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Monday, December 12, 2011

The Other Goa


Goa…golden sands, sapphire blue waters, lazy siestas, river cruises, adventure sports... When I say ‘Goa’, is this the vision that is conjured up in your mind’s eye? I don’t blame you! I had the same impression of Goa, before I signed up for Nature India’s ‘Romance with Birds & Butterflies’ trip to India’s smallest state in the first week of December. Birdwatching? What birds (or butterflies for that matter) could possibly find beaches alluring?

I was amazed when I was handed the list of birds found in Goa. More than 400 species and many of them endemic to the Western Ghats. And surprised that Goa has two major wildlife reserves – the Bhagwan Mahaveer and the Bondla sanctuaries.

We were put up at Nature’s Nest or The Canopy. The resort near the Bhagwan Mahaveer WLS, literally ‘nestles’ in rolling acres of green, with rustic cottages set amidst swaying coconut palms and betel nut trees with pepper vines winding around them. Lots of hibiscus bushes with flowers in every colour ranging from pale pink to deep red provide a touch of flaming colour. And shocking pink ‘powder puff’ flowers abounded, with crimson-backed and purple sunbirds creating a racket among them. It was marvellous to wake up to the ‘plink-plink’ of dew falling on the tin roof and the melodious warbling of the Malabar whistling thrush, instead of the honking of cars and the screeching of brakes. The experience of stepping out of the cottage into a world of swirling white mist is indescribable.

A welcome drink of sweet ‘n’ sour kokum sherbet and an introduction to Pankaj Lad, the young ‘n’ lively owner of the resort and then it was on to our home away from home for the next four days. An odd number of women in the group meant that like in Kutch, I had a cottage to myself (J). Nothing to beat not having to share…!

Adesh said that we would see six species of kingfishers in Goa and sure enough, during our late afternoon bird walk after a cup of piping hot ginger chai, we saw the blue-eared kingfisher! The striking crimson-fronted barbet was another bonus. Not to be confused with the crimson-breasted or coppersmith barbet, the cfb has a complete vermillion halo around its face and its call is not the loud, metallic ‘thunk, thunk, thunk’ of the csb but a softer, more continuous ‘thunk’.

The night walk proved to be amazing. After trudging through waist-high dried grass and stumbling over rocks, we entered a kind of open plateau, where NI said we would spot the Jerdon’s nightjar and the Indian grey nightjar. As we plonked down to wait, the sharp beam of the flashlight soon picked out the glinting eyes of a grey nightjar sitting motionless on a stump. Yessss!! What a fantastic view through the spotting scope – one could see the streaking clearly. The bird was completely frozen in place giving the shutterbugs (oh, why are there always so many of them??) a golden chance to get some close-ups.

Then back for a good night’s sleep in time to rise early for our visit to the Bondla Sanctuary. A lovely, lovely time was had, especially stopping in the woods for a hearty feast of omelette-pav/kande pohe, bananas and hot tea! Could one ask for more than breakfast with birds and butterflies? Wished I could do this everyday of my life J. Sighhhh! L

On the way to the reserve, NI (and Pankaj) kept searching for the Malabar trogon. They said they heard the call but of the bird there was no sign. We did see other birds including the white-cheeked barbet (another endemic of the WG), a bounty of bulbuls including the crimson-throated bulbul (the state bird of Goa), the white-browed bulbul and the yellow-browed bulbul (not forgetting those ‘common’ red-vented and the yellow-vented bulbuls!). The Indian grey hornbill and the Malabar pied hornbill, the hoopoe, shrikes…

Behind the forest restaurant where we had lunch, was a pipe spewing waste water – no, don’t wrinkle your nose – it was a happy hunting ground for gaggles of jungle babblers and believe it or not, the orange-headed ground thrush! There was a mongoose which had its lair nearby and a crimson-backed sunbird had built its tiny nest on a shrub just below the window of the restaurant. Then! What should we see but…the Malabar trogon!! First the female and then the ‘more beautiful’ male (quote Adesh!). Wow! We just couldn’t take our eyes off and I was transported back to Eaglenest where we saw Ward’s trogon. Then, too, we were all falling over each other for a glimpse!

We also saw the vernal hanging parrot having an upside-down meal of flowers and berries and the pied flycatcher shrike.

The trogon was the high point of the day. We were too tired to go on a night trail, but Adesh showed us three little tailorbirds sleeping on a twig overhung by a banana leaf! Snug as a bug in a rug! They had their eyes tight shut and looked like balls of fluff. He also showed us a sleeping brown shrike…it seems birds lock their talons around the branch to avoid falling off.

The next day, it was off to another sanctuary, the Bhagwan Mahaveer WLS. On the way, we stopped off to see – the Sri Lanka frogmouth. Yesss…NI had discovered a pair in roosting in the thick grass of the scrubland we had visited earlier for the nightjars. We went one by one very quietly and there they were – the larger brown female and the slightly smaller grey male! They gazed back at us with unblinking, great yellow eyes. The wide mouth was edged with bristles. A rare sighting because at this time of the year, frogmouths are not very vocal. Thumbs up to NI, tick bites notwithstanding, for taking the trouble to discover the spot and show us the birds.

The Mahaveer WLS was a revelation because one doesn’t realise that a substantial part of the Western Ghats, which as NI frequently emphasised, is a biodiversity hotspot (one among 25 all over the world), lies in southern Goa, contiguous with Karnataka. Known earlier as the Mollem Game Reserve, it was declared a sanctuary in 1969. Spread over 240 sq km, the sanctuary is home to a number of bird and animal species. We saw the greater racket-tailed drongo, peacocks, the white-breasted swamphen, the Indian pitta, the pompadour green pigeon and the Asian paradise flycatcher, in all his white-tailed glory.

A glimpse of the jungle owlet (almost a Pandharpuri sighting!), the grey wagtail and the large pied wagtail, and the Blyth’s reed warbler.

There were so many large and small streams and patches of water all over that it was possible to sight warblers, thrushes, tits and kingfishers as well as waders like redshanks and sandpipers almost everywhere.

The third day, early in the morning, we saw the Siberian stonechat, the thick-billed flowerpecker, the rufous treepie (Adesh chided me for not recognising it despite ‘it being my 13th trip with Nature India’!), the hanging parrot once more, the Malabar starling, and ashy woodswallows a-plenty. Neha, on her first such trip, remarked that there were so many ‘Malabar this’ and ‘Malabar that’ she expected to land on ‘Malabar hill’ pretty soon J.

The last day drew near (as all good things must come to an end). We were to go on the Zuari river cruise and then later to Maina lake for a festival of waders. Because of the sudden spring tide, the boat could not carry all of us at one go. and we got split into two groups (below 50 in one and above 50 in the other!!). So the group I was in visited Maina lake first and the Zuari cruise came later. On the way to the lake with Adesh, we stopped to see black drongos, the Indian roller, the grey heron, scarlet minivet (spotted by our driver Brian), white eyed buzzard, streak throated munias and small green bee-eaters. At the lake awaited huge flocks of lesser whistling teals, marsh sandpipers, green and redshanks, cotton pygmy geese, ringed plovers, grey heron, purple heron and purple moorhens. The lake was covered with water lilies. What a serene setting near a church… Terns, lapwings and whimbrels…wherever one turned, there was a wader engaged in a busy quest for food, or just standing and staring!

The sojourn on the river Zuari was breathtaking to say the least. Miles and miles of clear, pellucid green water, with lush mangroves on the either shore…not only did we see six species of kingfisher as Nature India had promised, we saw some amazing night herons, the osprey, brahminy kites, and the white-bellied sea eagle. First, the not-so-common common kingfisher, then the very common white-breasted kingfisher, the stork-billed…then the black-capped kingfisher with its ink-blue feathers, and best of all, the collared kingfisher, which Mr.Kamath our guide said was elusive, but which we sighted out in the open! The only kingfisher we didn’t see was the oriental dwarf.

As we neared the shore, a flying fish leaped up to add to the list of the other ‘winged’ creatures we had seen so far – the ornate flying snake and the flying lizard!

So ended a cruise which I wished would go on forever…a fitting finale to a fantastic experience of a Goa I never knew existed…the other Goa of verdant green forests and beautiful birds and oh, I completely forgot… the butterflies! Cheers, anyway, for Nature India and for the wonderful group that I was part of – the Georges, the Sarvaiyas, Neha, Sucharita, Dr. Sumukh Deodhar and Dr.Rajeev Joshi, Subbu, Santosh of the absolutely amazing voice (he put up a mini-concert of old songs for us one night), Sandeep, Shobha, Nilima, Pankaj, Ramesh the snake-man, Brian and of course our inimitable duo of Adesh and Mandar with whom I have discovered so much of the wonder that is wild India in a short span of three years!

Best of all I am going to kick off 2012 with what I am sure will be another amazing NI trip – to the Great Rann of Kutch…






Wednesday, November 16, 2011

A Great Trip to the little Rann (January 2011)

Every trip that I take with Nature India surpasses the last. The previous one was to Kaas, the plateau of flowers in Satara. I never imagined that flowers as tiny as the nail on my little finger could engross me so much! The vistas of flower carpets in every imaginable colour so enthralled me that I think the accumulated stress of months of urban living just flowed out to be replaced by a calming quietude that remained with me for days afterwards. It made what followed bearable – my mother’s stroke and hospitalisation because of which I could not write about the wonder that was Kaas. In fact, I had even thought of the title: A Khaas Experience!

The Rann of Kutch was on my wishlist (and that one’s a pretty long list!), so I jumped on board the minute I got the email! The drive to Bandra Terminus through those awful roads didn’t dampen my enthusiasm a bit. I reached almost an hour and a half early. I read a little of Stieg Larson’s second book in the over-hyped Millennium Trilogy waiting for 5.30 to arrive. Finally, when I phoned Adesh to ask if he had come, he gave me a nasty little jolt by saying, “What are you doing at the station today? The trip starts tomorrow!!” When I reacted with shock, he said, “I was just joking!” Hmmmm….Adesh and his teasing!

The train arrived and left for Viramgam. We were a group of 14 including Adesh and of course, his Sancho Panza Mandar! There were at least four IT professionals - a couple from Pune, Abhaya and Ameet, young Vaishali and Alok and one engineer in the making, Sahila. Alok I knew from before and I was happy to meet Captain Haridasan and Ritesh again. The bubbly, effervescent flavour was provided by Rakhi and Kavita and of course, good sport Nikhil. We had a cartoonist in our midst, too – Keith Francis – who gifted Captain, who was his room mate, with a lovely caricature drawn on a paper napkin in two minutes flat!

From Viramgam station to the Royal Safari Resorts in Bajana. What a beautiful resort it was! Done up in traditional Kutchi style with an ornate doorway, and individual circular cottages made of red brick and with thatched roofs. The rustic feel was only for the outside. The inside was, surprise, surprise, airconditioned, with fancy taps in the bathroom and a double bed with the softest mattress and pillows imaginable! Even the rajai was so comfy…it was hard to get up in the morning. And the curtains were works of art – embellished with mirrors and embroidery! Great décor all round.

The entire place was magical – with a water lily pond, swimming pool, vast spaces of green grass (few trees though) and even a mini lake which we noticed on our way out of the resort three days later!

After a good breakfast we were off to the Bajana Wetlands. The jeeps were open, the breeze was cool, the company was awesome and the birding was terrific…what more could one ask for? I cannot remember exactly where we saw what, but here’s a general idea of the birdlife.

In one of the wetlands, a feast of flamingoes – more numbers of the lesser and fewer of the greater – but both in fair numbers. What a beautiful rhapsody in every shade of pink! One can just keep on looking at them forever and never tire…There were ducks (pintails, shovellers, godwits, brahminy), teals, coots, greylag geese, grey herons, common cranes, and best of all, the mightly Sarus crane. We saw an endearing family of three (mom, dad and kid) in a field quite by chance. Never-to-be-forgotten sight…

On the way, in a stream choked with rubbish, a veritable armada of painted storks, and when they started walking ponderously, they looked like a bunch of gentlemen in their flashy coat tails out for a stroll! There were egrets keeping them company, too…

On another day, it was a safari on the Rann where we saw the rare desert warbler – trust Adesh’s sharp eyes to spot it even though it was well-camouflaged! The wild asses were, well wild! Just a mere movement in their direction was enough to set them cantering off in the opposite direction. We managed to observe a small herd for quite a while. One of the more timid asses got kicked out and left behind by the others. He stood in solitary silence for a few minutes, till he was joined by a friend and trotted happily away! Mere man ki ass hai tu…and all that (pun supplied by Mohan V!)

On the last day, we were led to an area to see something special. In a tree, who do we spot but a pair of pallid scops owls! Absolutely marvellous camouflage, till they moved their heads and opened their great yellow eyes! In the Rann, another species of owl, the short-eared. We chased it around the Rann, but it kept flying off and sitting at a distance. Finally, we did get a good look through the trusty spotting scope…what would we have done without this fantastic invention?! And glory of glories, we did see Macqueen’s Bustard or the hoobara bustard! It was in Pandharpur (or Alandi, as Adesh wryly remarked), but spotting scope ki jai ho, we saw the pair of them fairly clearly.

I should also mention the educative session we had with Adesh on one safari. He put all the ‘non-photographers’ (and there were only five including me who had these primitive cameras and were not so click happy!) in one jeep and came with us on two occasions. He was wearing his ‘lucky hat’ by the way (see pictures). In one stream under a bridge by the roadside, we saw almost all the common waders and were able to compare them! The marsh sandpiper, the common sandpiper, the wood sandpiper, redshank, greenshank, Temnick’s stint, stilts, ruffs…you name it and it was there, rooting in the sludgy water. We took out the book and had a rocking time looking at the picture and then the bird. What better way to learn! And I must say that Adesh is patience on a monument. I have been on ‘n’ trips with him but I still fumble when it comes to identifying birds which I may have seen any number of times, especially waders and raptors!

And how can I end without mentioning the delicious food? Yummy paneer dishes, tamatar sev ki bhaji, noodles, fried rice, soups, gulab jamuns, icecream, gajar ka halwa…well, you can bet your life that yours truly, truly tucked in! And stole extra dessert helpings as well!! Rakhi will be witness to that!!! Then back to dusty, crowded, dirty, noisy Mumbai…sigh!

Would that I had a little round house on the Rann, with the cool breeze blowing over the vastness, silence my only companion, and the blazing stars to shine down on me at night….

