Nothing Rhymes with Orange!

Gazing at the tall Indian beech, I thought I saw a hint of peach, amidst the lush leaves of green, was that a touch of tangerine? Into the thickets it had gone, chasing a shade of persimmon, if it was to be a whistling parrot, why did I see a hue of carrot? Was it … Continue reading Nothing Rhymes with Orange!

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The Sentinel

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

Tempest in a Teapot?

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 Firm Be“leaf”!

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”!

A Desired Mini Vet(ting)

Whenever you have that feeling, or worse – knowingly accede, that you are nearing to be a self-proclaimed pompous personage with a haughty know-all illusive air of being utterly proficient in the entire domain of nature photography, it would, in my considered opinion, not be unwise to revisit some of those fanciful presumptions of having … Continue reading A Desired Mini Vet(ting)

The Artist

No easel no canvas, pencils erasers, no palette or brushes, neither inks nor paint, none of these ever, are seen to be used, and yet each masterpiece, without constraint. On the easel of heavens, the world is her canvas, sunbeams to draw, erasing with breeze, a palette of clouds, and a single moonbeam, dipped in … Continue reading The Artist

I Wish…

Every time I gather you in my palms, your warm, moist, gentle touch and fresh, earthy, humid fragrance seeps into me, a soothing sensation of immense contentment. Yes, I have an undeniably intense and compelling connect with you. For all that and more, dear earth, allow me yet one more indulgence that when it is … Continue reading I Wish…