The Mynah Chronicles

What do you say when a blogger called Sukanya Datta comes across an injured Mynah chick, decides to protect her, and takes her to the house of her friend, Sangeeta Khanna ?

And what do you say when they rig up an impromptu "ward bed" made of baskets,soft cloths and more and make the bird comfortable, and treat it with lots of rest, care, food, and boosts of confidence ?

 And what do you say, when the baby bird, enjoys,  thanks to Sangeeta, amazing meals of soft wet dates, moist bread and a dessert of mango, golden enough to match its beak ?

 And what do you say, when  "Doctor Sangeeta" simply scares off all the free loading crows, cats and shikras, circling in for the kill, gives the little bird a bath, and readies it with encouraging words to face another day, in this Big Bad World ?

An absolutely true story, that calls for a million bravos !

(All photos by Sangeeta Khanna)

Destiny-bai,
officially in-charge,
lifted her shoulders,
and
simply shrugged;
those who do not listen
must bear with the consequences....

A so
the Mynah Chick
lay helpless on
the path
much trodden
by a Sukanya,
who stopped
and scooped her up
to see what she could do.

A trip to the Music Lady's
and an hour later
the little bird
lay,
fatigued
yet hopeful,
in a makeshift ICU for birds;

A hanging covered
basket incubator
and the chick rested
and recouped,
energised by
soaked dates and bread
and
little mango pieces
fed carefully ,
day after day,
by the lady.

A short bath,
a shrugging of the droplets
and the mynah chick
relaxed,
drying itself
in the warmth of human kindness.

Shameless Molester crows
and the hissing cat,
not to mention
Raptor shikras
powerfully eyeing
and contemplating
a blatant visit,
all now held
under IPC section 144
to keep them away
under
the strict glare
of the Music Lady..

Unlike
how it works for
victims
in a human biped world,
the Mynah
now sleeps well,
secure and strong,
stretching back, eyes closed
and possibly dreaming
of its next mango meal
lovingly fed
by the Music lady
who speaks words of reassurance.

Destiny-bai,
who is used to taking credit
for everything
and never any blame,
hopefully has learnt a lesson....

Sun Questions

At one time, in India, Summer was vacations, mangoes, jackfruits, trips to native places, running and climbing amidst the trees, swinging with cousins of homestead swings,  and swimming on beaches and riverfronts. Today, most of these things are either polluted, or expensive, and vacations sometimes do not even happen .

For aeons, the country, state, city is the same, the Sun is the same, the sky is the same, but suddenly, sunscreens are a dire necessity, you have many of them preying cleverly on your obsession with your ability to tan, and turn dark, and folks who have more modes of covered transport than say, 50 years ago, daily slather on stuff as they leave for work. 

Call it insecurity, call it herd mentality, or call it inability to be comfortable with your own melanin levels,  the cosmetic companies are laughing all the way to the bank.


I wonder what the Sun Himself has to say .....

He sits enthroned
and golden
smack in the centre
watching all nine of them go by.

Eartha,
the only one,
with
noticeable human movement,
carrying her oceans ,
her animals.
her people,
her trees and her
mountains and rivers,
going around
endlessly.
around herself too,
to get a breather
from his piercing hot gaze.

He sees
women on steep mountain roads
carrying pots to fill;
who cares if you look darker
if there is to be
water for all;
the sari palloo
and the pot
will cool the merged fontanel.

He sees
a gaggle of kids
throwing themselves
into
the breaking waves
of a polluted sea
with overflowing
infectious mirth,
making him
temporarily hide
behind a cloud and smile....
Any color is fine,
if they get space to play

And he sees the young girl,
half out,
fluttering
in the suburban train door,
squinting against him
and some
nasty folks
passing by in another train
another way;
Another in sunglasses
and a scarf
rubs something
on her arms and face
and disembarks.
And the young girl wonders
how many lunches
she must forgo
to be able to buy
a tube of stuff
like the other girl.

Maidans full of sweaty kids
waving bats around,
young fellows with
false ages,
working on carts
selling stuff
in the hot midday sun;
Five stars full of pools,
waving colorful umbrella tops,
with some pretending
they cant reach their backs
to slather the stuff in the tubes;
Some very concerned
talk
on Sun Protection factors(SPF's),
the know all lady
nodding , what else
knowingly.

