Wildlife Around Me - Hornbills.

Silhouetted against the grey monsoon sky are my favourite neighbours, The Hornbills. They used to live deep inside the foliage of a tree little away from my house but now it appears that they have shifted closer. We used to hear them arguing amongst themselves in their harsh voice every morning but I had never seen them.  They seemed to be strictly following the saying “Hornbills are to be heard, not seen” just like, “Children are to be seen, not heard”. I had been trying to locate them from their call using my abilities of ‘shabdhavedhi’ but had only been successful in making a reasonable guess of the tree from which the noise was coming.

These days I see them occasionally on another tree closer to my house when they fly from one branch to another. My wife said that she once found one of them pecking at our windowpane and was forced to shoo him/her off and protect our property. Good neighbours, as long as they don’t break our windows.  May be they saw the sunbird and the robin doing it and thought that they would pitch in and help their friends in breaking the glass.

 Today I was lucky to find one of them sitting on a bear branch and with a clear background and rushed for the camera. It remained seated as if posing for the picture and I got a decent one considering that the bird was about 80 feet away and that I had to use the full zoom of my autofocus.  Only after transferring the picture on to the computer screen I found that I had got the spouse also! If you too have missed the second one at first look, check the fork right below for a curved beak pointing in the opposite direction.

Happy Monsoon !

I am not keen on celebrating birthdays and anniversaries. I like what the Kannada writer Beechi said when he turned sixty and people started congratulating him. “What is so great about turning sixty? Any stupid fellow who doesn’t die, will be sixty one day”. (“aravattaguvudEnu mahaa? saayadE  uLida yaava bhanDanigaadarU aaguttade aravattu!)

I do not celebrate the new year day, middle year day or the year end days, nor, father’s day, mother’s day or the dentist’s. They make no sense to me.

And I think there is really nothing to celebrate about Diwaali, Christmas or Ramzaan.

What I feel like celebrating is the onset of monsoon. At a time when we don’t know what is in store for us  - what with the mindless environmental abuse we are indulging in - I consider the onset of monsoon is an indication that mother nature has forgiven us yet another time.

Sometime during April- May, the water supply department starts giving out bulletins about the stock of water available in their reservoirs and how long it would last. That makes me fear what we would do if the rains are not on time and if we run out of water? I don’t know what they call the phobia of having to live without water but I have it. My anxiety levels increase with the decreasing levels of water in the reservoirs and when the monsoon sets in it disappears for another year. When I see the rain pouring, I feel like dancing. But I do not dance because, if I do, my family would start praying that it never rains again.

The monsoon is right on time this year and it started raining this morning. I like the sight of drops of rain falling from the sky and pouring out from the tips of coconut leaves. I like the sight of water drops on the papaya. I like the sight of water flowing between the flag stones and collecting in a puddle around the plants in my garden. If I were a poet I would write a poem every year (thank your stars that I am not) but I have to make do with a few drab words that are at my disposal.

So, HAPPY MONSOONS !  (For anyone who cares)

Fruit Trees - 1

Our papaya tree did yield two fruits at last. We had saved the seeds from a very tasty fruit given to us by a friend and had sown them. Resident ants of our garden loved the taste of the seeds and they finished most of the seeds. Out of the few seedlings that came up, three grew up. I planted them at three different places around the house. One died due to stagnation of water around the roots. Monkeys ate one sapling when it was about two feet high and very tender. I managed to save the third one and it grew at its own pace. It was nearly eight feet high and was flowering during last rains. One morning after a very windy and rainy night I found the tree lying flat on the ground. Since the roots were intact, I lifted it up and supported it with whatever was handy. Sticks, bricks and used car tyres to name a few. It survived the monsoon and another onslaught of monkeys and the flowers turned into tiny raw fruits. We eagerly waited for them to grow in size but one after the other they ripened and rotted overnight while they were still very small. To our relief, this phenomenon stopped on its own and some of the fruits grew in size. But they remained green even after they were quite large. I was observing them every day and when I detected (or imagined?) a very faint yellow shade in two of them I plucked those two in an attempt to prevent them from rotting on the tree and kept them separately hoping that they would ripen naturally. Nothing happened for three days and I was expecting them to dry up. To our great surprise they had silently turned  to a beautiful orange- yellow on the fourth morning reminding me of Mankutimma’s ‘Phala maaguvandu tuttoori daniyilla’ (Trumpets are not blown when the fruit ripens).

I was sure that the fruits would taste as good as they appear and they did. But better was the taste of success in nurturing the plant and getting the fruits in hand.  We had just finished the one that was cut and was about to go for the next when a friend of mine came along carrying some fresh vegetables he had grown in his field. He had been bringing us vegetables this season and we had nothing to offer him in return. The papaya came in handy. He accepted our home grown papaya with pleasure. Its feels nice to nurture a plant and get the fruit in hand but feels even better to offer the fruit to someone we like. “haNNu hanchi tinnu, hoovu koTTu muDi” goes the saying (share your fruits and flowers).