Monday, November 14, 2011

Hand-me-down Pet

       
Three days after he disappeared, my brother said he saw Shippie with a gang of stray dogs, and when he called out to him, Shippie looked at him askance and then trotted away quickly behind his new-found friends without a backward glance.
It had all begun with a bath. Shippie hated baths, as I suspect do most dogs. He would go roll in the mud immediately to rub out the scent of the dog shampoo we so lovingly used on his shaggy coat. We had to literally drag him to the backyard for the Sunday ritual. That morning, he planted his legs a tad too firmly on the ground. He squirmed his head this way and that, and before we knew it, he somehow managed to slip his head out of the collar and away he went in a flash. He didn’t come home that day, or the next. We scoured the colony for him for two whole days, yelling out his name hopefully. It seemed he had fallen off the face of the earth.
After nearly a week on the lam, Shippie came home wearing his battle scars like valour badges, a devil-may-care expression painted on his face. His ears were dripping with blood-gorged ticks and when I finished cleaning him up, he looked like he had fallen into a vat of mercurochrome. I later suspected that he was the father of the pups in the litter delivered by a stray living in the colony club. Two of them had his brown patches and his distinctive pink nose.
When he came to us from a family that was leaving and couldn’t take him along, Shippie was seven – already middle-aged in dog years. We never thought to ask why he had such a weird name or what his breed was. The fact that he wasn’t a cuddly puppy or that we didn’t know his antecedents didn’t matter to us. We were over the moon because we’d always wanted a dog. Which child would mind waking up to a loving lickover every morning, or a sudden nuzzle of a cold nose? Or not look forward to an ecstatic welcome home after school?
My grandmother and grandaunt were irked by the presence of this ‘loathsome’ animal which had the run of the house and the huge garden. The kitchen was out of bounds to Shippie, but sometimes he would streak across it into the yard if the back door was open. He would glint wickedly at my aunt as he sped past. She would gesture at him with a stick. Not that he was very bothered. Punctually at breakfast, lunch and dinnertime, he would peek into the kitchen, his brown eyes melting with hope. When it came to food, ‘hangdog’ was a word made just for him!
Shippie hated us leaving him alone while we visited the city every weekend. He would follow the car, barking wildly and would only give up when we drove out of the colony onto the busy highway. When we returned, his entire body did a Beyonce-like shake and he ran all the way to the garage, lit up redly by the tail-lights.
One time, he decided to make a statement about being left home alone. He clawed the drawing room curtains to angry shreds, though how he managed such a thorough job from the outside we couldn’t fathom. Another time, we nearly jumped out of our collective skins when a white bundle leaped into the car. We were at a petrol pump near the colony gate on our way back home. Shippie had obviously stood vigil at the entrance.
And woe betide if we ever tied him up. The one night we did that, he brought the house down with his long, mournful howls.
Shippie ensured that we built some childhood memories. My mother would have ‘golu’ or the display of dolls every Navaratri and would invite the ladies over for ‘haldi-kumkum’. One year, one of our guests made the mistake of bringing over her dog. There was pandemonium as Shippie went for his throat in the middle of the living room. The women panicked and Mom feared for the fate of the fragile dolls as both dogs circled each other, growling menacingly and barking fit to wake the dead. Finally, Dad doused them with water and leashed Shippie before any damage was done.
Then for the second time in his life, Shippie had a change of owner. Dad was transferred to Mumbai and said we couldn’t keep him in a flat. My brother and I wept buckets of tears but to no avail. Shippie went to the maid who had worked with the previous owner. We got regular updates from our former neighbours about him. We even visited him once. He was nearly blind and had become fat and lazy. He slapped his tail feebly when we hugged him. A year later, we heard he had passed on, at the ripe old age of 14.
Thank you, Shippie, for giving us your heart, albeit briefly, and showing us why a dog is a man’s best friend…





The Sound of Letters Falling

It’s a sound I really miss these days. In the quiet of mid-morning and mid-afternoon, the ‘shrrshh…shrrsshh’ of the postman pushing letters through the slot in the door and the soft whisper of them falling on to the mat. I remember rushing eagerly to gather them up, riffling through the envelopes and inland letters, searching especially for the blue ‘par avion’ label. I had four pen-friends when I was twelve – from Norway, England, France and Germany. I also wrote regularly to a wacky cousin of mine who was married and settled in a back-of-beyond mining town called Ghatsila in Bihar. She was bored out of her mind and would write long letters full of absurd advice crackling with humour. Then there were letters written by friends from whom I had parted wrenchingly when we moved from Pune to Mumbai. It was my only link to the world I had left behind and thought of with longing.
For my European pals, it was a chance to improve their English – not one of them except of course, Catherine from England, could write fluently. Marion from Germany wrote her spider scrawl completely in German and Nadine from France communicated in a strange patois of English and French. Hanne-Marie from Norway was very correct and exact, right from her choice of words (I often suspected she had a dictionary beside her when she wrote!) to her neat printing. Hanne’s penfriendship lasted a full six years. The reason? I was spending so much on aerogrammes at one point, that my parents forbade me to keep more than one penpal and since Hanne was the one who always replied immediately, I chose her over the others.
Gifts winged their way, in both directions, across the ocean. One time it was a beautiful sealskin purse,another time a silver snowflake brooch and filigreed earrings. Once she taped a handkerchief with Christmas motifs inside the card! I received such lovely cards and postcards from her, that I still have them, over 30 years later, shown to my daughters, handled lovingly and read again and again. I sometimes wonder where my long-legged friend Hanne-Marie - who sent me a photograph of herself in shorts and sleeveless blouse sitting casually on pristine snow - is now. Did she treasure my letters and gifts (a leather purse, a kurta sent agonisingly by seamail, a sandalwood thingamajig) as much as I did hers?
My stories of my penpals inspired my daughters to look for their own when they were eleven. Of course, it was all done online – no laborious filling up of a form by hand with your age, hobbies and whether you wanted a boy or a girl! They selected the snail mail option because, they too, wanted the magic of letters delivered by the postman and the thrill of tearing open an envelope. To exclaim over the letter paper and the lives of teens like them in lands far away. One penpal sent candy, another sent stickers, and a third sent a novel she had written and printed all on her own.
Oh, of course, it is an expensive hobby, letter-writing. People regard it as an old-fashioned quirk, in an age when email, texting and instant messaging have taken over our lives. Aerogrammes used to cost three rupees when I was young, now they cost five times as much. Yesterday, I stepped into a near-deserted post-office to buy aerogrammes for my mother who wanted to write to my daughter who  lives abroad. She is uncomfortable with computers and the keyboard is beyond her comprehension. The lady behind the counter looked astonished, as if I had asked for the moon. The aerogrammes were yellowing and musty like they were relics of a bygone age.
Would my grandchildren ever know the indescribable adrenaline rush of unfolding sheets of paper and vicariously experiencing another’s faraway life through the magic of ink? No lols, rotfls, btws or silly smileys to mar the flow. The silent swoosh of a letter falling on the mat.
I guess not…

