flamingos

Life is not a box of chocolates; it is a flock of flamingos

I have started to go bird-watching again. My body seems to have regained some of its strength. So, I have been visiting nearby bird-friendly areas; to re-acclimatize myself to their sights, smells and sounds. But, this is not the part of the narrative in which the protagonist reconnects with something he loves. And miraculously – everything gets better. No, no, no. You must have my life confused with a lousy indie film.

The summer of 2017 has its pratfalls. I am angry that my 91-year-old grandpa had to undergo a surgery a few days ago. The last mile should not hurt this much. I am also not thrilled that my trusted camera has decided to call it quits. To make matters more unpleasant, I have been advised against traveling to hill stations until October.

I feel confined, sweaty and unsexy. The weather is getting worse. Life is not a box of chocolates. Because, often, nice things like cocoa butter and sugar have nothing to do with what we go through. But then, there are silver linings. And sometimes, they come in pink.

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A long-legged zest for dawn

A lagoon yawns in
watercolour prints, as
spindly ghosts, bathed in
pink, like tall orders
of strawberry cream,
spread their wings
and sing their songs,
haunting sepia skies
at the break of dawn.

I had spent a good deal of time and energy with Greater Flamingos in 2014.  The first time I ever spotted them was during last summer. They had descended from the skies to the Annamalaicheri backwaters. A month or two later, I spotted them at the Pallikaranai Marsh. Again, towards the end of the year, during a satellite launch at the Pulicat Lake.

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