Old Man leaning against the rain tree near Karuna Hospital was gazing at the morning landings of fruit bats (flying fox); the first drop of sunlight fell through a winter sky, landed on the bats putting a sheen to their browns. January morning was 7 old as Old Man sat down with back to the trunk of the rain tree. Took out a beedi, smoked waiting for 7.30 when binoculars could spot them at their breakfast of brun pav and tea served by Bhagwan. Beedi over, Old Man stood in the middle of Karuna Road, put his eyes to binoculars and went meditation....bird watching is meditation for him. A young couple on their morning walk sidled up to the Old Man, told him: Uncle, a speeding car or bike may thump you. Old Man returned: Karuna Hospital is near, a car driver or biker will put me there. The young couple refused to let go. They stood by, guiding traffic, mainly of school buses and watching bats. They had missed bats for too long. And then drove in the Lady in a Scooty with two stray dogs and few house sparrows chewing Parel G on the back seat; parked the Scooty and took her place near her friend, the Old Man. 'Old Man has nothing to do; glued to bats, an ado,' tuned Lady and Old Man smiled, all teeth intact. Nearby five year old girls were playing at the missionary school called Lady: 'Aji', a collective roar and a bat nearly fell off the rain tree rafters. Lady called them out (with the okay of the nuns) to watch bats and a smallish crowd on the road halted traffic; they horned and honked, gave up to join the Old Man and Lady; the school bell rang and Karuna Road became quiet with bats in sleep. After the usual chais with Bhagwan, they went watching warblers; till date they cant make one from the other, but they stand and watch with necks up; curious strays form company; they become warblers and today a white-fronted kingfisher on an overhead electric wire was calling. By 9, they packed up; Lady started her Scooty with an addition: a rose ringed parakeet on her shoulders. Old Man walked home with strays following; took his window seat and scanned the mangroves far ahead; the strays fell asleep on the bed; in the sky four black kites were curling the air; flying and swimming are same, talked the Old Man to himself; perhaps it is the same science in flapping of the wings and arms; coffee over, thumbed The Book of Indian Birds by Salim Ali; there were too many warblers and Old Man tried to match the book and open air sighting on bare branches. But then birding is not about knowing; it is enjoying bird life, getting a feel of them, observing them and being them. Old Man likes birds because they are birds. A Dhoni OK to aloneness.
Thursday, January 5, 2017
Birding
Old Man leaning against the rain tree near Karuna Hospital was gazing at the morning landings of fruit bats (flying fox); the first drop of sunlight fell through a winter sky, landed on the bats putting a sheen to their browns. January morning was 7 old as Old Man sat down with back to the trunk of the rain tree. Took out a beedi, smoked waiting for 7.30 when binoculars could spot them at their breakfast of brun pav and tea served by Bhagwan. Beedi over, Old Man stood in the middle of Karuna Road, put his eyes to binoculars and went meditation....bird watching is meditation for him. A young couple on their morning walk sidled up to the Old Man, told him: Uncle, a speeding car or bike may thump you. Old Man returned: Karuna Hospital is near, a car driver or biker will put me there. The young couple refused to let go. They stood by, guiding traffic, mainly of school buses and watching bats. They had missed bats for too long. And then drove in the Lady in a Scooty with two stray dogs and few house sparrows chewing Parel G on the back seat; parked the Scooty and took her place near her friend, the Old Man. 'Old Man has nothing to do; glued to bats, an ado,' tuned Lady and Old Man smiled, all teeth intact. Nearby five year old girls were playing at the missionary school called Lady: 'Aji', a collective roar and a bat nearly fell off the rain tree rafters. Lady called them out (with the okay of the nuns) to watch bats and a smallish crowd on the road halted traffic; they horned and honked, gave up to join the Old Man and Lady; the school bell rang and Karuna Road became quiet with bats in sleep. After the usual chais with Bhagwan, they went watching warblers; till date they cant make one from the other, but they stand and watch with necks up; curious strays form company; they become warblers and today a white-fronted kingfisher on an overhead electric wire was calling. By 9, they packed up; Lady started her Scooty with an addition: a rose ringed parakeet on her shoulders. Old Man walked home with strays following; took his window seat and scanned the mangroves far ahead; the strays fell asleep on the bed; in the sky four black kites were curling the air; flying and swimming are same, talked the Old Man to himself; perhaps it is the same science in flapping of the wings and arms; coffee over, thumbed The Book of Indian Birds by Salim Ali; there were too many warblers and Old Man tried to match the book and open air sighting on bare branches. But then birding is not about knowing; it is enjoying bird life, getting a feel of them, observing them and being them. Old Man likes birds because they are birds. A Dhoni OK to aloneness.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment