Rainy Days

The Chatur Maas, a period of four months, is a time of observances as well as festivals and falls squat in the wet season. Raksha Bandhan and Janmashtami are just around the corner, Ganesh Chaturthi will soon follow. Stalls of brightly decorated Ganesh idols for sale have sprung up across the city. The slightly cool, clammy weather in this city makes it conducive to be indoors and often makes one contemplative. The trail is quite slippery and the last walk there was tricky but absolutely gorgeous. These days, the meanderings are fewer thanks to a combination of other commitments and the weather. But, city streets have been fascinating as usual.

The woolly necked stork is back in its nest. There is anticipatory joy as I turn the bend and come to the spot where it is possible to see the large bird. Today, I saw the pair, usually it is just one bird keeping guard. The nallahs have their share of winged visitors and compound walls have been draped in the pink of Coral Creepers with the bees getting drunk. Soon, the cork tree will be in full bloom and I will walk on a carpet of scented white petals. My balcony garden is also happy with a few regular visitors. The Red Pierrot has found a place to make home with the kalanchoe while the sunbird stops by for breakfast every morning. The crows have become more confident and sit on my windowsill cawing until I indulge their hungry stomachs. This is a season made for leisurely watching. The clouds hurry across, almost as though there is a deadline to keep. In a way, I suppose they have one, a discharge of their swollen bellies full of heavy droplets of water. 

Time on the mat has increased this year and it has kept the physical activity at a level that compensates for the lack of long ambles. Reading has been decent, broke a slow spell with some lovely books. I’ve been particularly thrilled with a tome on anatomical illustrations that is simply gorgeous. Highway tripping has been low key, hopefully that will change soon. There’s been some dabbling in learning a new script as well as a dip into some natural history. It’s nice to have these interests, like different trails within the same wilderness. 

A snippet of the last couple of months through images.

Abandoned houses

Sundays have been restful days since the last couple of months. A complete day off. Sometimes, the youngling and I take off either for a long walk or a drive. Yesterday, we quickly finished stocking up a bit of fresh produce and a few essentials before heading out to the other end of town. We got a takeaway breakfast, listened to music of her choice and drove past the cantonment in our neighbourhood to the one further away in Khadki. Khadki or Kirkee as it used to be known is an old cantonment, approximately 200 odd years old. It is home to some beautiful old trees, quaint churches as well as old houses, some of them abandoned and in various stages of disrepair.

Kirkee War Cemetery

The light was really pretty around this house.

This one had a bovine squatter!

While a strict lock-down is imminent, it doesn’t feel restrictive personally since the lock-down lifestyle continues save for the restriction on walks and drives. I guess this lock and open game will continue as surges become unmanageable and hospitals run out of beds. In the hour or two that I am out, I see many screeching ambulance hurrying through red lights. The pandemic has lost its ability to shock. Now, it’s simply a part and parcel of everyday living. I suppose when the loss hits closer home, it will bring its own sorrow but else there seems to be a desensitization to its virulence.

Methodist Church

Over the centuries, we have developed some control over some diseases and have come up with tools and techniques to predict natural calamities but largely control is illusory. The planet and her natural laws are boss, we’d be smart to acknowledge that and learn to co-exist with her other creatures and the natural world at large. It seems doubtful though that we will really change if the current is any indication, not just in terms of the environment, hygiene and the likes but also in the way we live amongst our own kind.

I’ve often dwelled on death and dying to understand what it might mean to live and be alive. In yoga practice, one often ends with savasana or the corpse pose. It seems deceptively easy. How difficult can lying down with your eyes shut be but to really inhabit that pose, one has to be prepared to experience being dead. That sense of surrender is a difficult one, making it quite a challenging asana to stay in. Much of what passes for savasana is often guided relaxation and not really resting in the space of not being.

The daughter made an interesting observation that we spent more time outdoors in these months than pre lock-down. She’s gone cycling for at least an hour or two most days while I’ve gone on long walks. It’s been an immersion into the local flora and fauna and there has been a curiosity to understand more about the mini forest that is just around the corner. The woods facing my balcony have also been a rich experience ever since I moved here in December. Seeing it as a green headed space to stark browns to a verdant green again has been a meditation on the march of seasons. The balcony is a restful space and an old pair of binoculars has allowed me to enjoy watching birds and butterflies. The lushness is camouflage now and one has to sit simply for a while to notice the avian activity. I still can’t identify many of the birds, especially the smaller ones but it is interesting to find out. There are many enthusiasts who share freely of their knowledge and then good old books.

Balcony birding

The butterflies are in full form now. In fact, yesterday at one of the old ruins of a house I counted around 10 different species in a matter of 2 or 3 minutes. That compound was a large one and I suspect that the property has a well or another water source. I saw a man, presumably a wandering mendicant in an orange lungi who was putting on a shirt. In another corner of the property, a man sat on a tree with a bag next to him. Homeless people also need their makeshift homes to sit out the vagaries of the weather or people. That particular place had a section of the outer wall still standing and wooden window frames. The brickwork on the house seemed to be from a later period compared to the other ruins I’ve seen. Those bricks are much slimmer.

This property had a riot of butterflies

I found myself looking at the top left window and imagined a woman looking out from a century ago. What would her world be like? What might have she seen from behind the curtains? Did a family live there? Was it a large one or a small one, a happy one or a tormented one? Whose were the ghosts that roamed within its walls? How did the house come to be derelict? Abandoned homes and the stories they can tell. So many reasons, why they are left without pulsating bodies. But that is perhaps something best left undisturbed.

It reminds me of a few lines I wrote a couple of years back.

Abandoned Adeniums

The garden lies untended

No wild overgrowth

Just desolate dust

The Buddha, silent

The house, still

The windows, blank

The doors, unopened

No baby cries

No kitchen smells

No music of life

No singing birds

No blinking lights

Just a mute house

and abandoned adeniums

that bloom

I used to know a house like that…