The Sunbirds In Spring

 

Come spring, quite a bunch of flowers started popping up in the front garden - roses, nasturtiums, ice, and marigold flowers - to name a few.

And one could hear the familiar call of the sunbirds, with the bright blue of the male glistening in the sun while the female sported a more subdued green and brown plumage. As they flitted from one flower to the next, inserting their beaks in to suck nectar, we watched their antics from the living room. They seemed to enjoy the hanging hen chime in the porch, clambering on to it on every visit.

Then I took off on a three day visit to Bangalore, and returned to find the purple sunbirds starting to build a nest on my wind chime. Of all the places they could have chosen, they found this to be the safest place! Hanging mid air, delicately balanced between two bells, the most fragile nest started taking shape bit by bit.

Day 2

Tiny blades of dried grass, dry leaves and twigs, and a fierce amount of determination went into building the nest. As we watched with awe, the tiny female bird made innumerable trips, bringing in materials and deftly sewing items together with her sharp hooked beak. Watching her was a lesson in dexterity and patience.

Don't miss the round-shaped doorway to the sunbirds' home, or the overhang they added to ensure the insides remain shaded in the growing heat. After all, every species looks out to provide the best for the babies.

Seeing the frenzied antics of the purple sunbirds, and their sheer diligence in building a secure and comfortable nest, reminded me of Kahlil Gibran's words. Words from 'The Prophet' that are not only well-written but very appropriate, where he describes the process of birthing as "Life's longing for itself". 

Meanwhile, this story is bound to have a second part as we keep an eye on the purple sunbirds and their attempts at raising a brood. Stay tuned!

Upholding Culinary Traditions

 

Growing up, my mother always made something special for the Republic Day holiday. Most often it would be the winter staple koraishutir kochuri (a fried flatbread with flavoured peas stuffing). This would be accompanied by aloor dom (a tangy preparation using boiled potatoes), a favourite in most Bengali households. 

This was a tradition that Ma carried forward from her growing-up years in Shimla. Back then Republic Day had even more significance since the previous generation had lived through the freedom struggle.

After she left, I kept craving the koraishutir kochuri through the winters but could not gather the confidence to try making them myself. The meal required some work, time and patience, and all were in short supply in the intervening years.

Finally this year, a whole seven years after she went away, my craving got the better of me, and I resolved to try making koraishutir kochuri. Making the peas stuffing is fairly easy. Filling up the dough balls with the right amount, and then rolling them out perfectly is the tough part. The first attempt went by better than expected and so, on Republic Day I finally prepared a second batch of my favourite meal of winters. Along with aloor dom, of course. And some halwa for dessert.

Thus upholding a much-loved culinary tradition started by my amazing mother. 😍 Needless to say, the family loved it. 

Catching Up

 

Can't believe four months went by without me even thinking about this blog, leave alone posting. Goes to show just how mentally occupied I was with a thousand other things, right from a much-needed family vacation to a wedding in the extended clan.

But as I scroll through the photos on my phone, I realise there are things I'd like to document for posterity and share with the world. So here goes... a month-wise update seems appropriate.

August

Was a momentous month as the first-born started college.

September

After a long hiatus, I painted bottles again for a local fair. Zero sales notwithstanding, it felt good to reconnect with the old art form again.

October

Was the month of festivals, right from Durga Puja to Diwali. The youngest wore a saree for the first time, and loads of bonhomie and good food marked the various celebrations.

November

As we celebrated two decades of a life spent together, the much-awaited family vacay finally happened.

December

A wedding and get-togethers meant lots of occasions to go out and soak up some fun in the sun. But the real pleasure lay in a flower-filled home full of fragrances from festive year-end baking.

At the end of the day, it is the small joys that give the most happiness! 😊

Monsoon Diary

 

This year the monsoon has been kind to us. Keeping it cool and pleasant without drowning us out. So here's a visual diary of the season which is otherwise so welcome for the relief and renewal that it brings.

As the plants heaved a sigh of relief after battling the unbearable summer heat, one could see the garden looking visibly happy, and producing both flowers and vegetables. 

However a squall brought down the Gulmohar tree beside our house, damaging a car in the neighbourhood. And I promptly put up a piece of the lopped off trunk in the front garden. Had been meaning to add a tree trunk for a long time.... finally managed.

As the skies turned gray, the bright rain liles and portulacas provided perfect contrast by making the garden vibrant with their colours. Little pops of happiness!

Even though we diligently water our plants through summer, it is always amazing how a few drops of rain makes everything flower in such abundance. Our portulacas have been a source of joy, much like the beautiful skies above.

