Collage of pebbles

|| Evening at Nursery || “This is where trogons fly.” The words came almost in whispered tenor, punctuated by silences. The road turned steep after crossing a sinking zone. Due to a pan abandoned forest project, the place took the name of ‘Nursery’. Darkness covered us long back. The headlight of the Sumo fighting valiantly to keep them away. But the curves, woods and gorges conspired against it to make it fail. We were not afraid though. Deven is a person to be trusted with - we know him for more than five years now. His chiseled Rai face betrays little emotion, but exudes easy confidence. His superb driving skill matches with his enviable knowledge of Mahananda Wildlife Sanctuary. We believed his words immediately. “This is where trogons fly.” The air was still. A forecast of rain was looming large on us. In its anticipation, the trees hushed themselves up, nocturnal life failed to kick in. Faint lights appeared at distant hill slopes. Latpanchar arriv

“Yesterday, I was dropping another tourist party to New Bangaigaon. I offered them to visit Kakoijana for Golden Langurs. But after excellen t hornbill sighting in Manas, they were so elated that they ignored my suggestion. Now I think they made a mistake” – while driving his Sumo towards Barpeta Road, Saiful commented. We just had some excellent tête-à-tête with Golden Langurs at Kakoijana. Our young driver, Saiful was a witness. But we were not averse to hornbills at all. In fact, one of our target was to photograph three species of hornbills in Manas. So we were all ears to Saiful. “In evening, behind Mathanguri bungalow, lot of hornbills are flying from Bhutan to roost on India side for the night. Four days back, I took a Gypsy for safari. I personally sighted a large flock.” We made a mental note to plan accordingly. The usual Manas drill started from Barpeta Road. Getting booking slip from Beat Officer Kripa Nath, having a quick brunch at ‘Maa Durga Mis

The tree was not tall. It leaned over the marble tomb, the ‘Samadhi’ - as if to provide a perpetual cover. On its top, flowers were beautifu lly arranged. Fragrance from them mixed with the faint incense smoke. A faint breeze played around. The dawn had just broken. Ambient light was soft, silken. Devotees sat around the Samadhi. Some at lotus position, some at ease. Some kept their eyes closed, some stared at tomb. We took a place among them. Not a word spoken. Not even a murmur. Silence was strong, pulsating, vibrant. The unifying energy could be felt, almost touched. We soaked and melted into it. Peace, profound peace, prevailed. *** Yesterday was not so peaceful though. Indigo kept sending messages since morning announcing flight reschedule after reschedule. Apparently fog played havoc in Delhi and Bangalore - creating a ripple effect across the country. In our case, what was supposed to start by early afternoon ultimately departed 7 hours late in

|| “হে হৃদয়, একদিন ছিলে তুমি নদী” || এখানে মেঘ গাভীর মত চরেছিল। এখন, বসন্তের শুরুতে, চরাচর জুড়ে শুধু জল আর জল । কোথাও কোথাও শর আর নলখাগড়ার জঙ্গল। কাছে গেলে আঁশটে গন্ধ পাওয়া যায়। নদীর চরিত্র এখানে জটিল। পাহাড়ের উপরে বাবুদের বাঁধ নিয়ন্ত্রণ করে এখানে জলের আগমন, নির্গমন। বিরক্তি, তিক্ততা আর ঘেন্নায় তিস্তা এখানে তাই কুটিলা, জঙ্গম, পৃথুলা। জল আর জমির দ্বন্দ্ব অহর্নিশ হেথায়। তাই জলের জটিলতা সংক্রমিত আজ জমির মধ্যে। তার মতিস্থির নেই। আজ যা জেগে আছে, কাল ডুব দেবে তিস্তার বুকে। তবু নৌকার তলায় বালি দেখা যায়। বৈঠার কাজ নেই, কেবল লগির ঠেলায় চলাচল। নৌকা নেমেছে সাতসকালে। ঠাকুর মালো কাণ্ডারি। চেহারা একহারা। সন্দেহ হয়, সারাদিন লগি ঠেলতে পারবে কিনা। কিন্তু পাখি চেনে বিলক্ষণ। সব খবর রাখে। কোন হাঁস এবার দলছুট হয়ে পথ ভুলে একা একা, কোন পাখি ছটফটে, কোন বেলায় আলো পড়বে সঠিক কোণে, কোন পাখির কালো মাথায় সবুজ ঝিলিক, - সব নখদর্পনে। তাই এই বিচরণ। তিস্তা বুড়ির শরীরের আনাচে কানাচে এপার ওপার । অপার আকাঙ্ক্ষা অতিথিদের দেখার। রোদ শরের ডগা স্পর্শ করেছে মাত্র। রাঙামুড়ি (রেড ক্রেস্টেড পোচার্ড),