A Saturday morning at Lalbagh

The elusive Paradise Flycatcher, a wounded Eagle and the fleeting glimpse of a Coppersmith Barbet
- A Saturday morning at Lalbagh

Part I (Waiting in the Japanese Garden)

I guess it is becoming pretty obvious that I am turning to be a birder :) Every chance I get, I am off to Lalbagh to catch some of the exotic (Read the ones I’ve never seen!) birdies I read about in the Bangalore Birds Group.

This weekend was no different. I was intent on sighting the beautiful Paradise Flycatcher from the moment I read a mail on the bngbirds group that went “I have been spotting a male Paradise Flycatcher with splendid chestnut colored streamers @ Lalbagh…”. I am sure you would agree that description is enough to make anyone even remotely interested in birds sit up and take notice – and let’s say am more than ‘remotely interested’.

So there we were at Lalbagh, a little late for the joggers crowd but still early compared to the lazy sleep-in Bangaloreans, all prepared to chase the Paradise Flycatcher and get at least a single shot on our proud Kodak Zoom Cam. And believe me you when I say it was a beautiful and perfect day – the skies had opened up while we were all cozily sleeping during the night to give us a fantastic and chilly yet bright weather. Almost seemed as if the Gods were willing to favor me and set up a ‘must-attend’ meeting that the Flycatcher can’t ignore :)

I was in a ‘shoot at sight’ mood – a bench that seemed dirty a week ago looked like it was the perfect shot to win a photo competition. Never mind that I had an ulterior motive to take pics with ‘Water’ to enter the Bangalore Shutter Bugs photo contest for the week!

The first thing to do of course was to find out where exactly the “male Paradise Flycatcher with splendid chestnut colored streamers” was spotted…according to the information I had, it was at the Japanese Garden. Now where is this Japanese Garden for heaven’s sake? And pray tell which tree in the Japanese Garden? Now, now, I know what you are thinking – that I can’t even wait patiently and find the little birdie by myself in the Japanese Garden. If I am right (about what you are thinking!), then that shows your ignorance on birding matters. Especially ignorance on the plights of amateur birders.

So we walked and walked and walked and finally reached an area that had a board confirming the destination we were heading to – Just that I didn’t see anything there that even remotely resembled a Japanese garden! Not that I know how a Japanese garden looks! But surely they don’t have voluptuous statues clad in Indian clothes in their gardens in Japan? You never know uh?

We sat there waiting expectantly for over half an hour looking around here and there when I suddenly realized “Does this bird hop on the ground? Play in the bushes? Fly over the trees? Or sit pretty on the branches?” Where am I supposed to look???? The only thing I saw were some friendly doggies on the ground and thick green cover above! I almost hit myself when I realized I knew zilch about the characteristics of the Flycatcher and well, I stand a zero chance at spotting it with my zero patience!

Hmm, the Gods were not so great after all :(

I let myself be dragged away, with dropping shoulders and the promise of “Bennae Dosa” (Butter Dosa)… wishing that the Flycatcher was a kinder bird, a bird that could read minds of people sitting in Japanese Gardens, a bird that knew I wouldn’t hurt a single feather in its body and a bird that would make friends easily…

To be continued – Part II (To save or let die)

They sing because they have a song

"The Whales do not sing because they have an answer
They sing because they have a song."

I hope to see the world through the eyes of a whale, an elephant, a manatee, a meerkat, a cheetha. Being amazed by nature in all its forms is the lifeblood of Ashes and Snow. I have tried to leave the windows and doors open so that others can enter and feel the same amazement that I felt during each work's creation.

I belive the Australian Aboriginals were exploring the same enchantments when they painted animals; they were not interested in merely painting the contours of their bodies. They focused equally on the animal's interior dream life....

"May the guardian elephants hear my wish to collaborate with all the musicians of nature's orchestra. I want to see through the eyes of the elephant. I want to join the dance that has no steps. I want to become the dance."

Ashes and Snow

Common sense in the way of happiness?

Story Of a Good Brahmin
by Voltaire

I met on my travels an old Brahmin, a very wise man, full of wit and very learned; moreover he was rich, and consequently even wiser; for, lacking nothing, he had no need to deceive anyone. His family was very well governed by three beautiful wives who schooled themselves to please him; and when he was not entertaining himself with his wives, he was busy philosophizing.

Near his house, which was beautiful, well decorated, and surrounded by charming gardens, lived an old Indian woman, bigoted, imbecilic, and rather poor.

The Brahmin said to me one day: "I wish I had never been born!"

