Tigers

I had really not experienced India's wildlife or for that matter, any wildlife till late in life. It was only after a visit to Corbett with my cousin a few years ago that the first stirrings of interest began. This month we went down to Ranthambhore and what an experience that was! We went out for 3 rides to the National Park. The first two were relatively uneventful in as much that we did not see a tiger. But the park is beautiful and full of animals - we saw many deer, Sambhar, Chital and Nilgai. Langurs, Wild Boar and even a water snake. There were innumerable birds, including the friendly Indian Tree Pie, but no tigers.

The last ride was in the afternoon. After almost two hours we were on the way back when suddenly the jeep in front stopped and the tracker pointed out a Leopard in the distance. We could barely see it but it was better than nothing and we started off again. Hardly a few minutes later, the tracker in our jeep heard an alarm cry from the monkeys in the trees. He stopped and there she was! A young tigress, beautifully marked about 200 feet away. There was pandemonium then. 3 Jeeps and a Canter full of people tried to get closer and to track her as she moved. She was regal - totally unconcerned about the human hubub around her, unafraid of the jeeps and the people who were mesmerised by her regal walk. At one point she was just 6 feet away from the jeep on the side where I was sitting. Her eyes were like beige, glowing opals. She walked nonchalantly around, drank water from a stream all in full view of the human horde just feet away from us and finally bounded into the jungle.

The spell was broken but I realised that this was a new enchantment. This magic will not be broken for a lifetime.

Sri Lanka

We spent 7 years in Colombo. From our very first visit we fell in love with the country. It's like what India could or should have been. Quiet, fun loving, civilised people. And what a beautiful country. In such a small place there is so much diversity. There are spendid, uncrowded beaches all around the Island that soothe your soul with the gentle sound of the sea. The sun rises in Trinco and sets in Bentota while the fisherman stand on stilts to bring in their glistening catch in Matara. Then there is the Hill Country. Acres of rolling hills with manicured tea bushes. A gentle rolling mist comes in in the evening and cools the countryside. In the distance you can see gleaming waterfalls with names like St. Clair and Devon. The Hotels in the area match the ambience. Old world 'Grand' Hotels with a long bar and billiards with a fire place where you sip the first drink of the evening. Then there is the 'dry zone' where it does not rain quite as much as the rest of the island. The cuckoo sings in the evening and the leaves of the 'kohomba' trees rustle in the twilight. There is a gentle breeze and the sun breaks over the Kandalama lake. We climbed upti Ritigala with the ruins of an ancient Buddhist monastery on the slopes of the mountain. There is an even older legend of Hanuman there which still draws credulous tourists from India. There are elephants all around - wild ones who cross the roads at twilight secure in the belief that they are protected by the gentle islanders.

Truly a paradise on earth.

Rural Retreat

15 years ago, driven by visions of relaxed weekends and family fun we bought a 'farm' It's not a real farm - it's not big enough to start with but it was the ultimate Delhi status symbol... Oh, you know, we went up for a picnic to our farm near Gurgaon for the weekend! I sincerely hope that that was not what motivated us then! Now, many years later it is still there. There were only one or two straggly trees when we bought the land. We planted almost a 100 - flowering trees that grow in Haryana's sandy soil. Jacaranda, Gulmohar and Amaltas. Fruit trees too. Niboo and Shahtoot and Jamun. There was Bogenvellia on the boundary and a little green lawn with Dahlias and Seasonal Flowers all around.

We were not in Delhi for years. The farm soldiered on and we buried our beloved dog there when he died a painful death. There were some crops and caretakers. They came and went and we saw the place once a year if at all. But it is still there. And it is very peaceful. Under the fierce glare of the June sun the trees, grown up now, provide a dappled shade and the cooing of the birds is the only counterpoint to the water gushing from the tubewell.

And so a part of something gets kindled. What is is that binds you to things like land? Memories, I guess or is there something else? Some need to belong and for things to belong to you. Not for now but for a long time. Maybe forever, but that's a very long word.

And so, the grass will be replanted and the flowers will bloom again. Who will see them? Perhaps no one but the land will bloom again