there's something about the mood of this photo that i love. is he trying to peek at me through the leaves? or is he bowing his head shyly, hoping i'll leave him alone?

"put that camera down, lady!!" he seemed to be crowing ever so impressively at me. i did, but only after getting this shot. 

Yes, quite.

Being in a sober place doesn't necessarily mean being sad.
Being happy isn't just about laughing or being in a chirpy mood.
Being content and quiet once in a while just means you're calmly, peacefully, implicitly happy. 
This I realized, however, after a bit of brain-searching.
Saturday was such a day for me. I felt rather low, or to be more accurate- not in the highest spirits. I wondered why- since I had nothing to be sad about or to brood over. But then, I wasn't sad. I couldn't call myself happy either. What was I? And this inability to understand what was wrong with me soured my mood further. It was only later I found that I needed to give myself a break from the hyper-happiness and enjoy the silent-happiness once in a while too. Nothing wrong with it, provided I don't lead myself into too monotonous a mood wherein I do end up feeling low. No, I don't want to be an ever solemn Dalai Lama. But I'll know better than to curse the lack of high spirits next time I'm in that mood.
Being mad is, and always will be my favourite state of mind. When I say mad, I mean the kind of mood that would make you say things like:
"You can see the moonlight dancing off my watchman's bald head like car headlights in the sea."
"I've been peeing so often, I'm going to set up camp in the bathroom!"
"Breeze blows because there's air in the air."
"While making maggi noodles I realized that adding a solute to water increases the boiling point of water."
"There are so many cats in this house, I could pick up 'meow' faster than German."
"Do you see those floating while bubbles in the blue, blue sky?"
and so on and so forth....
Yep, it is definitely the best mood to be in. But I can't spend all my days rambling on like that, can I? So I'll just accept the fact that I need to mix it up a bit with the occasional Dalai Lama. Peace be unto all. Ho Hum. 

Zzz?

Daydreams are intriguing. It's a curious, half-awake, semi-subconscious state of mind. Quite often, daydreams are far more exciting than our night time dreams. Partly because you get to monitor what you dream about. But there I contradict myself. I think the best part about dreaming at night is the "gee, I did not expect that" factor. Waking up in the morning and trying to piece together from memory all the little bits of my dream, I'm often lead to what made me have that dream. And that something is generally one that would go unnoticed in a non-dream scenario.

When it comes to daydreaming, there's a fine line between 'I was thinking....' and 'I had a dream...'
The stuff your mind can come up with when left idle is insane! Sometimes I feel I should carry a little book around with me and write about any funny daydreams I have. It'll be fun to go through them some time later. I remember one peculiar reverie wherein I was chasing some large sized monkey-like creature. There was some slow music score to this number and I vaguely remember some dancing.

Daydreaming is an art. It's the art of emptying your mind of all the cacophony and setting it free. I've noticed that I tend to daydream most when I look out a window and fix my eyes on something relatively uninteresting. It's almost as though that moment was all my mind was waiting for and it takes that opportunity and plunges itself into a world of imagination. What can I say? My mind has a mind of its own. I just sit around waiting for it to surprise me.

Letters

I’ve always wanted to have a pen pal. I love to write letters to people and I absolutely love receiving them. The idea of having someone, somewhere writing to you, whom you’ve never met or seen before is just so deliciously tempting. My parents grew up having pen pals and their stories make me jealous. Today, when everyone has an email id, no one wants to sit down and put a pen to paper. It’s just sad, really. It’s so exciting to get something in the post! And I’d think it would be just as exciting for someone else receiving one I wrote them. (Or at least surprising) But then again, it’s almost impossible to get anyone to write you a handwritten letter. In fact, very few take the trouble to email, let alone write a real one down. 

There’s something special about a handwritten letter. It has a lot more heart to it.  It makes you feel like you matter enough to that person for them to write to you.  Also, it’s fun! When you send someone an email, you know that it’s been sent immediately and that that someone may read it just 10 mins after you’ve sent it. So you take it for granted that they’d reply right away and there’s no waiting involved. There’s no real novelty to it. But when you post a letter to someone, you know it will take a few days to get there, another day or so for that person to reply and then another few for you to receive your reply. All in all, around a week. The anticipation of that reply just makes you appreciate it that much more. It becomes the highlight of your day. 

 

A book I like to read off and on is one called 84 Charing Crossroads. It’s a collection of letters sent back and forth between Helene Hanff, an American scriptwriter and the people of a bookstore, Marks and Co. in London. They corresponded for many years before even seeing a photograph of each other. The writing is so witty and it’s fascinating to see the contrast in characters of those writing. Helene Hanff- an informal, satirical, eccentric writer. Frank Doel (one of Marks and Co. who wrote extensively to her)- a more formal, courteous and pleasantly humourous writer. The correspondence between Helene and the bookshop was primarily business, as she asked them for books and they’d send them to her(with an invoice, of course.) But the lovely friendships that came of it and the joy they brought into each others’ lives with their letters makes me wish I had someone to write to all the more. 