Great Expectations

The day I came home from work and gorged on an entire bottle of mango pickle, I knew. The stork had come calling, it was finally that good news and there was soon going to be the patter of tiny feet at home. Only in my case it turned out to be two pairs of feet.
Right from the first check-up, when I told the doctor that I had ‘evening’ and not ‘morning’ sickness, and she replied that I was ‘different’, I should have been suspicious. Maybe she didn’t want me to panic. Whatever the reason, it was only in the fifth month that I knew it was not one bundle of joy but two! I wasn’t exactly harrumphing with joy or whooping around the corridors at the news. Of course, the fact that my feet were rapidly disappearing from view and that I could use my ‘baby bump’ (just that in my case, it looked more like a boulder), to balance my dinner plate, should have given me sufficient warning.
I breezily sailed to work every morning, announcing my arrival much before I appeared, dragging the rest of me after. At assembly (I taught in a school), I could hardly concentrate as a warring flurry of elbows and knees practised their kung-fu moves inside my belly. “God, let both of them not be boys,” I would pray fervently every time this happened. “Let at least one be a cherubic, sweet, placid little girl.”
In the local train, the women looked at me accusingly and some of them wouldn’t meet my eyes. The unasked question in their glance: ‘Would I suddenly go into labour right there? And make them miss the 7.15 fast?’ Poor me was only in my fifth month!
Hypertension in my seventh month did not sweeten matters. And neither did the fact that the skin on my burgeoning abdomen was stretched so much that it became completely black! I wondered if I would burst one day like an overripe fruit. Was I worried about stretch marks? It seemed as if they would extend from the city to the distant suburbs, I wanted to yell to all those ‘no marks’ cream manufacturers.
Then began the ‘which side to lie on’ dilemma. Every time I turned, it was like lifting a oversized pumpkin weighing a zillion kilos. They ought to re-define the phrase ‘tossing and turning’. Never mind that my ‘tenants’ decided that playing footsie at 3 a.m. in the morning suited them just fine.
And the itching…it would begin just when I was dropping into a doze after what seemed like hours of staring at the ceiling with wide-awake eyes, long after the last sheep had jumped spryly over the last fence. In the morning my stomach looked like I had just crawled through menacing fields of brambles, nettles and an entire desert of Saguaro cacti. Anyone fancy a game of belly tic-tac-toe?
Finally, finally, after bursting into tears, pleading with the doc that I wasn’t exactly slavering for a ‘normal’ delivery, enduring a saline drip and comments that I had a ‘cast iron’ uterus, being poked and prodded, at last, deliverance. ‘Seeta aur Geeta,’ pronounced the anaesthesist with a smile and I wanted to scream, ‘Ram aur Shyam’, ‘Luv aur Kush’, I don’t care, get them out of me already!
It was as though a great weight had been lifted and I felt free, free, blessedly free. No more waiting, no more tossing, and best of all no more scratching. No more agonising over whether my babies would be perfectly formed or heaven forbid, joined together at some unmentionable place, or missing arms, legs, fingers or toes. Considering the Mahabharata that was waged inside, not for 18 days but nine whole months, I had expected some serious war wounds!
They placed the babies wrapped in bilious hospital green into my arms. I gazed at my two flawless, beautiful little girls, at their beatific, rosy and content faces. I nuzzled the petal-soft cheeks, breathed in the warm, milky smell. I heaved a long sigh; the first of a million ‘mommy’ sighs…

Ballad of the Coffee Drinker

Sometimes I dream of the aroma of fresh coffee decoction dripping slowly into the filter before I fall asleep. Brewing it the next morning. Adding just-boiled full-cream milk (with the cream, of course) and the right amount of sugar. Stirring it slowly, the fumes wafting up and dissolving the last mists of sleep. Each sip heaven, savoured and swirled around till the tastebuds drown in ecstasy. After three or four wonderful sips and swallows, a chocolate chip cookie dunked and eaten, the chips melting in the mouth. Scooping up the coffee-soaked chocolate with a spoon after draining the cup to the last drop.
My dear departed uncle, a retired college principal, was a coffee junkie, a true-blue Tam Brahm who would have demitasses of the brew every hour. My aunt had one of those gargantuan coffee filters of gleaming brass, which contained enough ‘digashan’ to feed a multitude. He lived to a ripe old age of 83 despite dire predictions of an early death, because, according to me, he had coffee, not blood, flowing in his veins!
When I was a kid, I would clamour for ‘decoction coffee’ every morning. Mom would put two drops into a glass of milk and serve it grandly as ‘colour kaapi’! I would feel very grown-up. By the time I was thirteen, I was well and truly initiated into proper coffee drinking. I would look down my nose at the instant variety – only unadulterated-with-chicory filter coffee for me.
Later in life, coffee at seven, coffee at eleven, coffee at four, okay, coffee at any which hour, pure bliss. Just for the experience I tried, I really tried drinking cappuccino, espresso, latte, hazelnut-flavoured, even cardamom-flavoured coffee, but nothing, nothing to match pure peaberry, roasted to perfection in Mom’s ancient blackened hand-operated roller, ground to the right coarseness in the equally-blackened cast iron hand grinder, only minutes before brewing the decoction. One of my enduring childhood memories is the fragrance of roasting coffee beans filling the whole house, infusing our hair and even the clothes, so that when I burrowed my head in Mom’s lap it would redolent with the scent of coffee.
Recently I read what I’ve already known for years – indeed since my ‘colour kaapi’ days – that coffee is good for health. Those adventurous goats in Ethiopia probably knew it, too. It chases away the blues, protects against Alzheimer’s, cancer and heart disease. It even reduces the chances of developing diabetes – but remember only if you have four cups of good ol’ caffeinated or filter coffee every day and before you develop any of these ailments! There is something then, to be said, for starting early…
So quick, run out and buy that filter you’ve always wanted before the medicine men change their minds. Pack one-third of the upper container with powder. No matter that it is store-bought. Press it down gently with the slotted umbrella. Slowly pour in the boiling hot water. Wait. Inhale. Ahhh…if there is paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this.

Mind-blowing Corbett (28 February to March 2010)


