Rise of a sparrow

When I first saw Russet Sparrow few years back –a sparrow washed in yellow breeding plume, I thought this to be Yellow-throated Sparrow (aka Chestnut-shouldered Petronia) that famously initiated Salim Ali. Russet Sparrows (Passer rutilans) are quite common along the Himalayan foothills towards NE hills and East Asia, overlapping with Eurasian Tree Sparrow as we go east. The calls are similar to House Sparrow but much sweeter. The male have russet colour upperparts from crown through rump, hence the name. Sometimes they are also referred to as Cinnamon Tree Sparrow.   

  

Back at Jejuri, literally and literarily

This is my third visit to Jejuri, and every time I come here it gets bigger and crowded. It also gets restricted and starts to lose the innocence with grander version of religion starting to establish itself. It seems its learning with experience and influences to standardize itself and thus reduce to a clone of brahminical references. That though is unlikely to have greater control as the soul of god here is too wild to be tied in sanitized version and therein lies the redemption of Jejuri, and largely vibrant nature of religion. 

When I first read Arun Kolatkar’s Jejuri (most likely in 1998-99), it was an O Theri moment for me!! I was awestruck by the swift lines and the world it created. Within a month I was in Jejuri. It was quite an incredible journey. Jejuri is a temple town about 50Km from Pune famous for deity Khandoba, who has liking for horses and dogs!! There are regular buses and it takes about an hour and half, must add it used to take more than two hours as the roads were once rickety, now though things are smooth and pleasant. 

Arun Kolatkar (1932-2004) was bilingual, writing both in Marathi and English, famously reticent. This is what Amit Chaudhuri writes (in 2006 on introduction to international version of Jejuri) “I found Kolatkar there on the Thursday afternoon; three or four meetings, another trip to Bombay, and long-distance telephone calls to a neighbour's phone (he didn't own one himself) followed in my attempt to make him sign the contract. I found him a mixture of the unassuming, reticence, mischief and recalcitrance. His well-known prickliness about contracts came not so much, I think, from a feeling of neglect, as from a sense of allegiance to a sub-culture that had, by now, largely disappeared”

The collection of poem Jejuri came out in 1974 (this blogger doesn’t recognize Commonwealth, so will avoid any reference to it) by a small publishing group Clearing House, Bombay and since then by Pras Prakashan. It is difficult to get the book except at The International Book Service at Deccan, Pune (Ph. No. 25677405). It’s an old bookstall that could close down one of these days; Kolatkar was a regular visitor here, dropping in to have a look at his books!! The elderly man at the sales told me he tried to strike up a conversation but wasn’t very successful. 

I am posting few of the poems here with pictures I took but if you need to truly understand Jejuri you must buy the book, it certainly is a collector’s item. 

A Low Temple

A low temple keeps its gods in the dark.

You lend a matchbox to the priest.

One by one the gods come to light.

Amused bronze. Smiling stone. Unsurprised.

For a moment the length of a matchstick

gesture after gesture revives and dies.

Stance after lost stance is found

and lost again.

Who was that, you ask.

The eight arm goddess, the priest replies.

A septic match coughs.

You can count.

But she has eighteen, you protest.

All the same she is still an eight arm goddess to the priest.

You come out in the sun and light a charminar.

Children play on the back of the eight foot tortoise.

Manohar

The door was open.

Manohar thought

it was one more temple.

He looked inside.

Wondering

which god he was going to find.

He quickly turned away

when a wide eyed calf

looked back at him.

It isn’t another temple,

he said,

it’s just a cowshed.

 

Chaitanya

 sweet as grapes

are the stone of jejuri

said chaitanya

he popped a stone

in his mouth

and spat out gods

what is god

and what is stone

the dividing line

if it exists

is very thin

at jejuri

and every other stone

is god or his cousin

…

there is no crop

other than god

and god is harvested here

around the year

and round the clock

out of the bad earth

and the hard rock

…

scratch a rock

and a legend springs

 

 Yeshwant Rao

Are you looking for a god?

I know a good one.

His name is Yehswant Rao

and he’s one of the best.

Look him up

when you are in Jejuri next.

Of course he’s only a second class god

and his place is just outside the main temple.

Outside even of the outer wall.

As if he belonged

among the tradesmen and the lepers.

I’ve known gods

prettier faced

or straight laced.

Gods who soak you for your gold.

Gods who soak you for your soul.

Gods who make you walk

on a bed of burned coal.

Gods who put a child inside your wife.

Or a knife inside your enemy.

Gods who tell you how to live your life,

Double your money

Or triple your land holdings.

Gods who can barely suppress a smile

as you crawl a mile for them.

Gods who will see you drown

if you don’t buy a new crown.

