Collage of pebbles

It is a terrible week in Bangalore. It has started with three day bus strike. The otherwise clogged roads, have turned into immovable mass of vehicles over these three days. However, through these never ending drives I have been looking forward to the weekend when we would start a five day break. Subhalakshmi has planned and arranged for a trip to Coorg. She joins me on Friday. By day end we are spending a wonderful evening with Mahuya, Bubun, and Shome at their place. They are just back from a wild life trip in Tanzania and Kenya. Wonderful photographs, exciting stories and delicious food keep flowing. Our yearn for the road tomorrow increases manifold. But a call from our driver interrupts us. Apparently some non-political organisations have called for a Karnataka strike tomorrow. After so many earth quake and strike infected trips to North Bengal and Sikkim, we have expected this one would be smooth. But obviously we are wrong. Last night our friend assured us that if we can cr

What is Goa? Goa is endless beaches, where colourful boats, pristine sand, azure sea, peeping coconut groves look lustfully at sun loving creatures. *** Yet, the sun is missing in the afternoon at Palolem. You walk through shallow water with your companion at heels. A motor boat, is waiting, trying to keep itself steady on dying waves.  It has promised to show you dolphin dance. Dolphins come alright. Never predictable, yet there. Their smiling faces appear for infinitesimal seconds leaving fin adorned body and tail to do the rest of the dancing. Away, the beach is oblivious of their presence Boat leaves you at a small beach surrounded by hills and forests. They call it butterfly beach. White-bellied sea eagles glide above. Drizzle starts. Undeterred, you walk through the water at twilight like a possessed soul. Waves caress your feet. Hills stand up at guard of honour. Reddish glow engulfs sea, hills, you. Boat comes back. *** What is Goa? Goa is dancing dolphins, submerged hill

This is where blue sea kisses sand whiter than the brightest sun. This is where merpeople emerge from water and wail at lost love. This is w here islet cliffs touch the whispering clouds and cast a spell of eternal bewitchment. *** At Ban Phe ferry, a speedboat waits for you. Under the cloudy sky your 14 km journey starts. The grey water melts into dark cloud at horizon. Do not worry as the boat jumps from wave to wave. Now and then a splash of water leaves salty taste on your tongue. But the taste of adventure is far stronger than sea salinity. But who is she? Crying bare-breasted, her hands outstretched, half merged into sea. Is she a demon demanding human flesh, or a local ancient who lost everything to this civilization? Dark cloud looms large over her head. But before you collect back your digressing and distressing threads of thought, the boat reaches a beach, a white beach. There is no jetty. So you jump into shallow water. Fine sand touches your fin

সে-ই একমাস আগে কাজিরাঙা থেকে ফিরেছি। কত্বদিন আর বাড়ি থাকা যায়! অতএব চলো মুসাফির। বাঁধো গাঁটরি। গাঁটরি তো বাঁধলাম। যাবো কোথায়? কেন! লাটপাঞ্চার। বছর দুই আগে ওখানে ধনেশগুলোকে বলে এসেছিলাম 'আবার দেখা হবে'। যাই। কথা রেখে আসি। আমাদের পাগলামির সঙ্গী জুটলো অমিত আর রূপা। অগতির গতি পদাতিক। সেই পৌনে ঘন্টা লেট। সন্তোষ তামাঙের সুমোতে চড়ে সেবক পৌঁছতেই প্রায় এগারো। নিউ গৌতমে প্রবল ভিড়। তাই পাশেরটাতে ঢুকে মোমো সেবা হলো। সেবক কালি মন্দিরের পাশে লাইন দিয়ে বসা বাঁদর গুলোকে খেয়াল করে দেখলাম লালমুখো নয়। অর্থাৎ আসামিজ ম্যাকাক। আর একটু এগোতেই রাস্তার ধারে একজন স্তেপ ঈগলের সাথে দেখা। ক্যামেরাতে শ্রী গণেশ হয়ে গেল। কালিঝোরার বাঁধটা পেরোতে না পেরোতেই বাম দিকে একটা রাস্তা উঠে গেছে। মোড়ের মাথাতেই পর্যটন বিভাগের একটা সাইন বোর্ড - আমার ভারি পছন্দের। এখন অনেকটাই বিবর্ণ, তবু বাদামি-গলা ধনেশের (Rufous Necked Hornbill) ছবিটা চিনতে ভুল হয় না। রাস্তা এখন থেকে দ্রুত উপরে উঠেছে। শালের জঙ্গলে রোদ্দুরের আঁকিবুকি। কালিঝোরার বাঁধে আটকে তিস্তার রং পান্না সবুজ। সামনে একটা ধ্বসপ্রবণ এলাকা ছিল না? সন্তোষ জা

And the rain came. Rain came washing the road. Rain came greying down the hill. Rain came obscuring the rainforest. Droplets covered our faces. Our tired skin soaked it like parched earth. We were content. *** Our hornbill pilgrimage was incomplete at home. After covering Malabar Pied in Western Ghats on November, next in line was Austen's Brown Hornbill. Our best chance was Dihing Patkai in Assam. But the February trip was cancelled at the last moment as the political situation became volcanic there. So on a blue evening of June we arrived at Khao Yai National Park, one of the last refuges of this unfortunate species. *** Intira and Jay are a couple. They were running this safari business for eight years now. Both are skillful naturalists. On our request they were tracking brown hornbill movement for the last few months. Good news was - a family was frequenting a tree they identified. In the morning, safari vehicles picked us up from our resort cottages. Th

In December 2017, following an obscure reference, I instinctively ordered "The Search for the Pink-Headed Duck", a 1991 title by relatively unknown American birder Rory Nugent, at Amazon. They took a while to import and deliver the paperback with not so impressive cover. While the book has quite a few wrong details, and enjoys a political view not entirely aligned with my nationalist belief system, I found it to be a fascinating tale. It is a quest in the trail of Pink-Headed Duck, now practically extinct, which used to frequent at the Gangetic plains, and riverine swamps of Myanmar. In couple of months’ time, we were at road, in the quest of another duck. A duck, that was rapidly following the footsteps of Pink-headed Duck. *** The road was well maintained but darkness of foothill evening ensued. To magnify the effect, dense vegetation started to surround us. We were lost. We left Tezpur at least 30 min back. Balipara was crossed. The car was kept on Bhalukpon