DAILY PHOTO: Monkey Love
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I’ve seen butterflies and moths that had patterns evolved to mimic the eyes of other animals at a butterfly house in a botanical gardens, but this is the first time I’ve seen it in the wild–which is to say in the stairwell of our central Bangalore apartment building. This moth thought the perfect place to exploit its owl-like eyes and “feather pattern” would be on the white marble floor inside a building. Evolution only gets one so far.
If you’ve ever seen the kung-fu movie Curse of the Golden Flower, there’s a scene in the Forbidden City where these vivid yellow flowers fill the central courtyard. Cubbon Park is a little like that right now.The tree responsible is called the Tree of Gold (Tabebuia Argentea.) It’s a transplant from South America and has a relatively short blossoming season during which its flowers are thick as can be.
The Crystal Palace at Lal Bagh gardens, which is normally roped off and empty, has been packed brimming with flowers for the annual Republic Day Flower Show that ends today.
It would be slightly more enjoyable if security wasn’t threatening to wallop one with a stick if one loiters for a second. You can see it as many times as you can fit in a day, but you must keep moving along. It’s a one way flow, so if you don’t have the desire to go through twice (once on either side) I’d recommend going on the south side (farthest from the main entrance.) For some reason the crowd was about half on that side (probably because no one anticipated the layout would make you do two half loops instead of one full loop.) Why they did it, I have no idea, but the flowers were pretty.
Wind kicks at her hem.
The skirt flaps and snaps.
White cotton surrendering
to stiff seaside gusts.
A palm shoots to thigh
to bar the immodest scene
of goose-bumped flesh.
II.
A fishing boat chugs through the sound.
Puttering on sputtering engines
–then silence and drift.
A surefooted seamen stands and slings
a net that splays open like pizza dough.
It lands gently on shimmering seas,
and sinks into green-blue waters in slow motion.
Trying to snare an unsuspecting catch.
III.
Snorkelers ride the swells
like drifting corpses.
Legs unkicking
Arms unstroking
Mesmerized by a new world below
Awe expires from tubes,
rising and evaporating in sun-warmed air
IV.
Sailboats rock like metronomes–
masts counting out a rhythm,
a planetary pulse
V.
Trudging ashore,
retreating seas pull sand underfoot
He leans into the trudge,
his body-weight barely defeating the sea’s suction.
VI.
Red and white lanterns drift aloft.
Slanting up into night skies over the bay.
Light flickers and dances
before flashing into cinder
that will fall silently into churning waves.
VII.
Water gurgles in rocky sumps at the sea’s edge.
The tiny caverns floods like a heart chamber,
scurrying metallic green crabs flee out onto the rocks.
No two tides are identical–nature surprises even veterans.