The eve of Ganesh Chaturthi. In the street a few yards away, people are bringing home Ganesh Idols for the 10-day Religious Ceremony. Devotees on foot, overflowing open vans; there's a lot of hooting and shouting going on. But I seem to be a world away.
It's a wonder how much sound-proofing few trees and a lot of green bushes can provide.
The sun has gone down. Three months of usual Mumbai Monsoon has swelled my neighbourhood’s Municipal Park with an abundance of vegetation. The extra dark green leaves, the flowers of rainy-season and wet grass is all around me; even the trunks of the trees seem to be of a darker brown shade. Mother nature has provided the annual feast to her progenies.
I am sitting at a concrete platform built around a banyan tree, looking up absently. My eyes catch a bird busy knitting her nest; she has a twig in her beak, and is expertly, in short bursts of activity, weaving it through the half-constructed home. Can sparrows chatter even when their beaks are clenching something as fine as a straw? I guess they can.
My mind switches over to the ruminating mode.
Aren't we all building our nests, everyday? Accumulating metaphorical twigs to envelop ourselves in? Be it material possession or memories, don't we all want to surround ourselves with lots of straws as we go along the journey called life?
Even those who are 'Nomads' by their own definition, not wanting to settle down at one place (like "Bunny" in movie "Yeh Jawaani Hai Dewaani"), are busy collecting souvenirs for their own 'nest of memories'. Everyone wants a beautiful, colourful, enriched nest of things, memories, and friends to be in. And the more old one grows, the yearning for these 'twigs' also becomes stronger.
"Purpose of every journey is to find another way back home"; says Vikramjit Ram. The book written by him: "Tso and La - A Joruney in Ladakh" is sitting adjacent to me. I have just finished reading my first travelogue.
The author and his friend travel on a SUV from Bangalore to Ladakh via Srinagar, and return via Manali. They take about a month in the whole journey. The book is a nice read, chronicling small incidents along the way which make the travelogue just more than a mere account of 'what-we-reached-when' and 'what-we-ate-where-we-stayed'. Add to it stunning pictures of flora, fauna, and topography, and this book becomes a marvellous package.
Ladakh has been on my list of 'twigs to collect' ever since I bought my cruiser. Highest motor-able mountain passes in the world, -6 Degrees temperature, thin air, gravel road slush with 'melt'; it's like paradise for any bike-junkie.
Now, after journeying in Ladakh through Vikram's words, I reverie everyday about my bike-expedition to the northern-most, highest points of India.
I am going to scale this "Mecca for bikers" some day, and add that memory to my nest. It's going to be the Peacock feather in my feather-collection. Un-till then, I must satiate my bohemian tendencies with the Pigeons and Parrots nearby.
The sparrows seem to have settled in for the night. I pick my book and head back to my nest. Someday....!
It's a wonder how much sound-proofing few trees and a lot of green bushes can provide.
The sun has gone down. Three months of usual Mumbai Monsoon has swelled my neighbourhood’s Municipal Park with an abundance of vegetation. The extra dark green leaves, the flowers of rainy-season and wet grass is all around me; even the trunks of the trees seem to be of a darker brown shade. Mother nature has provided the annual feast to her progenies.
I am sitting at a concrete platform built around a banyan tree, looking up absently. My eyes catch a bird busy knitting her nest; she has a twig in her beak, and is expertly, in short bursts of activity, weaving it through the half-constructed home. Can sparrows chatter even when their beaks are clenching something as fine as a straw? I guess they can.
My mind switches over to the ruminating mode.
Aren't we all building our nests, everyday? Accumulating metaphorical twigs to envelop ourselves in? Be it material possession or memories, don't we all want to surround ourselves with lots of straws as we go along the journey called life?
Even those who are 'Nomads' by their own definition, not wanting to settle down at one place (like "Bunny" in movie "Yeh Jawaani Hai Dewaani"), are busy collecting souvenirs for their own 'nest of memories'. Everyone wants a beautiful, colourful, enriched nest of things, memories, and friends to be in. And the more old one grows, the yearning for these 'twigs' also becomes stronger.
"Purpose of every journey is to find another way back home"; says Vikramjit Ram. The book written by him: "Tso and La - A Joruney in Ladakh" is sitting adjacent to me. I have just finished reading my first travelogue.
The author and his friend travel on a SUV from Bangalore to Ladakh via Srinagar, and return via Manali. They take about a month in the whole journey. The book is a nice read, chronicling small incidents along the way which make the travelogue just more than a mere account of 'what-we-reached-when' and 'what-we-ate-where-we-stayed'. Add to it stunning pictures of flora, fauna, and topography, and this book becomes a marvellous package.
Ladakh has been on my list of 'twigs to collect' ever since I bought my cruiser. Highest motor-able mountain passes in the world, -6 Degrees temperature, thin air, gravel road slush with 'melt'; it's like paradise for any bike-junkie.
Now, after journeying in Ladakh through Vikram's words, I reverie everyday about my bike-expedition to the northern-most, highest points of India.
I am going to scale this "Mecca for bikers" some day, and add that memory to my nest. It's going to be the Peacock feather in my feather-collection. Un-till then, I must satiate my bohemian tendencies with the Pigeons and Parrots nearby.
The sparrows seem to have settled in for the night. I pick my book and head back to my nest. Someday....!
take me along....i'll help u scale the mecca...and add one more twig in my nomadic travels ...;)
ReplyDeletesuar suar. . . .ofcourse. . .bike trip to ladakh in 2015!!
ReplyDeletedelhi raste mai he padega ....awaz maar dena mujhe bhi :P
ReplyDelete