I asked him why. He replied:

"I have been studying for forty years, which is forty years wasted. I teach others, and I know nothing. This situation brings into my soul so much humiliation and disgust that life is unbearable to me. I was born, I live in time, and I do not know what time is. I find myself in a point between two eternities, as our sages say, and I have no idea of eternity. I am composed of matter; I think, and I have never been able to find out what produces thought. I do not know whether my understanding is a simple faculty in me like that of walking or of digesting, and whether I think with my head, as I take with my hands. Not only is the principle of my thinking unknown to me, but the principle of my movements is equally hidden from me. I do not know why I exist. However, people every day ask me questions on all these points. I have no answer; I have nothing any good to say; I talk much, and I remain confounded and ashamed of myself after talking.

“It is much worse yet when they ask me whether Brahma was produced by Vishnu or whether they both are eternal. God is my witness that I don’t know a thing about it, and it certainly shows in my answers. ‘Ah! Reverend Pandit,’ they say to me, ‘teach us how it is that evil inundates the whole world.’ I am as much at a loss as those who ask me that question. I sometimes tell them that all is for the very best, but those who have been ruined and mutilated at war believe nothing of it, and neither do I. I retreat to my house overwhelmed with my curiosity and my ignorance. I read our ancient books, and they redouble the darkness I am in. I talk to my companions. Some answer that we must enjoy life and laugh at men; the others think they know something, and lose themselves in absurd ideas. Everything increases the painful feeling I endure. I am sometimes ready to fall into despair, when I think that after all my seeking I know neither where I come from, nor what I am, nor where I shall go, nor what shall become of me.”

The state of this good man caused me real pain.No one was either more reasonable or more honest than he. I perceived that the greater the lights of his understanding and the sensibility of his heart, the more unhappy he was.

The same day I saw the old woman who lived in his vicinity. I asked her whether she had ever been distressed not to know how her soul was made? She did not even understand my question. She had never reflected a single moment of her life over a single one of the points that tormented the Brahmin. She believed with all her heart in the metamorphoses of Vishnu, and, provided she could sometimes have some water from the Ganges to wash in, she thought herself the happiest of women.

Struck with the happiness of this indigent creature, I returned to my philosopher and said to him:

"Aren’t you ashamed to be unhappy at a time when right at your door there is an old automaton who thinks of nothing and lives happily?"

"You are right," he replied. "I have told myself a hundred times that I would be happy if I was as stupid as my neighbor, and yet I would want no part of such happiness."

This answer of my Brahmin made a greater impression on me than all the rest. I examined myself and saw that indeed I would not have wanted to be happy on condition of being imbecilic.

I put the matter up to some philosophers, and they were of my opinion.

“There is, however,” I said, “a stupendous contradiction in this way of thinking.”

For after all, what is at issue? Being happy. What matters being witty or being stupid? What is more, those who are content with their being are quite sure of being content; those who reason are not so sure of reasoning well.

“So it is clear,” I said, “that we should choose not to have common sense, if ever that common sense contributes to our ill-being.”

Everyone was of my opinion, and yet I found no one who wanted to accept the bargain of being imbecilic in order to become content. From this I concluded that if we set store by happiness, we set even greater store by reason.

But, upon reflection, it appears that to prefer reason to felicity is to be very mad. Then how can this contradiction be explained (along with the others)?

Surviving

"One of the chief obstacles many creative people face is how to cope with the intersection between our creative and our professional lives. Is drawing, painting, photography, music, whittling, just a hobby? Or are we serious about it and wiling to throw ourselves over the cliff's edge and base our livelihood up on it? Anxiety over this issue is what derails a lot of us when we are young...."
http://www.dannygregory.com/2006/02/post_7.php

Interesting......Very interesting

Excerpt, with all due rights to the writer....

"The mountains beckon, and tomorrow I leave for the Himalayas, first to Amritsar and then to Dharamshala where the Dalai Lama resides. Given my constitution, physicality and stature, i am a seeker of warmth and light... I am therefore uncertain about my yearning to brave the cold......."

http://prashart.blogspot.com

Discovering the world around

Till sometime back, I walked around with my eyes closed - or so it seems. So caught was I with my life. But recent conversations, observations, startling self-discoveries and forced self-discoveries made me open my eyes wide - and man, was I in for a treat or what? It almost seems like its a nicely orchestrated dance that reveals a little of the action, moment by moment. Here's an example -

I am a regular visitor to the biggest garden in the city. And I thought crows, mainas, sparrows and a few more creatures summed up the wildlife.

Imagine my surprise when I come across the most strikingly 'purple' creature almost right under my feet- while I was busy staring at the horizon, thinking about my life as it was and as it will be! And to think that I had been at that very place over a hundred times and have never ever seen such a cute bird.

Presenting the "Purple Waterhen/Moorhen" for you :) from Lalbagh :)


And here's a beautiful "White-throated/breasted Kingfisher" :)