Nature India's trip to Nainital, Pangot and Corbett National Park was my second outing to this wildlife paradise. Last year, however, we spent all our time in Dhikala, Kosi Barrage and Mohan Kumeria. The lure for me this time round was the 2½ days in Naintal, Pangot, Bhimtal and Sattal. According to the trip experiences of participants of this trip last year, they saw more than 80 species of birds, many of them lifers. I was literally salivating at the thought of seeing all those new birds. The trip before this, to Dandeli in October, was beyond belief, so my hopes were sky-high!
I had met only two members of the group previously and that too, briefly. They were Dominic, Katie and Renee. The others were also `lifers' in a way…Paresh, Nita, Shubhada, Hutoxi, Usha, Veera, Vidyanand, Pravin and Mandar's wife Pallavi. This was my daughter Sharada's second trip with NI. The first was to Dandeli. Her life's dream was to visit Uttaranchal and she jumped at the opportunity to come with me.
It was great fun interacting with everyone. Renee, Katie, Veera, Hutoxi and Shubhada are inveterate tree lovers who have formed the Save Rani Bagh committee and have managed to stay the modernising of the zoo. Usha was an inspiration to everyone with her never-say-die spirit and concern for those much younger than her. Dominic bore the brunt of all our teasing with good sporting spirit. He had an insatiable curiosity about everything and his questions were endless…he even `fell' head-over-heels in love with Corbett! As we were going out of the park on our way back to Ramnagar, we sighted a tiger. In the commotion, Dominic lost his footing and thudded to the ground from the jeep – a nasty shock for him and for us. Fortunately he did not sustain serious injuries…and did not become a tiger snack!!!
NI had changed the itinerary slightly. We went to Nainital directly from Ramnagar where we landed at 4.30 am by the Ranikhet Express instead of Dhikala. Our first stop was at a small resort run by a Mrs.Kapoor at Kaladhungi. It was lovely, with a few cottages amidst acres of greenery. Here we freshened up and had breakfast – piping hot paranthas and fresh cranberry juice. Our birding began immediately with sightings of gorgeous Purple and Crimson Sunbirds…The drive was in Innovas, otherwise we would have been icicles by the time we reached!
Nainital was breathtaking…absolutely marvellous scenery, invigorating weather and delicious food – could one have asked for a better combination? It was freezing cold in the mornings and evenings – we had ignored the instruction to bring gloves at our peril! But once inside the room we were toasty warm. We stayed at The Nest, a cluster of 4-5 rooms set around a restaurant. The rooms were built of stone and wood. Ours had an actual `nest' – a kind of elevated space inside the room which contained a mattress for two reached by a wooden ladder! Sharada was totally fascinated and immediately `booked' it! There was a fireplace with a chimney – ideal for a Santa Claus…At night there was such silence all around except for the mild chirping of crickets, that I could not get to sleep! I could hear the blood rushing in my ears – something we don't experience in Mumbai. The stars were like brilliant lamps in the night sky, again something we have lost in the big city.
In the two-and-a-half days we were in Nainital, we visited Bhimtal, Sattal and Pangot – areas located at various distances from the main Nainital town. Coming to the birding, I had a number of lifers including the Eurasian Jay and the Red-billed Blue Magpie, a splendorous bird with a long cobalt blue tail. I cannot actually remember whether we saw some birds in the first half of the trip or in the second half at Corbett but we managed a tally of over 250 species, inspite of not sighting as many woodpeckers as we did last year.
All five species of parakeet, including the plum-headed, red-breasted and slaty-headed. A number of raptors including the ubiquitous crested serpent eagle and black-shouldered kite (we sighted so many of these two, that towards the end of the trip it was like…oh another serpent eagle/black-shouldered kite!!). The lammergeir, himalayan griffon and red-headed vulture, the shikhra (Manoj Sharma said the shikhra was a villain in romantic Punjabi poetry and even quoted some lines for us!), the black eagle, steppe eagle, the lesser fishing eagle and the changeable hawk eagle. Of course, since we were in dense evergreen forest (sal, deodar, pine), many of the birds were more heard than seen. The tiny warblers and tits flitting among the leaves made us wish that we had the vision of the owl and the neck of a flamingo! Won't someone please invent binoculars that fit on the eyes like spectacles and which can be adjusted in a jiffy according to the kind of vision one wants?? Manoj made the remark that soon birdwatchers will evolve with longer, more flexible necks…
Tit-tilating – that perfectly describes the tits. The Great Tit, Black-lored Tit, Spot-winged Tit, Green-backed Tit…a glimpse only of the Small Niltava and the Green-tailed Sunbird, a lifer for many. One of the most fantastic sightings was of the Collared Owlet and the Spot-bellied Eagle Owl. The Collared Owlet has these false eyes on the back of its head…just like some butterflies and moths – totally out of this world. The Spot-bellied Eagle Owl was sitting on a bare twig right outside our camp at Dhikala. It was a lifer even for Manoj who could not stop smiling for a long time after that! Its great big yellow eyes, ear tufts and long beak – it was the size of a large house cat!
And the mammals! Gharials, muggers, otters (!), the yellow throated marten, the mongoose, jackal and all the species of deer found in Corbett – the chital, hog deer, barking deer, sambar…who can forget the elephants? A herd of matriarchs, calves and young tuskers…we watched them feeding for a long, long time in the grassland with only the whistling wind for company. For the first time, I noticed that the elephant digs out the grass with its foot in a forward motion and then picks it up with the trunk. Once it has collected enough, only then does it shovel the grass into its mouth! There was one old female with a broken hind leg…which the guide said it had had for six years.
That elusive animal of Corbett, the tiger…We almost spotted one on the first day. Missed it by ten seconds! What heartbreak, especially for Sharada who had nurtured this dream of seeing a wild tiger for a long time…On the last trail, again the tiger leaped across the road in front of us. Again, some of us including me, missed seeing it. Those in front saw it clearly at least for fleeting seconds. Maybe next time…Inshallah!
So we turned back, our hearts heavy because we were leaving such a beautiful place to go back to the concrete jungle and resume the rat race…In my heart I hoped that humans would have the sense to preserve these last remaining havens in their pristine wild state for at least a few decades more…it would be the ultimate cruelty to rob coming generations of this natural treasure.
Congratulations to Adesh and Mandar, as also Manoj Sharma, for awakening  appreciation and love for the wild in city slicker like me…

Dandeli Dhamaka (October 2009)


It was pitch-black, the velvety sky punctured by brilliant points of starlight, as we headed down the tarred road from Kulgi Nature Camp on our first night walk. We were hoping to see some nocturnal wildlife, in particular the Sri Lanka Frogmouth. The motley group, consisted of, besides me, Uma, Mohan, Vamsee, Saru, Nikhil, Kalpana, Sucharita, the Jayarams and my daughter Sharada. We followed the piercing beam of the torch held by Mandar Khadilkar, the bespectacled, soft-spoken Nature India Tours leader and listened intently for the male's distinctive `klock,klock, klock' call. Adesh Shivkar, the intrepid birding expert, was our other leader.
Adesh stopped at a stagnant pond ringed with overhanging trees and thick bushes which he said were likely roosting spots for the frogmouth. The silence was overwhelming, punctuated only by the chirp of crickets and the occasional hooting of the Oriental Scops Owl and the plop of twigs falling into the water. As we strained our eyes in the darkness, Adesh imitated the frogmouth's call a few times and then cupped his ears to listen. After a few minutes, a thrill ran down my spine and the hairs on my neck stood on end. The frogmouth answered, first the female with its harsh `krrrrsshh' and then the male, their calls echoing eerily in the quietude of the surrounding forest.
The beam of the torch played on each succeeding tree, hoping to capture the frogmouths in its spotlight. Alas! To no avail. That night, though we walked down further for another hour, we could not glimpse this elusive bird though we heard them calling distinctly. Each time we felt the bird was just there, an arm's length away, but the torchlight revealed nothing! Nor did we scope out the Scops. Ohhhh…we all sighed a little in disappointment. Our legs ached and we sat down in the middle of the road to rest. Could we ever do that in the concrete jungle?!
We had one just more night at Dandeli, and we all resolved that come what may, we would succeed in our quest. The frogmouth apparently was quite common in Dandeli but because it was normally silent, except during the breeding season, birders rarely saw it. It roosts in the bamboo thickets or in dense bushes, sitting as still as a monk in meditation, its grey-brown colouration merging perfectly with the surroundings. It is a medium-sized bird, with bristles around its wide mouth (resembling a frog's gape, thus the name) and preys on insects which it doesn't hunt actively but catches by a silent ambush of sorts.
The second night walk started with a glimpse of the Malabar flying squirrel which we felt was a good omen! We followed the route of the first walk. Again, near the pond, we stood in a silent, hopeful bunch swivelling our heads to follow the calls we heard booming around us. Adesh then decided to walk along the road once more, saying that there were more chances of finding the frogmouth in the trees fringing it. So once more we trudged up the road, resuming our keen survey of the trees, almost willing the bird to be there!
Then…bingo! The roving beam of the torch picked them out, sitting silently on the branch of a tree directly above us! We all let out a collective breath of excitement, our hands trembling as we lifted binoculars to our eyes. The frogmouths – a pair – sat tight and glared right back at us, probably not liking the light focussed on them one bit. Uma actually shot a video of the birds and it included the female calling! Then the male took wing, followed shortly after by the female. We did not see the birds again and though we heard the Scops again, we could not spot it. So back to the camp and a celebration of our frogmouth sighting…with sweets distributed by Mandar.
Though the frogmouths were the defining moment of my visit to Dandeli, there were other memorable moments, too. We made trips to the Timber Depot, the abandoned mine, Ganeshgudi and also took a ride through the main sanctuary. The sanctuary proper was disappointing with meagre spottings – some deer and peafowl. However, the mine was a veritable goldmine! The bluebearded bee eater which refused to turn around and show us its beard (!), raucous yellow-browed bulbuls, brilliant orange and small minivets flitting like jewels in the trees, the silky chestnut headed bee eater and delicious plum headed parakeets. The timber depot was a revelation. Woodpeckers by the gallon, cute little beady-eyed velvet fronted and chestnut-bellied nuthatches meandering down the tree trunks, ashy, bronze and white bellied drongos by the drumful and shrikes and flycatchers galore. We were punch drunk in less than an hour and were greedy for more and more…
This was followed by a tree full of pompadour green pigeons looking for all the world like luscious plump fruit, shrieking Malabar pied hornbills gorging on berries and a sky full of brilliant white and rust brahminy kites. The pipal tree in the camp provided a feast too, and not only for the birds and assorted monkeys. It was a birder's feast for the eyes with crimson-fronted barbets, hanging parrots, the Asian fairy bluebird which looked as if it had fallen into a vat of Robin Blue, and the brown flycatcher shrike with black button eyes.
Dandeli was a dream come true, especially for Sharada who has now become `sort of addicted' to birding! Kudos as usual to Adesh and Mandar for organising a fantastic outing – their perserverance, patience and passion have to be experienced to be believed. 

