Only a year ago, I was sketching my neighbourhood birds in Bombay. And now here we are, in the Western Ghats, these are my attempts at observing and identifying the birds whose songs track my days.
The light is turning green against the blue curtains of the room,
I hear Ramesh Anna switch off the lights outside.
A giggle. I wonder what he said though.
A chuckle now, farther away. It grows louder.
Clustered. Around where? My ears are unable to follow.
I wrap the light blue sweater tightly around myself and step into my shoes.
It’s like walking into cold water.
I walk towards the portico railing and there they are,
making way for me, laughing, louder as I get closer,
hopping all around me, its a santhe only.
I was looked up and down by one of the birds,
he was wondering why I wasn’t in motion
Why was I behaving like a branch? I sure didn’t look like one.
He came closer, sat on the counter a few feet away.
He urged me to move, he wasn’t used to this.
Stasis.
How does one explain that to a swift sparrow?
Her song comes in before she does, right into the canteen.
Her customary hellos at every table, whether it is occupied or not
She needs to be seen, she doesn’t trod on the floor
Millet and Pepper must be around, her songs cannot be mewed away.
Not today.
namratanarendra.com 
Leave a comment