JOIN USRendezvous with nature
Every homecoming holds a special significance for me. My winter visits are flush with childhood memories of Christmas parties and picnics on sunny hillsides. During Durga puja, a whiff from the jungle is all that it takes for me to taste the earthiness of the mushrooms we’d pick from the jungle floor, as kids. But it’s most invigorating to be in McCluskieganj during spring when the festival of nature is on in full swing.
.JPG)
The spring carnival unfolds in our backyard, where the mulberry tree stands festooned with clusters of juicy ripe mulberry. Beyond the mulberry tree, grow a few plum trees, that fruit in spring. But pear trees had just started blooming and their delicate white blossoms were abuzz with bees tipsy from their sweet nectar and pleasant scent. Trees unable to boast of delectable fruit made up with resplendent blooms.
Tall silk cotton trees had a crimson canopy and two Palash trees looked striking in their fiery orange headdresses. The emergent banyan, with a cluster of aerial prop roots, has seen many seasons. Its figs were still a pale green, but the thick, woody trunk accommodates a diversity of avian species. As their lilts trickled through the deep, mysterious depths of its crevices, like tales trailing back from a bygone era — the banyan reminded me of a doting grandmother who holds her large, joint family together in a loving embrace.
Gorgeous black-hooded orioles and scarlet minivets weaved in and out of its glossy leaves while intimidating black kites and majestic Indian grey hornbills perched on its sturdy branches. Ravishing green rose-ringed parrots and leafbirds stopped by to catch their breath and fluttered off when they sensed me. But the spotlight was on the mulberry tree, where the spring feast was spread. A group of Brahminy Starlings with creamy bodies and a loose black crest occupied an entire branch. Like plump dewdrops, they hung upside-down from lobed leaves and pecked at the fruit. Nearby, a black and speckled Asian koel couple dined. Their fiery eyes flickered like embers at the sight of this annual feast. A group of effervescent red vented bulbuls pranced about the branches.
Pee-plo, pee-pee-plo they whistled and pecked at one mulberry, then at another, like fussy customers. I heard a brown-headed barbet and traced its euphonious kutrook-kutrook-kutrook to the top of the tree, where it perched contentedly, perhaps feeling a bit sluggish after its heavy, saccharine meal.
.JPG)
The topmost branch of the mulberry tree sagged as an Indian Grey Hornbill couple descended. I tried to be inconspicuous, but they are not used to being watched. I froze as their red iris peered into me. They flew off but soon returned. In the few hours that I’d been around, I’d seen over a dozen Indian Grey Hornbills take off from the banyan tree and glide across the compound, gracefully.
Below them, a playful Indian palm squirrel scooted up and down the branches, claiming his share and a pair of purple sunbirds that had been busy feeding on the nectar of red Powerpuff flowers nearby, made a quick dive in and circled about the mulberry in a frenzied swirl, as if inviting me to join in. From a branch above my head, I stretched my arm and broke a large, serrated leaf. Twisting it into a cone, I filled it with ripe mulberry.
The birds paused for a moment to watch me savour my helping of nature’s blessing and returned to their own. There was enough for everyone.
It remedied me of our beloved Mahatma Gandhi’s words, “The world has enough for everyone’s need, but not enough for everyone’s greed.”