pair that it uses with the efficiency of hands. And freshly hued damp yellow sand growing up like a tiny mound. It appears as a hill of its efforts. 

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.

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, dig a long tunnel for your larvae and then prey upon our common enemies. In full support with you! Cheers!

Now I see it closing the gates of its fort, for new life, new cycle. While closing the gates, it takes a few breakfasty bites at a couple of ants also. Possibly it has missed breakfast today. After closing the gates, it hovers over the mound with the elated buzz of a triumphant US military hawk helicopter. The fort-maker then scraps a depression around the freshly dug cave-mouth to close it temporarily. Possibly it is meant to, I am not sure, guard the site during its absence. It is then gone for the time. Not to loiter around, I am sure. There is something in store in its scheme, which I cannot understand at the moment.

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 went out to get some preys that it collects nearby under the windfallen leaves. To keep its hole safe and guarded in its absence, it puts 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.

So that turns out to be its modus operandi: closing the fortress temporarily, digging 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 rains cats and dogs. A furious rainstorm jolts even robust farmers and big trees. After the storm I see the site lashed by rains, the small depression around the opening filled with sand and the sand mound washed away. I think it is over. In such a stormy blizzard, the little insect must have been blown away to a far place, I guess. Or most probably it is even dead.

However, the tough taskmaster shows that it is still around despite the storm. Back to business after the floods! The next day, I see again the trademark little depression around the hole’s mouth and gates temporarily shut. Well done! You teach me a big lesson in perseverance. I feel humble, and feel that everyone out there is doing his/her duties. A stone is lifted off my heart. It feels light. It then soars high to draw big swigs of happiness and contentment.

Isn’t everything around perspiring to pursue its destiny? So don’t feel burdened unnecessarily because that’s how things are all around.  

Love Spiced with Curry Leaves

 

Sigmund Freud: “We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love.”

A bit scary warning by the great reader of mind! Isn’t it?

Well, suffering and love happen to be defined almost synonymously. Most often heartbreaks, anxiety, depression and tears are the recurring speed bumps on the so called love-road. These appear inevitable because the way love has been defined in human relationships, it draws its sustenance from our needs, to fill up our vacuums, by taking something from the other. It's more of dependence, and less of sharing.

We try to love people in the same way we like our things. Suppose you have a chair in your room. Now you have every right to keep your permanent expectations from it because it cannot move of its own will. You can position it at the place of your liking and expect it to be there till you change your mind. Unfortunately, this very expectation crosses over from the lifeless to the sentient beings around. But then the living beings have their free will, they move, they change, they evolve. This change appears a betrayal against the fixed pole of our expectations. No wonder we feel pain.

We just presume relationships to guarantee love. We try and exclude others from the shower of our caring selves, taking it to be a duty for the exclusive people in our life, who are in turn duty-bound to not only reciprocate but return it with full interest. No wonder, we develop sharp edges to our persona in the effort. It hurts as much others as it does to our own selves.

There is a silent language of love and care in nature. Learn from it. It will broaden the horizons for you to spread yourself. And mind you, more space gives freedom only. It opens you up. The seed of compassion in you needs certain nurturing. It’s a matter of some practice. Learn from nature. Observe the love tales going on unsung around.

For example, I enjoy the love spiced with curry leaves.

Love is 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 further adds taste to the precious moments of this tiny bird couple, a cute pair of oriental white eye, tiny, 8-9 cm, olive green birds with a distinct white eye-ring and yellowish underparts.

They pollinate flowers as they visit for insects, make a soft nasal cheer and love to bathe in dew and water on the leaves. What a beautiful summary of the feathered life! If we cannot spot godliness in such things, I have doubts about we getting it in mammoth size and forms.

In the afternoons, 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 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, colorful love tale, with small dreams of a nest in their beautiful white-ringed eyes. 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 as well. After the lovey-dovey moments, they hunt gregariously among the foliage for insects and take sips of nectar from the over-blooming 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 get uncountable showers of happiness by default, as a rule of nature.

Play your Part on the Small Stage of Nature

 

In the pursuit of greater glories and bigger goals, we often fall faceward, hitting our nose in the dust. We have beautiful small eyes. They are not meant to capture the biggest shots reaching eternity. There are little points in nature possessing the summaries of the real meanings of life. Keep yourself open to such great learning provided by the unassuming teachress.