I’ve often wondered how and where to find a pen pal. Is there someone out there who longs for the same, old-school correspondence with another unknown someone? If so, I’d like to find that someone. Yes, I would.

So true.

Soft kitty
Warm kitty
Little ball of fur.
Happy kitty
Sleepy kitty
purr purr purr.

Squirrel!

Ever had that feeling, when you've been studying chemistry for what seems to be eternity, that you'd rather look at dog poo than your text book? I had that feeling yesterday. But then! The clouds parted and the sun shone  through! There, on the tree outside my window were two happy squirrels prancing about on a jolly tree. A much better sight than dog poo.(not to mention my text book) "What's so exciting about a squirrel?", you may ask. Well, nothing in particular, apart from the fact that they're terribly adorable and not so common in Mumbai. But then again, it's exciting to see any animal apart from stray dogs and cows. (although I love to see them around too...sightings of them lack that element of surprise.) I would appear somewhat mental if I were to suddenly stop in my tracks while walking on the road and point in astonishment, "(gasp!) A cow!!".

A new life- in the making

I spent last weekend at my grandparents' house where we were forced to play host to a couple. They made themselves cozy in an empty pot and there they laid an egg. Although the subsequent hatching of that egg will stink up the window and mess up the pot completely,  this miracle of nature called out to our warmer sides and so we let it be. So keeping my fingers crossed and hoping that no crow will see that dependent egg before it hatches and be tempted to pinch it, I should have pictures of a baby pigeon soon! Till then, here's the mum and her darling egg.

Golden Oriole

A quick, lucky sighting of this spectacular fellow at close quarters was a perfect start to the day! He was so close, I'm surprised he didn't fly off before the shutter went off. Look at its eyes! Aren't they just gorgeous?? (well, eye...) Almost as big as a pigeon, this guy was stunningly bright among the yellow and green leaves of that tree. It was a sudden movement on his part and lucky timing on mine that allowed me to spot him. He was, otherwise, rather well hidden. 

Wodehouse Madhouse

Dear, dear, P. G. Wodehouse,
You are ingenious.You are marvelous. You are brilliant. You crack me up like none other. Perhaps the best compliment I could give you, is that you are mad. Your madness is what makes you so incredibly fantastic. What wonderfully funny characters you've brought to life: Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, Augustus Fink-nottle, Aunt Agatha, Monty Bodkins,The one and only Jeeves, The potty ol' Duke of Dunstable, The Earl of Emsworth and his upright sister Constance, The Empress of Blandings in all her slop-mouthed glory, Psmith and Uncle Fred to name a few. You're a nut. And What ho! You're the best nut there is! Your writing and humour seems as effortless as falling down into a pool of mossy muck. Your metaphors are as delightful as the sound of popcorn popping in a deep pan. Your stories are the spring of springs in a land of winters. You are, like Jeeves, only even more so- Inimitable.
If I had a top hat on, I'd take it off to you.

Just one of the many who love you,
Ishika

Lonavala- Day 3

My heart- wrenched.

Bakri Id is a festival I've attempted to understand. However, it's one I have failed to. Every year, thousands of goats are brutally slaughtered. A ritual practiced by the Muslims, wherein they 'sacrifice' a goat or sheep in the name of God. The goats are bred, brought up, fed, fattened and in fact, loved by these people all year round only to face their inevitable fate. I definitely think it's high time they came up with a better alternative to these ridiculously barbaric practices. This mass slaughter is simply not done. It's inhumane and bloody. It's foul and morbid. It breaks my heart every year to see a bunch of goats tied together a few days before this blasted day, being escorted to their respective murder houses. If only they knew... Today I happened to see some terribly dreadful sights. Carcasses of goats lying on the ground. The details are too painful to describe. I was left nauseated with a sickening knot in my stomach.

To all those innocent goats who were made to sacrifice their lives in the name of God, I mourn for you. May your souls rest in peace. 