And although I am sure they’re all to be praised,

they’re either too symmetrical

or too theatrical for my taste.

Yeshwant Rao,

mass of basalt,

bright a post box,

the shape of a protoplasm

or a king size lava pie

thrown against the wall,

without an arm, a leg

or even a single head.

Yeshwant Rao.

He’s the god you’ve got to meet.

If you’re short of limb,

Yeshwant Rao will lend you a hand

And get you back on your feet.

Yeshwant Rao

does nothing spectacular.

He doesn’t promise the earth

or book your seat on the next rocket to heaven.

But if any bones are broken,

you know he will mend them.

He’ll make you whole in your body

and hope your spirit will look after itself.

He is merely a kind of a bone setter.

The only thing is,

as he himself has no heads, hands and feet,

he happens to understand you a little better.    

Some from my scribble pad with pictures

 

Pray and smile

Two children sit inside

dark hole of a shrine

waiting for devotees

to trip in

and drop some coin.

No photos, it will make the god angry

said the older of the two.

I was taking the picture of you two, said I.

Ah in that case let’s pray

and you take our photo.

 

God and Dog

God is the word

And I know it backwards

(from the poem A Song for a Vaghya by Arun Kolatkar)

The dog looks at the devotee

The devotee looks at the god

The god is a yellow sprayed rock that doesn’t look

The dog decides to take a nap, head on the god

and dream a godless god  

 

Sometimes we can sing like a Whistling Thrush!!

Before I get into this I must say that I was quite disappointed with Blue Whistling Thrush, accentuated by my experience with whistling music of Malabar Whistling Thrush for over a year in Western Ghats. Malabar Whistling Thrush was such an exhilarating presence that defined my mornings, of all the birdcalls this one is right there on the top. Blue Whistling Thrush (Myophonus caeruleus) in comparison falls short, a rather large bird he lacks the fine tuning sweetness in the call, that made Malabar specie so very endearing. 

Sometimes we can sing

like a whistling thrush

And sing all day long  

And fly back home

When it is time to go

Till then we can sing

All day long    

Five Heritage trees of Mysore

This 260 year old Banyan tree at T.Narsipur road is a spectacular sight. What is interesting about this Banyan tree is that its aerial roots are clustered in the centre, unlike other Banyan trees where the aerial roots tend to spread and so the tree moves horizontally like using stilts. Some of the awe inspiring old banyan trees I have seen are, of course starts with the one at Alipur (in Kolkota), incidentally the botanical name Ficus bengalensis originates from this one.  Then there is one at Theosophical society in Chennai, at Rishi Valley school Chitoor AP, Dodda Alada mara in the outskirt of Bangalore, Ramohalli on the way to Mysore… 

Which was the wood,

Which the tree from which

They (the Gods) shaped

Heaven and earth?

(from RigVeda)

   

There are about 750 species of Ficus, India has about 115 of it. Ficus don’t produce flowers but figs which are pollinated by tiny wasps, an 80 million year coevolution. 

The second tree is also a Ficus, Ficus Religiosa  -the 160 year old Peepal tree at Manasa Gangotri. Peepal is also referred to as Bodhi tree as Budha got enlightenment under this tree hence ‘religiosa’, also sacred to Hindus. This one is truly spectacular, probably one of the grandest Peepal tree I have seen so far.

The third one is also at Manas Gangotri, in the nursery (must add quite difficult to locate this one) is the 300 year old Tamarind tree: Tamarindus indica. The tree is in a sad state, hit by lightening and general decay.  Not many may be aware that Tamarind originated in central Africa. Dakar, the capital of Senegal means tamarind in Senegalese. Incidentally world’s largest auctioning centre for tamarind is in Chintamani AP. There is a rather famous Tamarind tree, in Gwalior, at the tomb of singer Tansen. It is believed that if you eat the leaves of this tree you will have voice as melodious as Tansen’s, so you will find many wanna be singers munching away to glory!!

The fourth tree is the majestic Silk Cotton tree: Bombax ceiba, right in the middle of the city, behind the city bus stand, planted by Curzon about 100 years back, therefore Curzon Park. Its trunk gives a faint recollection of Baobab. In the month of March this common avenue tree (particularly in Delhi) blooms and is in riot of five petal red, there is a huge one at the entrance lawn of Teen murthi bhavan. Bombax cieba flowering is also the pattern for Rosy Starling migration. 

The fifth one is the ubiquitous Neem tree: Azadirachta indica, this one at Crawford hall reckoned to be more than 100 years old. There is a neem tree at shirdi under which Saibaba sought refuge and gained repute as a healer. 

Most part of neem are of value and has been ingredient of traditional medicines and insect repellant, therefore venerated and considered a divine tree, it was carried to Fiji, Mauritius etc by Indian immigrants. Only few decades back the day began for most Indians with a tooth brush by neem twig!!  