Phantastic Phansad (15-17 May 2010)


Eeeks, what a cheesy title, but read on anyway!
It was 7 in the evening. As the sky darkened into night, the crack of twigs falling to the ground rang out like pistol shots. Frogs began a tentative chorus. Mosquitoes whined out their annoying ditties in our ears. We were bombed from all sides by large insects attracted by the beam of the flashlight. A lone bat and then a nightjar swooped over the water of the `gaan' or waterhole.
As the six of us sat waiting, Adesh said he distinctly heard the call of the Sri Lanka frogmouth! We sat quietly for more than half an hour, but neither owls nor frogmouths favoured us with a sighting. I wasn't disappointed though. Just spending time in the verdant forests of Phansad was a reward in itself.
Phansad has a number of `gans' or water bodies scattered throughout the forest. The most well known is the Chikal Gaan which is around 6 km from the gate. The paths are well marked and in some places steps have been carved out of the rock. There are patches of open grassland that are the favourite nesting places for nightjars.
We stayed in tents and though the facilities were very basic, the food was absolutely fantastic. It was typical Maharashtrian fare with bhakris, dal, papad, pickle and two varieties of vegetables. Breakfast was pohe and refreshing lemon grass tea!
On the first trek, the resident dog gave us company all the way. One time when we thought the rustling in the bushes was a big mammal the dog walked out with what looked like a gleeful grin! We spotted the tickell's blue flycatcher that evening and it was wonderful to see Chesta, the baby of the group and a first time birdwatcher, ooh and aah at the sight. Notwithstanding the fact that she was holding the binocs upside down!!
The weather was terribly hot and humid and we were all drenched in sweat throughout. But we forgot the discomfort when on our Saturday morning trek to Chikalgaan, we spotted the lovely white-rumped shama warbling its mesmerising melody. Shamas were aplenty as were the brown-headed barbets with their ascending tukk-tukk-tukkur-tukkur notes. We heard the scimitar babbler many a time but were not granted a sighting. And the pigeons!! It was a `green signal' all the way! First was the pompadour green, then the green imperial, then the yellow-footed green pigeon. The emerald dove completed the green medley or so we thought till the small green bee-eater sallied forth…
We trekked quite a bit to see the white-rumped vultures nesting and spotted a juvenile sitting all alone near the nest. It was here that eagle-eyed Shobha saw the racket-tailed drongo. Four of us also saw the Amur falcon, a lifer for three of us. It was Uma Devi who spotted the falcon. This intrepid young at heart grandmother trekked miles without a single huff or puff while I stopped every 15 minutes for a break (she is going to the Pindari glacier in June, guys!!!). The others who missed it were heart-broken so we knew we had hit the jackpot! A baby Indian violet tarantula was a bonus…
Adesh, who was very disappointed because we hadn't yet spotted the green vine snake or the bamboo pit viper, both of which he said were a dime a dozen in Phansad, finally spotted one! I really envy his hawk eyes because it was a baby vine snake and was absolutely invisible to the rest of us on the stem of the plant! A feast of karvandas was another highlight of the trek.
However Saturday evening and night was the most memorable. After a walk through the forest in pitch darkness with the stars like brilliant bulbs in the velvet night sky, and fireflies dancing in the leaves, we stopped at the open grassland. Adesh's flashlight unerringly picked out a grey nightjar and her chick! They were so camouflaged among that it was only by the red glint of her eyes that we were able to spot her. She cuddled the chick close to herself, both of them as still and frozen as the rocks around them.
It was so hot in the tent that I tried sleeping outside under the stars so to speak. Bad idea, because every rustle and squeak and chirp seemed magnified and all the shadows around took on a menace they didn't have in the morning light! Back to the tent for one chicken-hearted nature lover…
Sunday we went birding just outside the sanctuary and saw the maximum number of birds! Besides three species of flowerpeckers on one tree – the nilgiri, the pale billed and the thick billed – we saw a plum headed parakeet, a brahminy kite, a red whiskered bulbul who put on a merry little woodpecker-like dance for us, chestnut tailed starlings and the Indian and magpie robins.
Next was Supegaon, where there is the devarai or sacred grove in which the trees have been preserved for hundreds of years. There is a small shrine inside and we spent a few quiet moments there under the cool shade of the trees after a walk through a karvanda orchard and paddy fields. Naturally we could not resist plucking the sweet and plump karvandas and for a few moments birds were completely forgotten!
On our way back we stopped at Therunda to look at the skeleton of a whale. Then we met Dr Vaibhav Deshmukh who took us to see the nest of a peregrine or shaheen falcon on the top of a very tall cell tower! It was nesting inside the `drum' and there were three chicks. One was testing its wings preparatory to flight. The parents were nowhere in sight and Adesh said they were known to range far and wide to search for food for the chicks.
A brief stopover at Karnala for pittas of which there were none visible despite Adesh's frantic calls (with Yogish as second fiddle!). Then we were passing by Talave on Palm Beach Road when the flocks of waders there literally `forced' us to stop and look! A feast for the eyes - black and brown headed gulls in various stages of breeding plumage, gull billed and whiskered terns, Caspian terns and then! The entire flock took off in a panic! A shaheen falcon was on the prowl!!!
Wow! What a sight! We had a good look through the scope. The bird even took on a cormorant but had to give up as its victim managed to drop down and escape…And that was a perfect ending to a perfectly fantastic trip….thanks to Adesh and Mandar and of course the absolutely invigorating company of Uma, Chesta, Shobha and our `calculating' genius Yogish!

Notes on Nannaj (August 2009)


