Girinika: God bless you with the gift of a cow

"...large animals, particularly cows, are aware of their impending slaughter well before it happens. Consequently, they experience high stress levels, which generate a tremendous amount of acidic content in their systems. This, in turn, has its own adverse effects on those who later consume the meat." --Sadhguru in Inner Engineering.

Now I understand why cow-eaters face so many problems... especially the ones who do halal, torture, before slaughter because it is just implanting them with poison. Well, the debate should be kept beyond religion. It's basically what is good for the human system and what is not. The benefits of a live cow, as an integral part of the rural economy, are far more than a slaughtered one. In Rwanda, the gift of a cow, girinika, meaning god bless you with the gift of a cow, is helping in rebuilding a society ravaged by civil, ethnic and tribal wars. The moment two parties at loggerheads gift each other a cow, it is accepted as a truce and confidence building measure. The President there has started a girinika program which has revolutionized the meaning of rural development, using cow as a partner in the rural economy.

In the power game, humanely inferior always defeats humanely superior

"A bigger civilization is always defeated by a lower civilization. India was continuously defeated because of her higher civilization. People were more at ease, not in the mood to fight. They were enjoying life. Those who aren't enjoying life, they are ready to fight. If life is beautiful, you can bless everyone. If your life is in difficulty, in turmoil, you can kill, you can become destructive."

Osho

Why India only, now we understand why Tibet was gobbled up by an ever-hungry China. Now we understand why the people from a particular religion are ever-ready to kill. The only exception to the above seems to be America. But then possibly we shouldn't interpret technological advances as a mark of civilization.

Perils of cooking in aluminium utensils

Cooking in Aluminium utensils is risky for health. In simple words you can say it introduces slow poison in your food. According to researchers, cooking in Aluminium is not advisable. In India we even have a conspiracy theory about it. Most probably just a spin off of anti-colonial talk. They say that cooling in aluminium utensils was first introduced in the infamous cellular jail, Kala Pani jail, in Andamans by the British govt to slowly cripple the prisoners so that they won't be blamed with direct slaughter. And then the trend continued. Most of the modern day diseases have roots in Aluminium cooking, they say. Well, at least research has concluded that aluminium dissolved in the food during cooking gets deposited in brain resulting in Alzheimer disease. Our body basically doesn't require aluminium. So it is advisable to use stainless steel pressure cookers and other kitchen utensils where boiling is involved. 

Be the king in your small world

There are just dozens around us who have achieved more than us at the cost of far less struggle and effort than us. But there are millions who have nothing like us, even though they have struggled thousand times more than us. The numbers involved in this simple maths should make us proud and satisfied with whatever we have achieved and given by life. So smile, feel lucky and look at the small world, your own world, around you. It is bigger and better than you ever thought. Just that you have always been looking sideways to the taller structures. Don't worry the inhabitants over there are even more anxious than you. They have their own still bigger world to ogle at and feel sorry for themselves. You are a 'being', a phenomenon which can exist in the present. So simply be with the moment in your small world. That's what we call by being with your own self.  

Following the codes of existential intelligence

The tireless woman who is camera shy.

This woman-- I mean the one on the wire who is really shy and won't allow me to click her with a close up smile, forcing me to use some sister model of her's from the internet--is busy all day in knitting a little cup of love on the branch of our Parijat (night flowering Jasmine) for the new lives inside her. Well, best of luck soon to be mom, little red vented Bulbul! But then I have to keep a watch on the neighborhood goon also, the big rascally cat, as big as a leopard cat in the wild. I think my stick also needs to be in the scene somewhere...

Some sister of the one in the story, who is a more confident model.

PS: No need to mention that her husband is a loafer and does less work, fools around more. Possibly in the guise of warning tweets it flirts with the lady birds around. Well, not that scandalous because all men are like that. He is just true to his salt. So forgetting about him we can talk a bit about red vented Bulbul in general. They tentative smoke brown birds double the size of common sparrow and have partially crested black head which gives them a semi-hawk stern look. There is a very attractive crimson patch below the root tail. Their white rump is very prominent in flight. They can be very angry for their size. I was wondering about the shape and location of the nest. It doesn't look too safe. But then possibly they are confident of defending the citadel.  

The home...a cup of rootlets...sweet home.. waiting for eggs.