And flying the tricolour at our home to mark 75 years of India's independence added to our monsoon fun.

Hope the rains will remain enjoyable henceforth, and leave us with some good memories of this season.

Summer Blossoms

It is indeed nothing less than magical that despite the searing heat of our summer, some special blossoms managed to bring colour to the garden and joy to our hearts, even when everything was wilting to yellow and brown.

Our summers always begin with the bright red amaryllis. This time the last of the larkspur gave them the perfect pairing.

The globe or football lilies bloomed after three years of planting. They would keep growing new bulbs but refused to blossom. Out of sheer frustration I started using the pot for seasonals and promptly forgot about these bulbs buried under. Till a pair of these beauties showed up!

The sea daffodils share a similar story. Initially planted in a shady part of the backyard, they sprung to action about an year after being moved to a sunny area. Their exquisite shape is breathtakingly beautiful.

Now as the rains have started, we are waiting for the colourful portulaca to blossom.

 

Encounters With A Bull Frog

 

After an exceptionally hot and parched summer that lasted longer than usual, one had expected to see a dwindling amphibian population. But at the first signs of rain, out came this bull frog from a storm water drain.

When it first made an appearance, we thought it would find a home amidst the numerous pots and dense bushes like most of its tribe did. But this guy had other plans... Instead of hiding from us humans, he proceeded to jump right in our faces, eliciting shocked screams and some heightened cardiac activity from me. Not just once, but repeatedly over a couple of days. 

Before long he took over the front garden, swiftly moving from one end to the other with his characteristic quick and long jumps. And then he would sit staring at us with his beady black eyes, almost accusing us of trespassing his territory and disturbing his peace. He made himself comfortable in my containers, lounging in them as though he was sitting in a bathtub!

Till one morning the boys decided to reclaim the front yard, and gave the fellow a little poke in his hind side. While the first couple of pokes were met with some disdain as the bullfrog scuttled about the garden, a third push became the last straw. The fellow jumped his way straight out of the garden and the main gate, determined to find a new abode. Even as we watched half-amused, he crossed the lane and disappeared down another drain. Bye-bye, bullfrog.... till we meet again.

The Mango Tree Saga

The mango tree has always been an integral part of our love for this house. The first time we stepped in to see the house with our agent, the mango tree caught my eye. Green and lush, it gave the backyard a focal point and much-needed character. That it also produced fruits was not of much importance. What mattered was the perfect canopy it provided, given our location in the sunny tropics. 

After we had officially bought the property and repairs had commenced, the agent got the mango tree chopped a bit to give it a definitive shape. I remember it looked shorn when we moved in, and I missed its shady canopy. 

But in the next couple of years, the mango tree became lush again, and its canopy expansive. The shade it provided was so inviting that we spent many an afternoon working on our creative projects in its cool embrace. 

Situated right outside our bedroom, it was also a favourite with the birds, as their noisy chirrups woke us every morning. As we lay in bed on hot and endless summer days, looking at the lush leaves outside made us feel as if we were lying right under the mango tree. 

Just after moving in, we had an amusing episode with a bunch of local kittens who scrambled up the mango tree in a bid to escape us. You can read more about that here. For the first couple of years, the tree did not bear too many fruits. I made chutneys from the handful we got, happy to have gotten any produce at all. But last year the bees were plentiful and the tree filled up with flowers.

Soon there were fruits showing up aplenty in all the branches, filling our hearts with joy. Just the sight of them dangling cheerily, never mind the strong gusts of summer loo, gave us a lesson or two in resilience. 

And this was when the Delta strain of coronavirus was wreaking havoc everywhere. While we also lost loved ones, this tree and its bountiful fruits gave us hope. Hope that life always renews itself.

In June we harvested a huge crop of sweet, juicy mangoes that we distributed to family and neighbours as well. Basketfuls of the king of fruits right in our backyard was such an indescribable blessing!

Then in July that year, the rains came in torrents, filling up the roads and open stretches, and with water entering our houses. Even after the rains subsided, the ground remained wet and humid for weeks. That is when the termites came, making the mango tree trunk their home and eating away its roots. They ravaged the mango tree from its very core, despite all our efforts to fight them. And slowly the tree dried up, its leaves turning a sickly brown. 

We waited till spring, hoping against hope that something may sprout again. But when nothing showed up, finally last month, about a fortnight after we completed three years in this house, we had to let the tree go...

The backyard looks barren now, and we feel exposed and open to the prying eyes of neighbours. It has been heartbreaking losing the mango tree; it truly feels like losing a family member all over again. Such was the benign motherly presence of our beloved mango tree! 

A saga that ended much too soon...