What Evening!

What evening hast thou given to me?
Where the evening doesn't seem to know, what it means to be an evening endearing
What now, after all, does it stay to be?
What evening here, hast thou given to me?

Where the sun strangely slips through, without a single sign
Whence I have not an inkling, that this bare would be this evening sky
With the hues all having hidden and neither a silver shine
The sun strangely slips through, without a single sign

Why would there be a silver shine? Since these clouds don't know a thing!
As they cluster all clumsily, in clumps of light grey whims
Whence would there be a wetting of drop, if these clumps hold damn nothing!
Alas! There's not a silver shine, for the clouds don't know a thing!

And what now have the winds garnered, on this gust-less evening so still?
For not a wing rides them, rest alone a flock feathered
Such bereaved twilight bringeth the bereft evening, with not a nest to fill!
Watch this, what have the winds garnered, on this gust-less evening so still!

And how does this evening stutter now, and coughs as the engine spews!
With curtains of ghastly gases, covering even this suffering
The earthly waft's stopped rising now, filth and a frown is all that it gives
See! The way this evening stutters now, and coughs as the engine spews!

What cheer then, do thou bring to me now, with this evening so long and lonely?
Listless and drab, it drags along with such dull dreariness
Where there's none to share a thought, wherefore my humble hut doesn't feel so homely
Tell me what cheer do thou bring to me now, with this evening so long and lonely?

What evening hast thou given to me pray?
What else now, does it stay to be? Say!


Instead give me that evening, that evening like before
On that hump of earth overlooking, the sylvan river shore

When the sun tinkered a while longer, as he clung to the last line
In a farewell bid of gratitude on his descent of last incline

And spill did he all his grandeur, in countless crimson colours
To embellish the blushing vastness, enchanting all others

What pining must have brewed there, in that glance of the parting moment
For climb would I the tallest boulder, to keep watching even as he went

Lines of home bound feathers would garland the bridal sky
As if to thank HIS benevolence for the day just gone by

And float would the lithely flock across the greying blue
To their nest of honest twigs with new little lives a few

On the rustic riverbed, the water would shimmer and glow
First gold then the cooling silver, would pour on the steady flow

Likewise would flow the stream, of thoughts all old and good
Of happily flitting times and times that happily stood

Give me that very evening, of the simple, humble ease
When the river-breeze came in whooshes, whistling through the trees

And cooled all the brows and cheeks, wet by the toil and joy
And settled in the happy smile of the silly simple boy

-Vindy

The Silent Night

Silence seeps through this stilling night

In a sunken silent stupor, with a slow silent drift
In this heavy laden air, that refuses to lift
Silence thus settles, in the combs of a hive
Of time that trickles, and gathers slow to thrive

Silence seeps through this stilling night

On the cold curling gravel, where the trodden path rests
That soaks the stamps that were, of thousands of quests
And now exudes a content gleam from the dew wetted splatter
Under the ascetic lamppost that infuses the tranquil scatter

Silence seeps through this stilling night

In the veins of the leaves that murmur in the hush
Flirted by the chill that swishes by in a rush
Or in the wrinkles of the bark that try to hold the shadows
Of this lilting love of leaves and the lusty breeze of meadows

Silence seeps through this stilling night

In the rustic lunar sheen that pauses in its pace
And drips a sliver of silver on the onlooker's face
As well in the trail of vapour that wets the languid moon
Passing like a passing thought, so stark and yet so soon

Silence seeps through this stilling night

Filling those long drawn blanks, between the squeaks and hoots
Fading in the darkened foliage or burrowed beyond the roots
In the garb of the ghostly spirit that pervades the empty space
In the mind of the wary wanderer who watches the blurry face

Silence seeps through this stilling night

In the humming drone of the dumb who churn some silly code
Of some seeking steadfast minds, who dare the steady load
In my steady heave and fall, as I climb the dragging slope
Of a content silent slumber, as I garner my humble hope

Silence seeps through this stilling night

Vindy

(This poetry describes the surroundings on campus when I was returning back from my lab vary late into the night and how I felt while slowly walking back with my cycle. It can be, however, generalized to any silent night, if you will)

Oriental Magpie Robin

26 May, 1600 hrs:

I am trying to read on scheduling, and yet, however hard I try, I still can't gather myself well enough to concentrate om this topic. There are just too many audio interrupts snatching my attention away and all from the musical clan of magpie robins.

Magpie robins (or Oriental magpie robins, as they call them) have been all over our place, and my mind, this spring. Through all the times from early mornings to hot afternoons to late evenings (and even during the night time on one discrete occasion) and through all places around me from our colony to right till Harantekdi and Indrayani, it has been one wonderful concert this summer from one beautiful ensemble of this bird.

Magpie robin is a wonderful bird; a worthy passerine(birds considered as songbirds) with its extensive vocal skills. It has a rich repository of melodious tunes and various ways of rendering them. Even the conspicuous calls of cuckoo have faded in my opinion in comparison with the spirited and varied calls of the magpie robin. I have loved hearing to them, indulging myself in their talks once in a while. I even once tried chasing one on my bike only taking its calls as the cue. It sure was a blind chase, since it was nearing dark, but by no means was it a chase in silence! Although the advent of barbets in the nearby trees has been a really welcome news this summer, magpie robins have hogged all the attention due to their relentless riyaz in their vocals. It is of course their breeding season. I realized, after some reading, that the calls aren't just meant to win over a mate during the breeding season. They are more to stake a claim to a certain territory as their own and to ward off any potential competitor from entering the protected area. That explains the observation of the peculiar stance of the birds in fixed areas around the house. I have seldom seen them in large flocks, but only in small units of a family. A male magpie robin claims its territory and in a solitary exercise defends it all through the breeding season and the initial few days of bringing up of the offspring which is taken care of by the female. The male's calling poise shows aggression, excitement and also some real determination. As a visual signal, it also uses its tail to communicate its intent through jerks, flicks and by spreading it sometimes while it sings. Besides, there are other subtler, musical calls, perhaps meant for other specific communication or signals. So much so that one feels that the magpie robin is actually having a detailed conversation and the tone, loudness, pitch, tempo, tune all seem to depict at different times, various feelings like love, understanding, concern, happiness, jubilation, pleading, inquiry, aggression, imitation and maybe some more. I once tried to converse with a magpie robin with my own bird-like chirping, just out of curiosity. It was successful to an extent as we exchanged a few calls before the robin must have realized that I wasn't making any sense after all and just flew away to a farther branch. Or on second thoughts, did I impose my authority over my territory, forcing it to budge away! [:p]

Here are some pictures of this bird.

The last one which looks evidently different from the rest is a female whereas all others are male magpie robins.

There is another relative of this bird, called the Indian robin, which is widely observed. I have always seen this bird only in open spaces, near shrubs and trees, somewhat away from human settlements. Here's a picture, albeit not a very clear one.

May

Mango my mouth, Mohur my mind, Magic my MAY!