And late in the day,
as he hurries
to meet his Ocean ,
he wonders,
how he,
to whom
Suryanamaskars were addressed
in praise,
in chaste Sanskrit,
and the
Gayatri Mantra
resonated every dawn
in his honor,
how he could suddenly
be the villain
that spoils the beauty
of those
inhabiting the planet....

He wonders
if it is Fair....?
and then says
"Oops! That was a loaded question......"
and promptly
sinks into the waves...

Seeking Shelter ...

One never knows what interests people these days.

My young FB friend , engineer and fellow collaborator on Madness Mandali's  Kavikala,  Satish Suggala,    posted this amazing photo on FB recently and I was fascinated   while thinking about the interplay between the various items on display. here.

This was probably  a makeshift bench somewhere, where tired folks sat  without any worry, totally unaware of the perils of getting clothes mired  and torn  in the nails
while getting up.


Clearly, the little yellow carefree leaf, had no such fear.


And a poem happened.  First in Hindi (our National languge).  Then the English happened ....:-)



(photo by Satish Suggala)

कुछ चीज़े
ढकल ढकल के बिठानि पड़ती है ,
कुछ चीज़े
हतोड़े से मार मार के एक जगह पर
बिठानि पड़ती है ,
और इतने सब शोर में ,
कुछ चीज़े
हवामे उड़ते दुपट्टे की तरह ,
तैर तैर कर ,
थक कर,
अंत में
स्वखुशीसे चुपचाप नीचे आकर सोती है
और सोचती है :
" चलो , आज रातको तो आसरा मिल गया !"......

Some,
loaded,
rough,
tough,
battered with age,
and rough at the edges,
managing to fit in
after a push here
and a shove there;

Some,
shiny heads,
unrelenting,
battered
and banged into submission
by massive strokes
of
the Hammer of Fate,

And in all this
raging chaos,
Some quietly float in,
like a scarf
swimming in a wind,
till
thought fatigue,
settles them down,
to rest
on the rough-hewn base,
thinking,
" Ah well, I have made my bed for tonight, anyway !"

Birth Stories

Blogger friend, scientist,avid gardener, and photographer Sangeeta Khanna, posted this on FB.  A fitting photograph to depict the arrival of the new year and the passing of the old.

Sometimes things take on a human quality.  As below :

(photograph by Sangeeta Khanna)

Old Gulabibai,
specially there
for the
confinement.

Back in her
home ground,
alert
to assorted
ill-mannered flower pickers,
anti green
avaricious crooks,
and unexpected
ill winds,
she guards
the expecting mother
ferociously
sharpening her thorns.

Always
by her side,
shooing off tiresome moths
one early dawn,
amidst tumultuous breezes,
and crowding greens,
the waters break,
and
little Rosa arrives.

Celebrations
and gathering of leaves,
drenched in the waters,
and Gulabibai,
tired,
slips aside
to lean back a bit,
her dull cream paloo
wrapped
about the shoulders,
her dull gold hair
glistening with sweat.

It's time 
for her to move on, 
and
for Little Rosa
to bloom 
and face her own day
in the Sun.

Learning from Mrs Asota....

FB friend Anand Amembal posted this wonderful photo of the Asota Ficus Moth, captured at the Ovalekar Butterfly Garden , which seems to be a popular haunt for butterfly photographer folks these days. It once again proves, why , despite the glitzy manmade artificial fabrics, those that are inspired by nature , like silks , inspired by its colors, will always be hankered after.

For a tiny moth, the Asota Ficus is very smart. Its Larvae feed on Ficus types (fig trees), which gives them some inbuilt protection in life, maybe in invisible color, or generated smell etc, from predtaors....

Nature works in amazing ways .....(and yes, what's it with Amembals and butterflies ? just saying..:-))   ..)

(photo by Anand Amembal)

Cool climes of winter,
gardens agog
with
moths and butterflies,
socializing
in parks and gardens.

The Painted Lady thistle butterfly,
the Red Admiral,
and the Monarch,
the Camberwell Beauty,
Beautiful Utethesia Bella Moths
flitting carefully,
minding their wings....

And Mrs Asota Ficus,
resplendent
in a pale gold Paithanee Silk
and a Burnt Sienna blouse,
resting and mobilising
for a
flowery Haldi Kumkum
at the Ovalekar Butterfly Park....

Like so many
who learn to survive
in this big city,
little larva Asotas
feed on the Ficus types,
and this makes them
unpopular
throughout life,
to predators....

Wish there was some Ficus Food
for us humans too
to keep away the corrupt predators....