A huge megamall under construction will leave you with a sooty awe, making you feel trivial. The self-emerging pattern of nature through a 5-gram super-worker, on the other hand, will teach you the basics of building, in a charming, aesthetic way. It will not trivialize you. You will retain your smile as you muse over the tiny miracle. Like I do.

I have seen mammoth buildings under construction and small nests in making. Believe me basics are just the same. It’s merely piecing together the material in a diligent way.

I see a new home in making, the fabulous work of a small pair of greenish white-eyed wonder. A tiny hammock fixed to jasmine leaves. It’s a perfect mix of natural and human merchandise involving thin strands of fiber, cobwebs, threads, grass and rootlets. The olive-backed sunbirds succeeded in a coup, in that I could not spot the nest, but not this one. I have spotted ha ha.

Don't you think there is a supreme consciousness, sort of cosmic intelligence, which pervades across species and phenomena all over the universe, driving all of us knowing unknowing to the actualization of little, little milestones in the river that life is?

The owners are unbelievably agile and dart off at bullet speed, cocking snook at my amateur efforts to have them as models for my funny photography. So I give in. Also their tweets from a neighboring tree have started to sound abusive. Feeling a Gatecrasher, I just take my nose out of their affair. Anyway, best of luck you little oriental white eyes!

The story then moves on to end on a tragic note. These are mere happenings in the lap of Mother Nature. It’s we who define them as agonies or ecstasies as per our calculations. Nature has counter points, otherwise the game of creation will fall off its track.

Oriental white eye is just 10 cm long, square-tailed, greenish bird with a significant white ring around the eyes. The nest has been firmly glued like a tiny hammock cup, joining three broad leaves, making a cozy home of fibers. The lady is seen sitting most of the time. Its white ringed eye visible under the leaf canopy. All seems well. It appears too small a world to be noticed by predators. With their slender pointed bills, they flit across the branches to enjoy flower nectar, guavas and tiny ants. In league with the song of life, they make feeble jingling notes to add to the ultimate melody.

Then arrives the counter point, Greater Coucal, the clumsy, black bird with chestnut wings. I hear its deeply resonant coop coop coop coop in the morning. It is loitering around in the cluster of trees where our Bulbuls have their little one to be trained for bigger flights. I don't think it is catchable anymore.

Coucal steals eggs and feeds on lizards and tiny mice. It is very clumsily sticky on the ground. I chase it away. It flows away very unwillingly. God knows how it has spotted the tiny cup of the white eye. So there it is again in the afternoon. I hear the flapping of feathers and see it sneaking out like an expert thief. The tiny parents just give very feeble, jingling notes that hardly escape out of the shrub. I check the tiny cup nest. It is empty and feel very sad for the little creatures.

Greed is bad. After a couple of hours, I hear the panicked noted of the little birds and go out to see the greedy thief stuck to the leaves poking into the cup for more. It is so engrossed that it doesn’t mind me approaching at all. Well it's truly lousy. A thief has to be watchful. The height is just at a suitable range with my raised hand. Well, I have all the chance to kill it in one big swipe. But then you can not engage with a bird at your own human level. That isn't fair, even if it has committed a crime. To Mother Nature it's no crime. And I don’t want to be a murderer. So I use only that much force that would make it really painful for a bird of that size, without permanent disability. So here I go. It falls down, and takes to airs with a seriously painful shriek.

Well, the only take away of my strike can be that it may not dare to come again to poke into the nest of spotted munia just above on the tree. I hope so. I expect him to learn a lesson or two. I know I shouldn't interfere in the scheme of nature. But then these birds are my friends on the grounds that my courtyard has the trees that they own on account of their nests, so I use my rights to interfere.

All in all, it sets a small stage where I can engage in a harmless way. Given our over-greedy, predatory approach to life, there is hardly anything in our endeavors that doesn’t border on excesses against nature. So I really cherish such mild engagements. It defangs me of my villainy as a modern human being. Definitely it feels good.

Our hearts need nourishment. We have all been pumping iron in the mind. But then our sensitivities get starved. We miss being humane. Seriously we do. So guys play your part in such tiny plays of nature. Beyond betrayals, hate and jealousies, it will bring a smile on your lips. And long before you realize, you become a considerate and kind human being. A great reward in its own way, I tell you.