Tag Archives: nature
DAILY PHOTO: Kung fu Birdy
DAILY PHOTO: Pink Coxcomb
DAILY PHOTO: Republic Day Flower Show
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.
Seven Seaside Poems
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.
DAILY PHOTO: Fog Rolls in for a Crab
DAILY PHOTO: Half a Tree is Better than None
I took this photo yesterday in Cox Town as we were walking over to the United Charities Bazaar (a great and highly recommended event.) It’s a tree that juts out into the road next to a small Hindu temple. When they put in a flyover, they cut away quite a bit of the tree, but the part that remains seems to be thriving.
When one moves to a new country, one experiences a wide variety of cultural insights. All of a sudden, this invisible thing called culture becomes visible. There are, of course, many norms that grate on one’s nerves with respect to the culture one has been transplanted into. In the vast majority of cases, there isn’t anything inherently wrong with the new culture–they are just differences, just shocks to one’s system. There are a few cultural proclivities that one can fairly say are objectively inferior, and it’s a testament to India that they are trying to fix these problems (e.g. by outlawing the caste, by trying to prevent killing off of girl children, etc.)
However, if one is honest with oneself, one also gains insight into one’s native culture, and its particular inferiorities. As I said, we take culture so for granted that we don’t necessarily even see the peculiarities of our own culture. One of the Indian norms that I find most laudable is the preservation of living things to the extent possible. Put alternatively, one of the norms of my own culture that I’ve come to find most dismaying is the belief that anything that causes a person the least inconvenience must die immediately.
I imagine that some Westerners in India find it to be a pain to have to step out into the street when walking down the sidewalk because there are occasionally ten-foot diameter trees hogging the whole sidewalk. In the US, they’d just cut down the big tree and replace it with a dwarf tree of some sort that would never give them a problem–and if it did, just get out the saw.
POEM: No Chunky Monkey
there’s nothing sadder than a monkey
who’s grown pudgy, blown up chunky,
and become a Mars Bar junkie
just cause we’re genetically entwined
makes it neither right nor kind
to give them a bootilicious behind
when swinger’s branches threaten break
and under foot the earth it quakes
it’s then too late to lay off the cakes
when dealing with our friends furry
remember no ice cream or curry
no panicked food drop and scurry
DAILY PHOTO: Albino Black Buck
There’s something about this picture that strikes me as not of this world. The albino creature contrasted against the earth-tone environment. One expects to see a deer in a verdant patch where it can meet its grazing needs, not on barren, stony soil. Then there are those wicked screw-bit horns, seeming a little out of place on bambi–like fangs on a butterfly.
POEM: Awkward Bird Conversation
Three little birdies sat on a rail.
Two little birdies spoke of no avail.
“Sam, you’re just not one of us.”
“I’m not a bird, like you or Gus?”
“No. Some birds just don’t go together.”
“You mean the ones without any feathers.”
“No. Some birds are just kind of unique.”
“Yeah, I once saw one without any beak.
“Some birds are from very different type eggs.”
“We all have two legs, so what’s wrong–I begs.”
“It’s not that there’s anything wrong, per se–
It’s just that–well–we’re green, and you’re grey.”
“So you won’t sit on a rail, preen, or be seen
with any bird, unless its color is green?”
“Well, it just sounds silly when you put it that way.”