PSS: All well so far with the usual struggle. Chased away a cat many times. It has stopped visiting. Ironically there are always counterpoints in nature. So you have the eggs and you have Shikra, a small hawk bird of the region. At noontime I heard the parent couple's panicked notes and tweets followed by ruffling of wings in the branches. I just ran out exactly at the moment the hungry hawk was trying to perch on the delicate branches for a belated egg breakfast. It flew away and watched from a nearby tree. I loitered around to increase the morale of the defending force. It made attempt again and due to my being still ready for the job it had to fly away. Saw it again the next day and was sure of its success. Then prayed that its hunger be quenched somewhere else, on a dead animal preferably. Thankfully haven't seen it since then. The nest is very small and looks a weak fort--little did I realise the couple's pugnacity in defending even a weak fort--so draped a piece of cloth around, leaving a hole for the birds to sneak in, making it a better home. In any case mother nature can do without our discretion. But then I have to take some credit. The same old human malady. So I presume that possibly the hawk got duped in taking it as some human design to capture it. I have to take my words hitting at the father's laziness. He has earned my respect in many regards. While the mother is in the creative process of managing the nest, the man has been keeping a stern sentry watch from the vantage points in all this heat. I often see him perched on the top end of a rusted out-of-use antenna pole. Even with the hawk, 5-times bigger in size, it gave all that a father can. It fluffed its feathers to look larger and made cantankerous noise to distract the predator. It kept on going very close to the enemy and toe him away with the bait of a larger meal. What won't parents do for their children! He is more free with crows who are also at least five times bigger. He just doesn't allow them to sit anywhere on the surrounding trees, least they spot his family. The more I look at it, the more I am sure of the ingrained divine intelligence each and everywhere. Whenever he is having a row with a crow, tweeting vivacious abuses at a furious pace, the group of house sparrows, warblers and sunbirds add to the chorus, forcing the larger bird to leave the scene in indignation and irritation. Elsewhere, the collared dove looks silently with her mummed up silence and majesty. The cantankerous babblers just babble in a group possibly chasing a cat or even some little snake. Sternly professional mynah go with an air of well meant business. Peacocks, exiled by pesticides in the fields, sing mourning songs in the village. But who cares about the multi-coloured wonder of nature. Monsoon has been normal thus far, so everything is richly green. Butterflies go with business among the bougainvillea flowers who bloom to wildish proportions. And most importantly, I see the parents cargoing insects, grass seeds and worms into the nest. Possibly hatchlings are there, one step further. I can hear very faint chirping. Yea, new life! A new beginning in the stream of existence which links all of us. Life is just one common force driven by cosmic intelligence and it blooms in endless forms and avatars. Another drop of existence manifesting in the sea of existence. Well, best of luck Bulbuls! Let's hope all goes well.

Stay away and respect my privacy. 

PSSS: Life from close quarters, so open, transparent, innocent, vulnerable and optimistic at the same time. Their beaks are always open. The parents are busy throughout the day, still it falls short. The beaks are always open. They have to eat relentlessly, grow as fast as possible and beat the moment that may undo it all. 

Out of the shells and shaped out of the fluid

A squirrel lets loose a chittering chorus. A group of parrots go over with a fruitful shriek. A tatihiri (lapwing) goes on a trumpeting hoot, possibly happy for its correct monsoon forecast. A butterfly darts from bougainvillea to motia to mogra to rajnigandha to sunhair. There are more birds than a decade back and that gives some hope that mother nature isn't totally angry at us.

PSSSS: It has been a roller coaster week. Lots of noise. Well, the hatchlings have jumped out of the nest. All that incessant feeding bears fruits a bit quickly from human standards. There is no pause at this level in nature. One miss, and it's gone. Saw one of them in the shrub below the nest. The parents never fall short of nibbling at crow's feathers whenever they happen to be in the near vicinity. The father especially doesn't allow any bigger bird to perch on any nearby vantage point which may expose the tiny hatchling. They are all day putting out different sounds to communicate in a mysterious way. The language for survival. Presently they object even to me whenever I am nearby. I respect their ownership of the tree. In the scheme of things they own it before me. I don't know about the other hatchling, may be it's there also in the shrubs, may be it hasn't survived. Well, I am not looking for it either, because whenever I do they abuse spiritedly and I feel like an intruder in the scheme of nature. Let's hope this hatchling takes its first flight in the next couple of days. All the best little one/ones!