I have written about our chikoo, guava and plantains earlier and this papaya is probably the last, at least for the time being. We do have another two trees in our compound, the mango and the coconuts. Considering the rate at which the mango is growing, only the progeny beyond my great grandson/daughter may have some chance of tasting the fruit. One coconut tree has just started with the first flower and I do not know how long it takes for the flowers to turn into coconuts. People who are in the know about plants and trees (or think they know the plants and trees) say that the first flower of a coconut tree never turns into coconuts and they also say that I have made a mistake planting the mango and coconut next to each other. I believe both of them are highly ‘individualistic’ trees and will never thrive in the company of the other.

When my wife hears such observations about my mistakes, she whole heartedly approves their view adding that this house has as many mistakes as the number of bricks used in its construction. She also says  that if I can make a list of all my mistakes and put them on the blog, at least the blog, (on which I waste such a lot of time) would be useful for someone who intends planning his/her own house!

That apart, talking about the trees, I read somewhere that after we leave the house in which we grow up and set up a house of our own we tend to recreate the atmosphere of the one in which we lived as children. I do not know if it is so but when we found ourselves with some space around this house in which we could plant some fruit trees, the first tree that I thought of planting was the guava tree. Was it because the memory of the guava tree which was in front of our house in Bangalore and on which we have spent a considerable part of our childhood never fades away?

I would like to write about this guava tree and few others which were around our house in Bangalore. We have enjoyed their presence and they have many pleasant memories associated with them. But it would get really long. So, I will take my brother’s example of writing in pieces and save them for the next bit if and when I can make it. In the hope of continuing about our fruit trees I have named this ‘Fruit Trees - 1’.

IPL Match Fixing

I really do not understand why there should be such a hue and cry over the IPL match fixing. In our country everybody who can fix something fixes it. I fix teeth. The railway minister fixes positions in railway board. The law minister fixes CBI reports. The telecom minister fixes 2G, 3G or whatever. Our poor cricketers know only cricket and they fixed cricket. Probably they were just a few lakhs short for their next BMW bike or the Ferrari car. It is not their fault actually. Did anybody lodge a complaint? No. Our ‘aam aadmi’ was happy with IPL. He enjoyed Shahrukh khan’s dance, Katrina’s item and the cheerleader’s cheers. Why did the police have to butt in, bringing the last page IPL to the front page and rob poor Sanjay dutt of his rightful place? 

Elections In Karnataka

Today is the election for Karnataka assembly. I remembered it when I saw the Goa - Belgaum, Goa - Hubli (and onward) buses crowded. I see them every day and they are usually empty. I will come to the crowded buses shortly.

It is a pity that all the parties in Karnataka have fielded people with proven track record of illegal mining. There is no hope for the state which even during British raj was famous for people oriented policies and activities. One of the less than half a dozen princely states amongst more than five hundred said to have been pro people. It was being ruled by Sri Krishnaraja wodeyar and was being administred by likes of Sir Vishweshwariah then. If anyone sees any hope for the state even today it is because of the inherent goodness of the people of the state and in spite of the best efforts of the politicians to ruin it.

Coming to the crowded buses, there are thousands of people who are natives of Karnataka villages working as manual labourers in Goa. Many of them still have their voting rights in Karnataka. These people are approached during election times by the party agents and are paid to and fro charges to their villages plus one or two thousand rupees per vote. The money is paid in Goa in advance. They can just keep the money and forget the election. But these sincere and honest labourers travel hundreds of kilometers in crowded buses, sometimes standing all the way to go and vote for the person who paid them. They know that they are not supposed to sell their votes but the lure of cash is very strong. And having accepted the money they do what they had promised.

I hope against hope that one day we will be rid of this evil but for the time being I wish that the people who paid the money were at least half as honest and sincere in their job as those who received it. 

Sarabjit Singh

Sarabjit Singh was attacked in a Pakistan jail while he was there waiting for the noose to go round his neck. Pakistan says he was a terrorist and he was found guilty by a Pakistani court. We (Indians) say that he was innocent and his capture was a case of mistaken identity. Sarabjit died in Pakistan and his body was sent back to India. We hear of many such cases in India too. Some ‘terrorist’ arrested or killed in Kashmir and his family and friends claiming him ‘innocent’. We, staying thousands of kilometers away and reading these things in news papers and seeing accusations and counter accusations on the TV have no chance of learning the truth. We watch these things impassively. It is just another piece of news for us.

Now if Sarabjit Singh was innocent, my sympathies for his family. He suffered unnecessarily because of the enmity between the two countries. The government has offered one crore for his family as compensation. He has been labeled a martyr and a state funeral is held. The Punjab CM -Badal and future PMhopeful - Rahul attended the funeral.

As I hear, Sarabjit Singh crossed over the border between India and Pakistan without noticing it because he was drunk. He was arrested and the outcome was unfortunate. What is even more unfortunate for us is the attitude of our politicians who do not think twice before turning any incident into a part of their vote catching exercise. They turned an unfortunate drunkard into a martyr, fired emotions, attended his funeral and handed over public money to the family hoping that it would buy them lot of votes.