The Great Indian Bustard" would have been India's national bird had it not been for its awkward name! This is what I read in a document about the GIB sanctuary in Nannaj near Solapur from Nature India Tours just before my trip there from Aug 14-17, 2009. Well, what a reason! According to me the bird deserves the position. It is much more majestic than the peacock and rarer. In fact, so rare that only 400 individuals are left. In Nannaj, the numbers have fallen steadily and is now less than 30.
The sanctuary is spread over a vast area of grassland and looking for the bustard is literally searching for a needle in a haystack. It is difficult enough in the shimmering heat, but Adesh of the eagle eye spotted one lone male on the 2nd day of our stay there.Since bustards walk proud with their head high up in the air, we could spot him without too much trouble through the scope and binoculars.Sadly, that was to be the only sighting.We even went to the observation hut, but no luck. According to Adesh, when they go into a 'depression' (in the ground!) we are unable to see them. When I said I wasn't satisfied with this 'Pandharpuri sighting', Adesh laughed and remarked that it was 'lalach' to expect more!
However, our motley group of 16 consisting of my good friend Kalpana, Jayashree, Naseem, a clutch of doctors - a dermatologist, two psychiatrists, a chartered accountant, an MTech student from IIT, a BSc student, a scientist from TIFR and a prof from St.Xavier's - did see 75-80 other species! Ranging from five species of larks, raptors like the white eyed buzzard,black shouldered kite and shikhra and two species of owl - the spotted owlet and the Indian eagle owl to waders at the lake - painted storks, egrets, coots, grey heron, purple heron, ibises. Red munias, scaly breasted munias, rosy pastors, baya weavers...
The eagle owl rendered me speechless and gave me a bad case of goosebumps. Its size - almost 2 feet in height, its horn like ear tufts and its great glaring yellow eyes! Then it took off with a silent swish of its huge wings and disappeared over a ridge...we all went 'wow!' The bulbuls and mynahs elicited 'Oh, only a bulbul!' which showed what seasoned birders we were :)!
Two people we met there, a forest officer named Mr.Mhaske and a B.S.Kulkarni, proved inspiring. They have done yeoman service for preserving the sanctuary and preventing encroachment. The government has done little and its shortsighted declaration that it would reserve 8000 sq km of grassland for the bustard has evoked anger among the farmers. According to Mr.Mhaske, there is no need to notify such a large area - it is really impractical and impossible. The bustard needs to be protected within its range which is actually 400 sq km. The farmers think that there is too much attention being paid to the bird and too little to their needs. So they have even set fire to the grassland or tried to prove that the bustard numbers are too little to merit such protection!!
Mr.Mhaske wants that the locals be made aware of the importance of the bustard and that it would bring in tourists...thus improving the local economy. I suppose he is talking of the Africa model where the locals have a stake in preserving the habitat and fauna. Mr.Kulkarni has done a lot for the bustard's protection over the last 30-35 years and despite his age is still actively involved.He has some beautiful bags embroidered with the bustard and sells stickers and postcards as well as books.
Well, Nannaj was a wonderful experience all told - including the shenga poli oozing with asli ghee, mirchi techa, zunka bhakar, shengachi chutney - mmmmmm... I must have put on a few kilos. Wish I were one one of those rake thin people who scarf food but don't show it! I would advise those going in the second batch in October to starve themselves a bit before setting out. All that shenga poli and asli ghee and basundi is waiting for you!
Adesh and Mandar were their usual solicitous, cheerful, knowledgeable selves. Of course, our enthusiasm was a bit dampened when the bubbly Pradnya (Shenoy) sprained her leg and had to return early.
Keep it up Nature India...

Amboli Amblings (July 2010)


Frogs, centipedes, scorpions, snakes, spiders and not to forget LEECHES! Sounds appetizing? Then head over to Amboli to drool over such creepy crawlies and more! That's what I did at the end of July. There were 12 others in the group including a clutch of do-or-die, `shoot at sight' photographers!
Adesh had warned us not to expect to spot any birds. Though we heard lots of birdcalls – scimitar babblers, brown-cheeked fulvettas and barbets – we spotted only two or three at the most. This place is more well-known for its unlimited variety of insects, amphibians and reptilians. And not only did we have Adesh and Mandar to guide us, but also Hemant Ogale who runs Whistling Woods, a Bed and Breakfast place in Amboli where we all stayed. Not to forget Shashank who is a young expert on amphibians and snakes.
Hemant runs the Malabar Conservation Centre and is training a group of local youths to raise awareness about environmental issues in the region. It is threatened at least from what I saw, by the huge tourist influx during the monsoon and the unplanned development. The tourists come from Goa and nearby places to bathe in the waterfalls that cascade down the hills. We saw at least a thousand or more congregated at the biggest one. The plastic litter, beer bottles and cans were grim reminders of how little people cared about destroying the very natural beauty they had come to enjoy.
Hills in the distance, and rainforest around you as you "amble" along tarred roads through the mist – yes, it makes for a pretty picture, doesn't it? And if you like rains in the countryside, then good for you – Amboli is known as the Cherrapunji of Maharashtra. Unluckily for us, it did not rain all that heavily. There were good rains only on the day we were leaving!
We went to a place called Madhavgad and Parikshit Point, the highest at 900 metres. This was through a leech-ridden forest path. Gauri spotted a Malabar pit viper and won the `prize' promised by Adesh (an old cap!!). We spotted this snake three or four more times. The beautiful Bombay Shield Snake, the Green Vine snake and the Olive forest snake completed our kitty. We also spotted a variety of frogs including bullfrogs and burrowing frogs. Lots of frog's eggs in which we could see the tadpoles (that was an awesome sight). Hemant put his feet inside a pond at one stage and all the tadpoles swarmed all over them to give him a `pedicure'!
The crowning glory was a glimpse of the Malabar gliding frog in Hemant's backyard. He had a rare video of the mating of these frogs and showed us the foamy nests studded with tiny yellow eggs. They build these nests on branches overhanging water so that the tadpoles drop directly into water.
Three days of unlimited fun…walking in the rain, enjoying the white mists swirling down the path and stopping here and there to exclaim at the amazing sights that nature provided us. If this isn't the greatest stress buster and balm for jaded urban souls, I don't know what is!
And of course we all enjoyed the spicy Konkan food (a bit too hot for me!), especially the fish eaters who feasted on surmai and bangda…washed down with cooling Solkadi. Mmmmm…
Our trip wound up with a visit to the colourful Sawantwadi wooden toy bazaar. All of us picked up some gleaming memento or the other of this lovely, unspoiled place. And I added one more leaf to my album of memorable journeys with Adesh and Mandar. More strength to this pair of nature-lovers…

Bhimashankar (December 2008)