From a soft tiny ball of meat to a handsome toddler.

PSSSSS: Well, it has been a happy ending. The little one stayed on the tree, after coming out of the nest, for couple of days. Remained completely subdued, glued to a branch for two days while the parents ferried food. On the second day it drizzled almost throughout the day. It stayed like a cute little ball under a cluster of leaves. It even jerked its feathering and coat to shake off water. Well, then possibly it got bored. In the evening it stopped drizzling and away it went on its first sortie under a heavy shadow of clouds. Due to the monsoon everything has a double foliage. It will help him. I can see the parents loitering around on a cluster of keekars nearby. More than the little one, I am sure of the parents' ability to defend it. So I don't see any big hassles. They are no longer bothered about the tree and the nest which they defended so stoutly almost for a month. They possess a thing in totality unlike we humans who do it in fragments. Now they possess that cluster of lush green keekars. I can see the father perched on that dead keekar tree at his sentry point. Well, the world is better with at least one, and hopefully two, Bulbuls. Well done you husband and wife.

PSSSSSS: Even a prickly keekar appears so luxurious in the monsoon season. The little one must have been in the cluster of trees, a larger world, learning the tricks of the trade. I could see the parents loitering around very cautiously for the next two  weeks. They have a stern look and stout defenders of their rights for their size. Just watching them still busy, I can surmise that they still have the little one somewhere in the branches to get them fulfilling the parental duties.But now they look more relaxed, a clear signal that the young bird is growing well. After exactly two weeks of its first flight to a bigger cluster of trees, this breezy morning, I see the fruits of their struggle. It is growing boy or girl. In any case, they don't bother about such issues. Their duty is full not fragmented. It has a slight plumage and a slight crown on its black head. It is sitting on a high branch. And parents tweet from a distance. There it goes with a free swirl followed by the proud ma and pa. They aren't concerned about the nest. They own everything and nothing at the same time. Well the tree has new tenants. A pair of spotted munia. The already existing nest is cosy still but they don't care. They have made a new globular grassy citadel still higher. These are smaller birds and need a better accommodation. A bit below is another world. A tiny hammock cup nest of a white eye. There it sits sternly with its white band around the eyes. The more I see, the more I realise the design of existential intelligence. These birds weigh a few grams and look their feats. The codes of existential intelligence are very smartly written. Salutes to the supreme power!

PSSSSSSS: THERE is no indivisibly aloof life. There is just an ever evolving and transforming process. All apparent forms are just part and parcel of the ever expanding stream of energy. Individuality is just apparent on the surface because of the certain frequencies behind the shapes. But you still you feel elated when you see a milestone reached in the process. Here is the family.

The happy family on a dry crowning branch against skies overlaid with monsoon clouds 

They have build up the bridge to the continuation of "life and living" from their tiny point in the infinite scheme through their selfless work of the last few weeks. The father, as they are, is aloof, to the left. Ever pampering mother, like they are everywhere, is nearby to the right. And in the middle is the prince/princess. The fruitful outcome of nature. The little one is almost the size of its mother. I could recognize it only because it still has the childish manner of opening its beak and shakes its wings expecting to be fed an insect. It is gradually opening to the free flight in an open world. It darts quite sharply, a bit erratically though, and is seen out of the cluster of trees where it has been hiding for the last two weeks. They are still concerned about their little one. And they will continue dutiful to their duties till the day when it will take to the skies of its own.  The father takes liberties to be off the scene. Must be definitely flirting somewhere. The mother, on the other hand, is just busy with single point focus. I cannot see any other priority for her right now. She makes sounds particular to their species and type. The little one is being trained in different tones of sounds, for alerts, socializing and who knows what other coquettes of the birdie world. I even heard it imitating and responding to her. The other day, she nibbled at a guava on the courtyard wall and the young one looked keenly. It also imitated its mother and took beakfuls of guava. Must have really liked it because it continued greedily till a drove of sparrows landed and teased it by pecking at its tail. It then flew away with visible irritation. Now they take even bigger sorties of the open chunk of free skies. But off and on I see the mother and kid, and sometimes the father also, on the dry branches of a dead keekar tree from where the father scouted the skies for predators during the nesting phase. Well, it has been a happy story. Well done Bulbul pair. And best of luck little one!