As I move onto a new journey that takes me outside India for a couple of months, I couldn’t help but reminisce about the places I have lived in and visited in the last one year in India.
India-a country with distinct religions from the ancient Hindu to the declining Zoroastrianism, with a myriad of languages and dialects from Konkani to Jarawa, with a plethora of geographies from fathomless deserts to treacherous glaciers, with a vast network from modern sea links to old hanging bridges, with a wide assortment of food from homely dal roti to mouth-watering, overnight-cooked chicken biryanis, with a range of commutes from rusted Hero bicycles, serene camels, and obedient bullock carts to fancy Rolls Royces, from peaceful Tamil marriages held for two hours during daylight to exciting Punjabi wedding functions sprawled over many days in luxurious hotels spread across India; we have it all.
This large and miscellaneous congregation of people-that India is-sometimes makes me proud, but sometimes the restrictions of this collectivist society suffocate me.
I wanted to see if the flavors I saw flying in my kitchen had wings. I wanted to see if my hands moved fast enough to massacre a red onion in under thirty seconds. I wanted to see if I could count on the buoyancy of the country eggs I poached. I wanted to see if I could scale the golden fish. If I could do justice to her death. I wanted to see if I could make the chicken fall off its bones. I wanted to see if the boiled spinach adorned a darker green. I wanted to see if anyone else could stuff more onions in paranthas than I could.
I wanted to see if any other spice could overpower asafoetida’s pungent-ness. I wanted to see if life could be lived without coriander. I wanted to understand the fuss about the snowy-white garlic. That always looked to me like the dome-like crown on the head of queen Victoria. I wanted to see if Tiramisu talked. Maybe it could breathe life into another being. As when I licked its spoonful, I was floating freely and kicking in my mother’s uterus again.
As we approached the Ranganathittu National Park, we could see big birds flying above us in groups. That part of the Mysore city felt like a forest. Soon we would see crocodiles basking on rocks and islets full of young chicks chattering incessantly for food.
Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary is a natural reserve in the Mandya district of Karnataka. The reserve is three kilometers from the historic town of Srirangapatna (another important place in Karnataka) and sixteen kilometers (10 mi) north of Mysore. The drive to Ranganathittu bird sanctuary from Bangalore took us about four hours.
Ranganathittu islets were formed when an embankment across the Kaveri river was built between 1645 and 1648 by the then king of Mysore. These islets, originally numbering twenty five, soon started attracting birds. Once upon a time, ornithologistSalim Ali observed migrant birds nesting in huge numbers on the islands. Upon his suggestion, the King of Mysore declared the islets a protected area in 1940. Now the sanctuary is formed by six of these islets on the Kaveri river.
As soon as we arrived at Ranganathittu, we purchased a ticket and went inside. As we went inside the sanctuary, we could see the Kaveri islands below us, and above us in the sky flew painted storks, ibis, pelicans, and herons. At least those were the birds I could identify. When we took the special boat ride that takes in seven people and goes around the sanctuary for forty minutes the boatman told us that the Ranganathittu reserve hosts at least one hundred seventy bird species. Some of the common birds found are painted storks, Asian openbill storks, woolly-necked stork, pelicans, river terns, egrets, cormorants, herons, and varieties of kingfishers.
The best time to visit Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary is from December to February, and we were well within the time frame. During these months migrant birds come to Ranganathittu from as far as Siberia, South America, and the Himalayas, and they all nest in the bird sanctuary. You can also spot crocodiles, otters, mongooses, and flying foxes there. Just keep your eyes open and binoculars in focus.
I penned down my experience in Ranganathittu National Park in a poem. After all, what is better than nature and poetry?
Writing down that poem here. Hope you enjoy it 🙂
Painted storks in Ranganathittu
As we entered the sanctuary, painted storks glided above us in the clouded sky,
and with our heads tilted towards the heavens,
we walked by the side of the muddy Kaveri,
to see flocks and flocks of white and grey birds just perched onto the canopies of the Arjuna and the Acacia on the islets.
The crisp air buzzed with their songs and shrieks,
though I couldn’t identify even one of those notes.
We gazed at the distant foliage to recognize the winged-ones,
but our eyes instead discovered three crocodiles who rested on the rocks with their powerful jaws wide open,
as if they were waiting for a fish to dive into their mouth.
Their stillness made us wonder if they were real or fake,
and then we saw one of them gracefully gliding into the coolness of the water,
One of My Favorite Places to Visit near Bangalore: Panchapalli Dam and Bettamugilalam Village
One needs to control his or her mind to do anything in this world. Even the most enlightened of us all, Plato, Seneca, Marcus, Aristotle, Buddha, Socrates, valued this virtue. I do not possess this quality, yet, and hence couldn’t sleep the Saturday night before the Sunday drive. At 4 am, when I disabled the alarm and dragged myself out of bed, I felt as if a hundred pins pierced my eyes.
Determined to hit the road, we packed our country-egg-omelet and Amul-butter-pasted sandwiches, that I had already prepared the night before, in tiffin boxes and then in a backpack, along with bananas, water bottles, and Unibic protein bars. We wanted to hike the world. Soon, we sped on the road in search of a green and sunlight-lit golden Sunday in some distant hills or next to a lake or a dam, may be accompanied by an elephant or two.
For more than eight years, I've read and written night and day to make On My Canvas—my sustenance and life's focal point—a place of inspiration, trial, adventure, and happiness. Everything here and my weekly newsletter, Looking Inwards, is free. No AI. No ads. No paywalls. No sponsors. No paycheck.
If my blog has served you in any way, please consider making a one-time or a consistent donation. Your generosity will not only support the idea that we can create a life of our choice but also sustain good-quality free writing online. I'll be thankful forever.