Treewalks

There are walks conducted in many parts of the world, some to do with heritage, nature so on. Walks specifically designed to know about trees is not very common, indeed quite unique in many ways. I have been quite fortunate to have attended two walks conducted by maestros in the field. 

Pradip Krishen at Delhi ridge of Aravalli range, Raisina hills

This happens to be predominantly Acacia forest just behind the Rashtrapathi Bhavan. Pradip krishen comes with a huge reputation, having authored what is arguably a seminal book on trees Trees of Delhi (recently I got a mail on his second book, Jungle Trees of Central India is out). I had met him at Narmada Valley in 1998, I used to be with group of young journalists during those long walks. Words began to do the round that Pradip Krishen has lost it ‘the guy talks only about trees’, avoid him. I recall quite distinctly we had sat for lunch at one of the huts, and he pointed to a tree and started talking. We had good laugh in the sidelines. Much water has flown through Narmada (and the dams), I have become wiser and realize the guy was a valuable presence. So here we were a motley group waiting for Mister Pradip Krishen to turn up, our man was late. That should have given the inkling of things to come. He emerged from his vehicle with a scowl and three dogs. So began our ordeal, he did speak about few trees but was mostly laconic and withdrawn, and had to be prodded constantly, some of the ladies did amazing job of it (being over the top delhiite works sometimes, this surely was the occasion!!). Mr. Krishen was curt, and after few mishaps with the ladies said something to the effect “you must have read that in my book” meaning “you philistine don’t ask too many questions”. He was back in the cuddly world of his dogs, tired one lady even suggested that she can hold his dogs from him “for godsake”; our man was not easily to be parted. So we gave up and formed sub groups and carried our little walks and private anguish. 

Pradip Krishen is a  perceptive writer (also an award winning film maker), and the book is a must have. I would rate it as one of the top ten Indian books of last few decades in all genres put together. But as a Nature walker, he is eminently unsuitable. He gave the impression of a snob who had come for a walk with his dogs and we are intruding into his privacy! To know that we paid for it, made us feel cheated. Please avoid, it is a waste of time and money.   

Vijay Thiruvady at Lal Bagh, Bangalore

Like Pradeep Krishen, Vijay Thiruvady is an alumnus of St. Stephens (Delhi). Mr. Thiruvady has been conducting tree walks in and around Lal Bagh for many years now, with passion and enthusiasm intact, if not amplified. He too has written a book on trees Heritage Trees (of Bangalore), credited to Pradeep Krishen in no less way.  Talking of books on trees, Forest trees of the Western Ghats by SG.Neginhal is another book of repute. 

Mr. Thiruvady is immensely knowledgeable, interactive and having travelled across the globe, he is able to regale his audience with useful anecdotes and information. I have gone for tree walk with him more than few times (they have made it free for me!!), everytime there is something new to learn and observe.  His walks are rated as top ten walks around the world by reputed chroniclers, finds mention in Lonely Planet guides so on. His walks are carefully planned and executed with finesse, he impresses me every time. The latest one, the other day, was about fruiting Calabash tree and how it was used as a currency in Haiti. Gourde is still the currency of Haiti, though it refers to coins not the actual calabash gourd!! I was aware about gourd shell being used as musical instruments but as a currency was interesting indeed. The walk ends in a breakfast at MTR, and useful information about how rava idli –the signature dish of MTR, was started during the Second world war, as there was shortage of rice. MTR on Sunday morning is like Kumbh mela in Benaras, but for tree walkers space is reserved, that in itself is not a minor achievement! Overall tree walks by Mr. Thiruvady is an agreeable experience and strongly suggested if you are in Bangalore on weekends (you may also visit their website http://www.bangalorewalks.com for details)

I have learned many things from Thiruvady walks and tried to work it out in my Nature walks (I have taken out few hundred people so far), while Pradeep Krishen’s book is a treasure. When birders go for a walk they talk only about birds and miss the trees and insects, while tree walkers don’t see the birds at all!! So it is important that you keep changing the groups and terrain.  

Few lines from the poem The Sounds of the Trees by Robert Frost 

Sometimes when I watch trees sway,  From the window or the door.  I shall set forth for somewhere,  I shall make the reckless choice Some day when they are in voice  And tossing so as to scare  The white clouds over them on.  I shall have less to say,  But I shall be gone.