Egrets in the field

You must not know too much, or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and water-craft; a certain free margin, and even vagueness - perhaps ignorance, credulity - helps your enjoyment of these things... ~Walt Whitman

Day 2 Pictures

Day 2

After the entrancing sunset on day 1, I was eager to get up early to see the sun rise. I woke at 6am. It was still dark out. Well, the dull-blue, morning dark. So I went outside, only to be hit hard by the sharp wind. It was probably three times as windy now than when I went to sleep. It was blowing hard- almost like it was trying purposefully to tip me over. I dug my hands deep into my pockets and tried to slink into my jacket and cover as much of myself as I could. Just when I thought I was getting comfortable with it, another brisk gust of air would take me by surprise, making me escape back into the neck of the jacket. I kept waiting for the glorious sun to emerge, my chair appropriately facing the east. But it seemed like it was going to take a while. It was light out quite some time before we got a glimpse of the sun; since the two tall hills in front of us were blocking it.(I realized this only later) It was 7:30 when it came up from behind them. It was a very different scene from when the sun went down. It was bright with a growing glow. It didn’t give the sky any hues; it just threw its light everywhere. We sat in the welcome warmth of the sun out on the deck as we drank our tea.

After some early-rise inspired yoga with stretches and backbends, off we went back to the fireplace for breakfast. We were a little early so we decided to have some fun and work up an appetite. The gorgeous, ancestral fig tree that stands majestically opposite the fireplace with its textured, thick branches called out to us. That tree was such fun to climb! A huge, broad bark at the base broke off into a number of twisted, strong branches that allowed clambering up to different parts of the tree. It had many grooves and bends that provided footholds or even seats. Climbing up that tree and finding a nice, comfy perch up there was thorough delight. After that, breakfast was eventful; considering I put salt in my corn flakes and couldn’t stop laughing about it. It looked like powdered sugar!

 We were given a laminated copy of a Google map showing all the various trail routes in the area. We chose the ‘Blue Trail’ and started off. We walked till we came to a bench in the forest and sat down. It was quiet all around, save the chirping of birds and sound of insects. After a few failed attempts to spot the birds we could hear, we resumed the trek. We found a snake skin. It was about 18inches, transparent with white scales and fragile. Almost felt like touching really thin and flimsy plastic. Along the way, we confused routes and continued on the ‘Green Trail’ instead. We went along until we came to a stream. It was so beautiful. It wasn’t in an open clearing or very prominent. It was a medium sized stream- icy cool water running between the rocks making the most delicious, tumbling sounds. There were shady trees all around it and some bigger rocks along its sides. Off came the shoes and in went the feet! Oh it was wonderfully soothing. So chill and clear. From there, we climbed slightly upwards and came out into a field. From that shady, cool forest pit-stop, this was totally different scenery. We were in open air, with tall grass growing all around, some trees too, and the hills climbing up from behind us. Up front we could see the canopies T2 and T3 rising up from the trees. (Ours was T1).  Ah the sun! I loved it that day. I walked into the tall, prickly grass and lay down. I threw my hands back, covered my face with my cap and just stayed there. Well, not for too long anyway… That was the last part of our unguided morning trail and we found our way back to the reception where we met Sophie. She gave us 3 animal hunts to do. They were like treasure hunts; the main theme was that we were tracking imaginary animals instead. Each hunt came with smart clues we had to crack. Each clue lead to a different place, where we had to find a painted picture clue. She gave us a compass, a pen and a puzzle along with the clues and maps for each hunt. We returned to the canopy and decided to have a light lunch up there instead of going back down. We’d do the hunts after that.

We had a nature trail with Sophie at 4:30. We were joined by a very nice couple who were staying at the Machan. We started off from where we ended our morning trail. All along the way, Sophie spoke about the plants, trees, animals, insects and fungi found there. I have been on trails before with a guide, but this one was especially fun. Reason: Sophie! She was a very entertaining escort. She didn’t simply state facts and move on; she tried to get us to ask questions, guess answers and mixed it all with her humour. It was a lighthearted trek which ended at the sunset point- unfortunately past sunset. But the view was still astounding. We all walked back, crunching the dried leaves under our feet as we went along. I learned that Sophie had studied ecology, environmental management and botany. A lot like what I wanted to study. Meeting Sophie and knowing about her had given me a certain confidence in the path I had chosen for myself. A confidence that I can study those subjects and have a fulfilling career. I returned to the canopy, a little smarter than before.

After dinner, we had a rather special time with the stars. The couple who joined us for the trail earlier graciously invited us to share their crow’s nest that night for star gazing. So with Sophie leading the way, we climbed up the stairs to the very highly perched crow’s nest. After the previous night, I didn’t think the night sky could look any more beautiful. I was mistaken, of course. From that height, the night was even more majestic. We went over all the constellations. It was brilliant; to be able to see all those stars up there so clearly is a far dream otherwise.

Before saying goodnight to everyone, a plan was made to go climb the nearby hill next morning. It was one of the taller ones. I said I was ecstatically game and returned to the canopy looking forward to it. That night was terribly windy. The sound of the sheets filled the air completely. But it had been a long day, so we drifted off into a sound sleep despite it.

Pictures from Day1