I Missed My Tern

Saturday was World Migratory Bird Day
I am now surprised to learn
And among many many birds that fly the aerial highway
There’s none like the Arctic tern.

Whole flocks fly from Arctic to Antarctic and retern 
Ha! now, isn’t that a super cool pun to kill?
A round trip of 60,000 km (your tummy will churn)
Before they settle down with a beer to chill.

A mysterious silence descends before they leave home
Are they meditating on the flight ahead
Or checking Insta and reconfiguring 4G settings to Roam?
No clue.  But biologists call this behaviour ‘dread’.
ps.  I dread meditation too, it’s definitely a syndrome
So, am I a tern intern crossbred?  

Now, if you see a flock of this Migration’s Star Emblem  
And (because you studied engineering) your idioms are wrongly honed
Don’t rush to pick the nearest rock and fling it at them
Because, you’d read, one must never leave a tern unstoned.

Among Otters

 It’s an overcast Sunday afternoon and I wonder if the kids – after a heavy lunch on the third day of their summer camp at KK and Arthi’s lovely village home – will be sluggish and sleepy; not a good time to make a presentation on otters, even a light one.
But how wrong one can be!

We begin by playing a fun game and before I get down to the title slide, there is a barrage of questions: Have you rescued otters? (Answer: No, thank goodness.)  Do they bite? (Yes! Remember they chomp fish for a living. And that’s why I said, thank goodness.). Why are they not amphibians? (Great question!  Can someone answer that please?)  Do they like people? (No, most definitely not, and  with good reason.  But do you like them?)

  
There is a roar of ‘Yes!’, two dozen voices in symphony.   They had seen Wild Karnataka the previous day and cannot quite get over the clip of a romp of otters chasing a tiger out of the water.  

This bunch of twenty-five is not sleepy by half. 
I am mesmerized by them, by their questions and curiosity.  We talk of paw prints and wildlife trade, of mustelids and dens, of crocs and dolphins and Darwin, of crabs and crabby people, of pesticides and bio-magnification.  The older ones – in high school – are remarkably well informed, the younger ones are diligently curious and happily exuberant.  

An hour flies by unnoticed – time and land forgotten - and Arthi signals with a smile that I must wind up now.  The kids aren’t half as disappointed as I am, but there are more questions outside the room too: Can we come with you to see otters? is the common one (When you grow up a bit more, definitely Yes!).
But then, do you wonder, as I often do, what happens when we all grow up? 

A few copies of Walk Through – my first book of stories – that I had found at Random Rubble are passed around.  Cheerful byes and high-fives, and it’s time to head home.   

A day later, I get a message with a photo from Madhuri, a volunteer whose daughter is at the camp: Tanmaye asked me to send this to you as a gift for your talk yesterday.  

Isn’t this just brilliant?  I think of the time and effort this twelve-year old who loves zoology has put in to draw this gorgeous sketch.  Can there ever be a better gift?

The More The Merrier

When I first read about India’s momentous achievement in becoming the country with most humans in it – Population Amrit kaal - I thought immediately, of course, of Balappa.

Since it’s unlikely that you know him – we all have our weaknesses, so don’t blame yourself – he is a farm hand around our area and works a couple of days every month at Random Rubble.  Balappa belongs to an itinerant tribe called the Pujarees, about one of whom Kenneth Anderson, of tiger-hunting fame, has written an entire chapter in encomium (which is about the only non-fiction that he wrote in his life).  He’s in his mid-thirties (Balappa, not Kenneth, who lived in the mid-thirties.  There’s a subtle difference and looks like you haven’t had your morning coffee).  Balappa is slim and wiry as most tribal folk tend to be, and a strong, silent soul with a gentle, but otherwise nondescript, face. 

 
I like the guy because he actually works unlike most other mid-thirties fellows in our area who are philosophers and economists and have a Grand Theory for Everything.  So, when I read this Population Amrit Kaal bit, I congratulated him heartily because he has done more than his bit: he has, hold your length and breath, thirteen kids (when reports last came in).  

His elder brother, Chandrappa, has, in contrast, a meagre eight, after which he threw in the towel and– in the immortal words of Seenappa – ‘got himself stopped’ at the local hospital (damn these doctors for spoiling the show).  Of his other brothers, I sadly know little, but if he ever consults me on a possible location for a family reunion, I will recommend Eden Gardens in Calcutta as the only option that comes to mind (the Grand Colosseum too, but I am a Make-in-India guy.  So is Balappa, by the way.)

The story - and the kids - does not stop here.  His elder son, who is now a sprightly twenty, has two kids as well (also when reports last came in.  A lot can happen in forty-eight hours).  You and I now know from this family history (and histogram plus trend line) that the son has a fair chance of beating his parents’ (otherwise) enviable record (I am taking bets, drop me your odds).   Ananda, in whose farm, Balappa and his Indian Premier League live, is convinced that he knows the root cause.  “Sir, you and I, we talk so much.  We both have two kids each.  He hardly talks!” he says, rolling on the floor laughing at what he is convinced is ultimate dodgy risqué humour. 

 
Now, as a hobby economist, I know that giving girls a sound education is the only long-run solution (assuming Balappa thinks there is a problem, that is), so I have long tried to get him to put his kids in school.  In the past, I have sold private equity to unsuspecting victims, so I can sell pink ice to Eskimos and bisibele bath to MTR, trust me.  I can even sell Amrit kaal to you.  

Balappa will always listen to me with a smile of deference and nod his head in complete agreement with everything I say.  But when Balappa meets me the next time, it is with the news of a new addition to his IPL.