Sarus cranes: the tallest flying birds

 

Sarus cranes are seriously tall birds towering about 5.9feet, but rather than intimidating presence they are self effacing to the point of shy. If you are travelling in north India by train, in particular the rice belt of UP (it also is the State bird of UP), keep an eye out for Sarus cranes, you are very likely to see a pair or atleast hear the characteristic trumpet calls. Sarus is India’s only resident breeding crane specie and prefers marshy wetlands, the name Sarus comes from Sanskrit ‘Sarhans’ meaning birds of lake. These are Vulnerable species and are found in patches of central India and limited regions in East Asia and strips of northern Australia. Sarus crane (Grus antigone) was once a well known sight in India, though in recent times it has declined rapidly. A survey in 1980s pegged the numbers at 12,000 while by late 1990s it had reduced to as low as 2000. I am not privy to latest figures, it must be precariously low. Less than 2000 is not Vulnerable, it is Critically Endangered, I guess IUCN needs to update on this one. The main cause of decline seems to be wetland destruction, these birds are generally found where industrial and urban sprawl has not taken place, and where agricultural practices are still traditional. The shift to cultivation of sugarcane, indiscriminate use of pesticide and criss-crossing power cables seem to be having a detrimental effect. Cranes are indicator species, indicating the health of wetlands and ecosystem. 

The zoological name Grus antigone is quite interesting. In Greek mythology Antigone is the daughter of Oedipus, she defied masculine authority, though she ended up killing herself. Fidelity is one factor that has seen to it that this bird is treated with care since time immemorial by Indians, not to forget it was the pain of the Sarus crane that inspired Valmiki to write Ramayan. British crusaders though had different take on affairs of the world (they still do, with ‘sexed up’ versions!!) and went on shooting spree, even keeping records as matter of pride. There is a novel by Khushwant Singh I Shall Not Hear the Nightingale wherein the central character is instigated to kill the Sarus crane “…if you are going to funk shooting birds, you will not do much when it comes to shooting Englishmen. You will say ‘why kill this poor chap, his widow and children will weep’ or ‘his mother will be sad’…this is what is meant by baptism by blood; get used to the idea of shedding it. Steel your heart against sentiments of kindness and pity. They have been undoing of our nation. We are too soft.”  

Jehangir the Mughal king was an avid observer of avian specie so much so many have pointed out that he would have done remarkably well, and happier man, as the head of BNHS or curator of a natural history museum. He had a keen temperament of a scientist, he tried personal observations and experimental approaches to understand natural phenomenon. Here his observation of nesting Sarus cranes “…a strange thing is that on the other days the pair of Saras cranes took five or six turns sitting on their eggs, but during this twenty four hour period while it was raining and cold, the male sat on the eggs to keep them warm continuously from dawn until midday. From the midday until the morning of the next day the female sat continuously –lest the eggs are damaged or spoiled by the cold while they were getting up and sitting down. In short, what a human being comprehends by the guidance of his reason animals do by an instinct made innate in them by eternal wisdom. Even stranger is the fact that at the beginning they kept the eggs next to each other under their breasts, but after fourteen or fifteen days had passed they made enough space between the eggs so there wouldn’t be too much heat and eggs wouldn’t be spoiled…”    (from The Jahangirnama) 

(the picture of painting herein is a miniscule portion of a Pahari miniature (1750-60), taken at National Museum, Delhi)

 

Stopping by the Woods

I was reading Stopping by the Woods on a Sunday Morning, it was one of the earliest articles written (1930) by Salim Ali where he exhibits skills required in tracking bird nest. He meticulously locates nests of Purple-rumped Sunbird, Yellow-eyed Babbler, Tailorbird, Fantail Flycatcher, Common Iora and Baya in the outskirts of Mumbai. Notes Salim Ali “…the trick of locating nests, therefore lies not so much in traversing miles of likely country as in keeping an ever-watchful eye as you slowly saunter along, and patiently waiting for the birds to give away their secrets of their own accord”. He also writes “we shall select some Sunday morning late in August for a jaunt into the exquisite country surrounding the city. The heaviest blast monsoon is blown over, and we may now look forward without undue optimism to fine weather. The air is delightfully cool, the sky thinly overcast; banks of threatening nimbus drift across the heavens resulting only in occasional drizzles which help to subdue the uncomfortable steamy vapour that begins to rise immediately after the sun peeps out of his cloudy veil”…. “A monsoon ramble through the woods will delight anyone who has the eyes to see and the soul to wonder at the romance and charm of this other world within our world. The electrification of the suburban railways has thrown the delightful country in the environs of Bombay within the comfortable and speedy reach of everybody. To the lover of the out-of-doors, the opportunities are such as might rightly be the envy of the less fortunate dwellers of almost every one of the other large cities in the country. Yet, how few are there who will sacrifice their Sunday morning sleep.”  

Reading this piece ofcourse reminded me of Robert Frost, the title is undoubtedly influenced by one of his famous poems Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening. The last few lines you could find at the table side of Nehru at Teenmurthi Bhavan indeed that is how I first heard about this poem.

  

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sounds the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.