A Monsoon Dusk

It was nearly dusk and fluffy grey cumulonimbus clouds were scurrying across they sky carried by the strong Southwest monsoon winds. Actually, I should say racing, they were definitely moving at 80 km an hour at the very least. As I watched they darkened the horizon and blocked out the last rays of the setting sun. In a matter of minutes they were overhead darkening the blue sky, ushering in the night quicker than usual. With the light fading, the grey-tinged clouds seemed to darken more and hang lower, perhaps as they are closer now. There was a sudden break in the clouds and the sinking red orb dazzled like a ruby for a split second before sinking from view. More clouds crowded in and the gap at the horizon where the sun peeked out was no more. The cheerful looking cumulonimbus now resembled foreboding nimbus. The last vestiges of blue were fast disappearing


The clouds did not seem to be in a hurry now, they seemed to halt and wait for the stragglers to join them. Lights flickered on in the houses and apartments nearby, I thanked the stars I did not have an apartment building right next to block my sky-viewing. Then came the first moist gusts of wind, gentle at first, sporadic, as though teasing. Its feel on my arms was a pleasant caress, the coolness refreshing. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the freshness it brought in. The sporadic flow steadied, then came along a little strongly, slowly picking up speed and rhythm. In a couple of minutes the breeze had turned into a strong wind. The clothes on the clothesline in the balconies and terraces nearby flapped. The few winged creatures in the neighbourhood took flight, presumably to their nests. My eyes strained to follow them in the twilight.


Then suddenly, as if a tank had burst, the rain came down, fast and furious. It jerked me out of my reveling. For all my observation of the preparatory rituals, the rain still came as a mild shock. The downpour seemed a stern contrast to the play of the clouds. My hand stretched out on its own accord, the feel of water on my arm was heavenly. In the semi-darkness I watched the water drip off my fingers. It was lost in the torrent just a second after it left my fingers. I overturned my hand and caught the rain in my palm, then I slowly tilted my hand and let the water flow off. It held its identity only marginally more than the water dripping off my fingers had. I was absorbed in my little game for a few seconds. Suddenly the wind changed course and rain caught me full on. I stepped back quickly and laughed. The wind was back on course now. The monsoon rain had been affronted with my assumption about it being a staid lady. It was her way of saying, “Who said I am not playful?” It was completely dark; the night had fallen.

Birdwatch

I sat in my cubicle at work which is probably one of the better ones for it gives me a view of the world outside even if a blue-tinted picture. As I glanced up from my world of pixels and absent-mindedly looked through the floor to ceiling blue panes which are kept spotlessly clean by our house-keeping personnel, my eyes lazily followed the two specks tracing a pattern against the blue and white canvas that is the sky.

As my mind slowly slipped away from trying to wangle a solution for the problem I was working on, my nerve cells diverted their energies to the two tiny specks. And the ignored signals from my optic nerves got their due.

The two specks grew steadily larger as the two white-necked eagles that often rest on the balcony rails outside our blue-tinted windows flew nearer. I threw back my head and rested my neck on the backrest of my chair and stretched my legs, all the while continuing to watch the soothing rhythm of the eagles flying in circles. How come one doesn’t get dizzy watching them fly round and round I wondered lazily. As their flight-dance sequence moved closer to the building, I could make out the slight bends of their wings and the gentle tilts of their bodies as they fly. Their movements are graceful and seemingly effortless.

I noticed their heads were bent facing down, then I realized they were looking for/stalking their prey from above. I couldn’t but marvel at their sync even as they kept their eyes on the ground.

“What did their sharp eyes spot on the concrete roads and mosaic pavements in the IT campus when I haven’t spotted a single seed or stone in all my three years here?” I mused.“Maybe some rats on the garbage dump behind the foodcourt.”

One of the pair disappeared out of view suddenly as it swooped downward, probably zeroing in on its target. The other continued to circle even as it moved slightly further away. The first one had probably scared away the other potential targets as it stealthily and in one swift motion grabbed its unsuspecting prey.

“Ah! To fly! To spread one’s wings and glide!” I thought wistfully. “You aren’t the first to wish that dear”, said another part of me with a slight chuckle. I smiled to myself.

Pondering on my chain of thought a few seconds back, “The life of an eagle probably isn’t as romantic as it looks”, I thought. “Food wouldn’t appear as if by magic every mealtime. Every morsel of food has to be hunted out, probably flying for hours under the hot sun. Its nest requires even more labour.”

But then, the eagle does have something to show for its efforts. All the grueling hard work goes towards gaining something solid, something tangible and something meaningful.

Even to the unintended spectator, it gave a stunning show and a relaxing break from the mundane. Wonder how many of us can claim of such an achievement!

Priorities

On watching the astounding series “Planet Earth” from the BBC stables, it struck me that in the enthralling variety that is nature, there is one theme that is recurrent. From the Hump-backed whale to the brittle starfish, there are four priorities for every living being – self-defense, food, courting, parenting. One may argue that the third and fourth are part of a single priority – an urge for propagation of one’s species. But I prefer to keep the classification this way.

The mechanisms of the living being, its features, its way of life and choice of habitat are all dictated by these four factors. So much so that these are the defining factors of a living being. Study of any organism will be comprehensive once these four are covered.

Pondering on these lines, it seems it is us humans who have complicated our priorities way too much. Probably because these four priorities do not pose as big a challenge to us as they do to our fellow creatures.