Sooty be her second name, not Treepie

What do you do
when you see
an arboreal rufescent dream
perched on a banyan blanket?
You’d want to cuddle with her
under her plummage
and sing to her calm sea’s lullaby.
Her beautiful head,
sooty be her second name
and not Treepie.
And where did she get that silver so grey,
makes me go mad.
‘Give me your colours’, I tell her.
She responds,
a sweet string of ko-ki-la
and away does she fly.

Road Trip -2 Paradip, spotted a Rufous Treepie.


Somewhere in the Sunderbans
a little Rosefinch
rose from sleep and chirped,
asking if the other birds
had seen her favourite birder
who’s stopped coming to see her.

Road Trip Series 1 (West Bengal)

Road Trippin – 4670 miles along the coast

4670 miles along the coast
I have meticulously packed,
camera and microphones
cables, cards and chords.
I am leaving behind a few things,
randomization of worries and distractions
that yield just black frames
that add nothing to the film on life.
‘Black’ in timeline is necessary though
at the start and at the end,
similar to zero at birth
and zero at death.
But in between, black is just black,
and my love for colours
has me pleading the universe
to grant me tetrachromacy.

I have swaddled in my heart
warmth of a bird’s plumage
and nature’s love for itself.
I am not a banyan tree anymore, fixed and rigid
I am a mangrove tree
leaving behind roots of the past,
constantly growing new roots,
reaching from A to B, B to C
from old patterns to new oddity.

Metta. An RHCP favourite for you.