A Chameleon's identity crisis....

A Chameleon,  taking a break from slithering around, in the leafy environs of Bandra, a suburb of Western Mumbai.  Blogger friend Magiceye, posted this photograph , of a chameleon, ( "surveying his kingdom" as he says), as part of his Mumbai Daily: Camera Critters series . 

And it occurs to some, that this little fellow can look so regal, while some other folks known to us, can change colors all they want, throw weight around, and yet , they still fall short....

(photograph by Deepak Amembal Magiceye)

Life for him
is a many splendoured,
many colored  thing.....
As he slithers
green
in an out
beyond the leaves;
sometimes 
a scratchy brown
in the muddy base of a tree,
and then again,
a cool dark
shining
gold-black-brown
doing a
Bhujangasan
resting on the bark.

He inhales,
and looks up,
gratefully,
surveying
what surrounds him.

And sees a world
full of
folks,
who
not only change colors
to suit the occasion,
they even change
what surrounds them
destroying the green
and the brown
and the flowing blue...

And he wonders
why he is called a chameleon....

Ballad of the FSI.........

A posting by blogger friend Magiceye, as part of the  Mumbai daily: Skywatch Friday series.

A typical silhouette against the Mumbai sky, that of buildings being constructed higher and higher, and construction of higher floors waiting, for new investors  to fund it.  With limited space in Mumbai, Floor Space Index (or FSI)  granted to you by the authorities, , for the given piece of land, decides how high you can go.

It is not unknown for unscrupulous builders (are there any other type),  to exceed FSI's , in their greed to make profits. The spikes on the building in the photograph, in contrast with the adjoining trees and the free flying soaring bird,  made the following happen ...

They grow best
when FSI
is given
at birth....

Trees,
rising high,
blooming,
with
thriving greens
and flora,
shade for the tired,
and
condominiums
for the birds,
need no permission
to enjoy the sun
Up There...

Birds,
once cracking
through an egg,
walking as if on egg shells,
now soaring
high up,
dipping wings occasionally
in a Salute
to the FSI giver...

And we,
the so called smart ones,
cheat,
misrepresent,
kill trees,
dilute cement,
miscalculate ,
scrimp on truth,
and abuse
the given FSI
to build higher and higher.

He looks down,
and
those
ambitious
pointy spikes
hurt ......

And it has all boiled over ......

Just something related to what is happening in the capital of the country.


The corruption Milk,
for long
on Simmer,
has boiled and boiled,
now risen in anger
and
spilled over
the sides
of the public stove.

Despite the thick
Rules bottom,
the milk
smells burnt.

"No, its not!"
say the faithful,
"the flames were ordered
as per rules,
but the metal guage
was changed
at the last minute;
not to worry....
We can sweeten everything..."

"Nonsense" ,
say the public;
"its terrible for paneer,
we'll throw up the coffee,
and
the dahi will never form.
But we need
to change the stove".......


The heat is on.

And the public is thrown in jail
for abusing the milk.


Maybe the powers forget,
that one day,
the cooking gas will run out.

Sponging Off......

One often wonders whether humans learn from birds, or birds learn from misguided humans.

Maybe the latter is true .....


Blossoms in mango orchards,
harbingers of
days of young fruit,
energised
by the late
winter sunshine;

And a chirpy type
flits across,
picking at the fruit
with a well aimed beak;
testing the skin,
the firmness,
or the lack of it,
and
the ability to
prosper and grow
yet
on the parent tree.

Blinded by the
sips, slurps,
movement,
wings of color
and flights of fancy,
the fruit,
loses
its soft gold,
and half shriveled,
lives to tell the tale.

Of a show bird,
who doesn't recognize it any more,
but executes
a jeté
of a ballet pose,
as it bends down
fakely, daintily,
to admire
the honey
and the gold dust
in
another fragrant flower
in a distant garden.

Possibly waiting
to cheat another fruit,
on another tree,
once again ?....