Since 'birdie' Adesh Shivkar began Nature India Tours, this is the second time I have been with him to Bhimashankar (December 2008). The first was in June this year when much to the chagrin of the group of 23-odd 'bird brains', the rains set in early! Swirling mists and pelting rain was all we got when we landed in the Blue Mormon resort. Of course, going on trails during the monsoon has a beauty all its own. However, I wanted to visit the place once more and got my wish this last weekend (12-14 Dec).
Though a number of people dropped out at the last minute and only three were left at last count, Adesh did not cancel the trip (thank  god!). There were, besides me, Vamsee who had come to Mumbai 6 months ago from the U.S. and Father Luke, a priest from Byculla. Best of all, we got Adesh all to ourselves for almost three full days, which I consider a bonus...Normally he has an eager group of a dozen or more people crowding about him and queueing up at the spotting scope :) It was wonderful to bird in this leisurely fashion, stopping to stand and stare as long as we wanted.
First stop was Uran, near Jasai. The water body there was swarming with waders and Adesh said we could spend an hour there. It was amazing, to say the least. Scores of painted storks, a regal white stork, grey herons, black winged stilts tripping about on their spindly red legs and pied avocets preening in their smart black and white suits. Far away were three kinds of terns - the rare river tern, the gull-billed tern and the whiskered tern - a fantastic sight to see them all in a row near a rock! Adesh pointed out the difference in the beak length and colours of the curlew and marsh sandpiper and the common and green sandpiper. Pointing to a cormorant in the middle of the pond, he told us that people often confuse the little and Indian coromorants and that this was the 'little' species.
Ruddy shelducks and shovellers were paddling about busily while ruffs and black tailed godwits swept their bills in the mud searching for food. Suddenly, soaring high above us, there appeared a marsh harrier and then a brahminy kite. There was a blue flash as a common kingfisher dove into the water.
Uran done, we drove on to Bhimashankar in the Qualis, stopping for breakfast at Khopoli. The journey was a bit tiring and the roads were very rough in some parts. When Adesh was not sleeping, he entertained us with stories of his days working in the pharma industry and how he decided to quit one fine day. Vamsee told us about her time in the US and why she decided to return to India and how India had changed completely. Father Luke and I proved good listeners (well somebody had to listen!!).
Bhimashankar...finally after a good 5+ hours on the road...first trail in the evening was nearby as we were all a bit tired. There were plenty of birds on the telegraph wires including tiny malabar crested larks, small green bee eaters (Father commented that the poor birds were on a 'restricted diet'!) and rosy starlings. A lone white eyed buzzard stood sentinel on a pole and we spotted him there almost every time we passed. In the distance were a flock of tree pipits and Adesh asked us to note the little waggling movement they made with their tails. Pied bushchats were aplenty both near the resort and on the roadside. One dried tree was a favourite resting spot for hoopoes, bee eaters, drongos and a shikhra. An oriental turtle dove was cooing in the grass and through the scope we could see the beautiful markings on the neck. It was a full moon night and we spent quite a while enjoying the cool breeze and the vast open spaces. We tried to star gaze but clouds put paid to that.
The Gupt Bhimashankar trail on the morning of the 13th led past the temple. The last time it was slick with rain and it was all we could do to pick our way over the boulders, leave alone watch for birds! This time round, it was easier to walk and also watch. The crowning moment was our sighting of the glorious paradise flycatcher, flitting through the trees like a Romeo in white coat tails, pursuing his love, equally beautiful in her rufous dress. Adesh of course, had to make his cheeky comment that the males were better to look at than the females - umpteen times!! The white bellied blue flycatcher, both male and female, was a lifer for me as was the chiffchaff, the greenish warbler and white cheeked fulvetta.
A sudden commotion in the trees above and an indignant 'chik chik chik' meant the Malabar giant squirrel. We saw at least four or five of these magnificent bushy tailed creatures and one spent a good five minutes on a branch above us, staring down with his bright button eyes. In a clearing quite near the destination, we spotted the Verditer flycatcher, the black naped monarch, the yellow browed bulbul (besides of course the red vented and red whiskered varieties). At the end of the trail, Adesh took us up a slope in search of what he said were tej patta or bay leaves though we could not get the smell however much we sniffed!! Returning, we saw more squirrels and heard the booming call of a langur.
Nagphani, the highest point in Bhimashankar was memorable because Adesh of the eagle eyes located the nest of a kestrel in the cliffs! Through the scope we saw the female sitting inside the hollow. There were dusky crag martins and red rumped swallows zooming around in the air above. On the way back from Nagphani, it was dark though it was just 6 pm. We decided to sit in the middle of an open field near an abandoned house. It was one of the most tranquil and fulfilling moments of my life - the silence around, the stars above and a sharp breeze wafting in the scent of the forest. Adesh scanned the nearby trees with his torch to see if there were any nightjars, or owls, but no such luck.
However, on the road back, the headlights heart stoppingly revealed a collared scops owl sitting all by himself! Then a night walk. Though Adesh said there were a lot of grey nightjars about the place, we spotted only one and by chance, very near the resort. It was Vamsee who pointed it out to us.
Sunday morning, our last trail (sigh!) on the Ahupe road. Adesh took us to a quiet dell off the road side and here we saw tickell's leaf warbler, scarlet minivet, common woodshrike, ashy drongo, spotted dove, sky blue monarch flycatchers and crimson backed sunbirds glinting like rubies in the bushes. Then who should come out from behind a clump of grass but a grey jungle fowl, in all his feathered glory! Wowwwww! What a sight! He stood for a full half a minute out in the open strutting his stuff before he realised he had an audience and vanished in a hurry.
Before we knew it, it was time to leave...sighhh!! What a wondrous trip it had been, notwithstanding the nonstop talkathon on the return journey between Vamsee and Adesh! I will also remember Father Luke's rich baritone humming snatches of hymns and songs to suit the occasion - whether it was the fantastically shaped rocks or the white clouds above!
I am sure each of us took a part of the peace and quiet and beauty of the forest back with us to dusty, dirty, crowded Mumbai. On Monday, deep in the middle of work, I thought back to our sojourn in the wild
and was immediately uplifted…

A Slide Down the Wild Side! (December 2008)


Julius Rego led a walk on Sunday 21st December to Artists Village Belapur. In his message he said the trail was 'strenuous'. Understatement of the year! To me it felt like I was taking part in Fear Factor!! Sorry, Julius...I suppose 49 year old bones and muscles really make themselves felt after even a little bit of climbing :)
There were twelve intrepid souls including Julius who assembled at around 7.15. My good friends Kalpana, Rajesh and Rajashree and newly made pals Vamsee and her better half Saru. At the beginning of the trail there was quite a bit of bird activity.
Lots of purple rumped sunbirds, an iora, booted warbler, red-whiskered bulbuls and a lone bee eater (seen on our return). Honey buzzard on a tree, booted eagle in the sky, a couple of swifts...however our attention was more on keeping our footing on the leaf strewn, rocky path.
Julius suddenly pointed to an 'artistic' pile of dung and asked me if I knew which animal had done its business. I replied that it was probably a cow. Why not a buffalo, queried Julius. Then he said that buffalo dung was rather smelly and not so well formed! A discussion ensued as to why the cow was holy and not the buffalo though both are equally useful to man!
Julius pointed out the numerous mahua trees and a few other plants whose names I've forgotten! Sorry! The interlude gave me a bit of a breather because the climb was a bit steep thereafter and after a lot of huffing and puffing (at least I was huffing and puffing!) we reached a level sort of plateau. This was where we had the dosas I'd taken along and a couple of swigs...of water, of course! Then on, courageous birders!
We reached the top (I thought) but Julius said there was an even higher place a half an hour's walk away with a beautiful view! Seven of us said 'nyet, nyet' and turned back at that point after a hearty meal of cake, apples, oranges, plum cake with rum, courtesy Julius (Merry Xmas btw) and cucumbers and peas...More discussion on cows and buffaloes. According to Julius, in Germany a scientist used cow dung which was worked on by sunlight to fertilize crops and as a pesiticide. It was marvellously effective. Holy-moly cow!
The way down was more of Fear Factor, slipping and sliding and landing on our backsides on some places! We did see a booted eagle (bonus!) at one point. The rest of the trail passed in a blur and by the time we had reached level ground, I was soaked in sweat and spattered with hay and bits of thorn. Thank god for strong helping hands in the form of Vamsee and Saru!!

Mount Abu (September 6-9 2008)

I was on BNHS's first trip to Mount Abu. The site was at Camp Abu Wild. I didn't know Rajasthan would be so green. Maybe because when you think of the place, you think dry desert! The place is marvellous - lush and luxuriant - with a large number of water bodies scattered throughout.
The treks were exhilarating (and literally breathtaking at points!!). The group was made up of mainly 60+ members, so though I am pushing 50, I was regarded as 'young'(!). Though I missed Isaac, I enjoyed interacting with our young leader Nikhil Bhopale, a 24 year old, who more than made up for his lack of experience with his gung ho attitude, enthusiasm, cheerful smile and readiness to help. He has a great future ahead of him. Thanks are also due to Nikhil Mori and Yogendra Jhala, another youngster who provided able support as also the entire team at Auro Adventures.
Mr.Jugal Kishore Tiwari is one of the most passionate nature lovers I have ever come across. He was untiring and unrelenting in his quest On the last but one day, a majority of the group finally sighted a small flock of the beautiful green bird with its zebra stripe markings feasting in a cornfield! What a wonderful experience!
As for me, my trip will also remain memorable for the glimpse of the scimitar babbler, black lored tit, pallid harrier, brown headed barbet, brown rock chat, oriental white eye and the yellow eyed babbler.
Guys, I have fallen in love with the wildlife paradise that is our country. I hope with all my heart that nature lovers everywhere will do their utmost to preserve its wildernesses for the generations to come.