Holi Colours

From beneath the flowering Persian Lilac (Melia Azedarach) tree, I looked up and saw a sky of the truest blue through the fresh green leaves of spring. White clouds sailed across the blue, silhouetting a pair of crows in shiny black.

The sun went down painting the clouds pink and purple, leaving behind a soft golden glow. Behind the hibiscus, the full moon rose fading from yellow to white, till finally, the world was just different shades of grey.

Elephant Diwali

The elephants came on the eve of Diwali. They weren't greeted with lights as Ram and Sita were greeted by the people of Ayodhya so many aeons ago. Sal and I were sleeping. Tension, our dog alarm, announced their arrival with a volley of loud barks. If he weren't so scared of snakes, maybe I wouldn't have mistaken his excitement for the escape of the cobra from its box (its fangs are still growing back after its encounter with a snake-charmer). Arghh... if only I had looked out of the window instead of into the snake box!

So our guests stopped ten metres short of the room where I was serenading the stars with my snores. They left their calling cards and left - the flattened electric fence, a peepal tree we can't find and elephant dung everywhere. The recently built hide was left intact (perhaps my snoring scared them off!).

We wished they would return. We spent Diwali patrolling the quarry scanning the tree line for the hulking shadows that would signal their return. But they'd moved on.

And so we watched the crackers from our vantage point, cursed the people sending up huge clouds of sulphurous fumes into the already smoggy air, and wished each other a Happy Diwali (neither of us is Hindu). And we wished that the people would give the money that they burned every Diwali to the poor. Yes, there is employment in manufacturing the crackers, but must surviving be so hazardous?

The Grey-headed Mynas (Sturnus Malabaricus Malabaricus) turned up on the owlet tree. The White-throated Fantail Flycatcher (Rhipidura albicollis) has been in our sights for a while. And the skulking Blue-faced Malkoha (Phaenicophaeus viridirostris) has kept me amused with its carnival mask-like face.

Rehab

How do I recuperate from a long week at work? I go to the Banerghata Rehab Centre. And what do I do there? I undergo therapy. Therapy, in the form of cleaning the living quarters of the patients, cooking for the staff, washing the utensils, recording the activities of the visitors, building assorted shelters for the various activities that take place there.

BRC is a wildlife rehabilitation centre. The patients are mostly birds and reptiles injured and displaced by the urbanisation of the areas around Bangalore. Saleem, the bearded keeper, and his bunch of friends look after them till they're ready to resume their lives back in their natural habitats again. There are also the occasional confiscated pets and show animals that need care. These are the 'lifers' - animals that can never make it back in the wild.

The visitors are the birds, amphibians and reptiles dropping by from the National Park. The staff are the humans, the volunteers.

Sometimes though, more than the animals, it's the people that volunteer there that are in need of rehab. Perhaps that's why they volunteer there.

For me, time at BRC is time free from my cares. When I peer out of my binoculars at a Booted Eagle soaring in the sky, there is suddenly no one else in the world. Just me. Or when I watch the Indian Pond Frog calling as the sun sets, bright red behind the abandoned quarry. Sometimes, there is someone else watching. Someone I can't see. I know the eyes are there, but.... The leopard has been seen by others at BRC, but not me. I'm sure it has watched me scan the undergrowth for it a hundred times. Or perhaps, the eyes belong to the huge silhouettes of the elephants that come to feed on the Ragi.

The Shikra chick has grown up. On Sunday, it decided that a kite was coming too close to home, so it jumped on it. The sight of the Shikra, identified by a missing tail feather (a souvenir from its encounter with Bangalore's development), diving in on a Black Kite more than twice its size. Nice! It still comes and sits outside the kitchen window and asks for little pieces of meat though.

The rickety jackal is still in his enclosure. No one had seen or heard him in months, so Saleem and I decided to walk through the grass to find him. There was no sign of him until we gave up and headed back to the gate. And then, there he was, hiding in a clump of grass just by the gate. So, he's still around, and the food's not been taken by something else living in there.

And Mr Johnny Walker Mynah. He doesn't like loud voices, and will let you know. I was giving him a dressing down for crapping on my clean jeans when he jumped me, digging his claws into me face. Hmm... I learnt my lesson. Mr Walker's the boss!

And, and, and.... there's so many things ...

Maybe the hide that Ajay and I put up this weekend will help us photographically record the birds that frequent BRC. Maybe it'll just fall over when the wind blows. I'm not really an engineer, you know!