I read about people hurling shoes at them. I wish I had the guts to go and kick them.

Understanding Each Other

Wednesday and Saturdays are the market days in Ponda. My wife believes that we get better quality and variety vegetables on those days and expects me to visit the market and get the best. I try to pretend that I have forgotten about the market and open the news paper. She snatches the paper from my hand and thrusts a shopping bag.  I obey the orders, go to the market and bring back a bagful. My wife empties the bag.

“Why did you bring French beans?”

“They were fresh and tender. Price was also very reasonable”

“But didn’t you remember eating it yesterday and also the day before? I just managed to clear what you had brought last week and you have purchased another two kilos. What will I do with them?”

I have no answer. She goes to the next item.

 “Brinjal. They look at least a week old. Look at the stalk. Brown. How many times have I told you to buy Brinjal only if the stalk is green. I send you to the market hoping to get good vegetables and you bring this rubbish.”

“Forget Brinjal. I have brought ‘Paalak’ also(spinach). You wanted ‘Paalak’ didn’t you?” - me

“I did tell you to bring ‘Paalak’ but it does not mean that you have to bring it even if it is rotting. You act like ‘Peddu Gunda.’”  (meaning the hero of the story ‘Gunda the idiot’ - Gunda’s granny sent him to work and he was given some butter as wages. He brought it home in his hands in the hot sun and it had melted and gone by the time he reached home. Granny said what was given to him should have been placed in a container full of water and brought home. Next day he was paid wheat flour as wages. He poured it into a container full of water and brought it home………… so on the story goes)

She takes a short break to regain her breath and continues

“Today being Wednesday I was hoping that I will get good vegetables and that I need not bother about buying vegetables for another week. You have brought three items out of which two are useless and one that we have eaten all of last week.  And what I wanted most was coriander and lemons both of which you have forgotten. Oh my god. When will you understand me?”

This is a sample conversation which follows my arrival from the vegetable market. Items, adjectives and exclamations may vary but the gist and tone is generally the same.  So, now I have learnt. This week I refused to go to the market unless she came along. We went to the market together.

We were about to enter the vegetable market when she remembered that we had to stock up on groceries and some other stuff too. Since we were close to the super market we decided to go there first.

To save time (and to shop peacefully) we parted at the entrance, one to go clockwise and the other anticlockwise. We met somewhere in the middle and looked into each other’s shopping baskets.

“You got Clinic anti dandruff!  Nice. I had emptied the bottle the day before but had forgotten about it.” - Me

“I saw you throwing the empty bottle. I know that you do not use any other shampoo and these are not always available. So I took two.”

She saw the handle of the broom sticking out of my basket.

“You noticed that the broom had worn out! I never knew you looked at such things. I had been meaning to buy a new one but I always forget. Good that you took it.”

I looked deeper into her basket.

“Apricot jam! wonderful. I did not know that new stock had arrived. I was fed up of that mixed fruit” 

“I know that you hate mixed fruit and that’s why the moment I saw this I picked it up.” -wife

Now her eyes fell on the ‘Shrikhand’ ( a sweet) I was holding in my other hand and she looked lovingly at the jar containing the next half  kilo of her weight.

“Oh, Chitale Shrikhand, Mango! Where did you get it? I did not see it in the cold store.”

 “I noticed that you like to have some dessert after dinner these days and I also know that you love this. It was being unloaded from the van just now. I requested and got a jar. They have not stocked it in the fridge yet.”

So on and so forth our exchanges went. We had almost read each other’s minds and got everything that we required. Great team work. How well we understand each other! It was a lovely feeling.

We carried the two heavy baskets to the billing counter but we did not feel the weight at all. We deposited the bags on the counter and the clerk billed them.  I was very happy with our new found camaraderie but at the same time I was a bit uneasy. This was not like us. Somewhat unnatural .

“One thousand six hundred and forty eight” said the billing clerk.

My wife looked at me and nodded, asking me to pay.

“You pay. I only have about two hundred rupees with me” - Me

“How will I pay? I haven’t brought my purse. Haven’t I told you that I will not carry my purse when you are with me?”

“But I have told you at least hundred times not to be a fool and always carry money with you. Now don’t blame me.”

“You are the one who was supposed to visit the market. I joined you only to make sure that you buy good vegetables. It was your responsibility to keep enough cash”

“Vegetables were my responsibility. I have enough for that. I did not expect you to buy half the super market”

By now those behind us in the line were getting jittery though happy with a bit of free entertainment to break the monotony of waiting. Some necks had stretched forward to catch our words better. My wife hissed.

“Everyone is watching us. It is so embarrassing. You always put me in such situations. Now leave those baskets there on the counter. Go home and get some money. I am going to the vegetable market.”

She snatched the two hundred from my hand and rushed out. I came out of the supermarket and as I started the scooter I was feeling normal once again. We had got over our understanding phase and everything was fine!