When my nest won’t be tangled, and my tree not likely strangled, while my river will flow undefiled, my forest allowed to grow wild, my pastures left free to forage, my wings not bound in cordage, will ever I wake up to this sight, or forever sleep filled with fright? [In the frame: Pied Myna … Continue reading Yet I Dare Hope
Skies overcast, Aves downcast, Forests fading, Men invading, Foliage lost, Steep cost, Boughs stripped, Fronds ripped, Nest unshielded, brood yielded, Refuge blown, Battle zone, Darkness ahead, Forsaken fled, Whither retreat will your wings weary, We will always leave your eyes bleary… [In the frame: Black Drongo (Dicrurus macrocercus) in silhouette; Aarey Forest, Mumbai] – Narendra … Continue reading Nowhere to Fly
A fragrant green bog, wisps of a chilled fog, merry gurgling stream, frogs soak and dream, the silent shallow stills, frilling those lofty hills, carpets of furry moss, hollow logs lie across, the musty loamy soil, where tiny insects toil, a rustling forest floor, a grunt a howl a roar, light whistling breeze, the busy … Continue reading Beyond the Wall
A profusion of clumsy rustling on a carpet of dry leaves under the scrubby vegetation somewhere to my left told me that I was in luck. And as the collective patter of feet came closer, my eyes naturally began to scan the tops of the scrawny trees which, with their few green boughs, would be … Continue reading The Sentinel
The gradient was not that steep for the mildly experienced climber that I am, but the lack of level ground to get a firm footing was turning into a trifling issue. I had climbed about halfway up the rocky slopes and, wedging my feet in the space between the crevices of adjacent boulders, I lowered … Continue reading A Lot of Bull(bul)!
This one isn’t about tea or its receptacle. Nor remotely about W. Shakespeare. (Neither is it an attempt to plagiarise any of his revered dialogues.) It is titled thus since I fear there being a fair chance that at the end of my exposition you may feel that it is much ado about nothing; but … Continue reading Tempest in a Teapot?
A budding growth of tender blush, li’l red sprouts on the underbrush, thus I was born with brethren few, rush of life on a green bough new. We slowly turned a verdant green, growing and flaunting a silky sheen, seasons came on and bade goodbye, we stood through all wet cold or dry. Some were … Continue reading A Firm Be“leaf”!