The streets of Jayanagar, a residential area in Bengaluru are strewn with spring flowers. Yellow copper pods, lilac crape myrtles, pink-and-white honges and orange gulmohurs blaze overhead and underfoot; vitality and senescence mirroring each other. The normally hard surfaces – kerb, pavement, road and concrete – are softened by fallen petals and the duff of stamens from rain trees. Every[Read More…]
I am witness to the murder of forests. To be silent in the face of this is unconscionable. I am witness to the birth of forests. To be silent in the face of this is unconscionable. I am witness to… nay… I’m beholden to…. nay…. I’m alive and breathing and who I am because of the work of forests. To be silent in the face[Read More…]
To survive the holocaust of planetary proportions that is upon us, one must defend her or get out of the way. I live across a small stream from an ancient rainforest in Wayanad, Kerala. It has a constancy that’s baffling, appearing more or less the same to me, for all the years I’ve been here. The forest sustains. As do[Read More…]
Lit by chlorophyll and the conjurations of trees, there’s a trail through a forest along the Stone River where the light never repeats. Slender and winding, this is a generous trail; always bearing gifts. Some days it offers melodies; other days, stories. Often it offers ideas and memories. It does this, I’ve now come to understand, through streams of sensory ticklings. Paintings:[Read More…]
The world in which each of us lives does not necessarily yield the world in which we all live together. Where does your world end and mine begin? I live in a world grown from tall trees, tiny tender plants and a scintillating diversity of creatures, which is covered in cloud and drenched in rain for a greater part of[Read More…]
It was a bright morning in late October, with a light breeze and no mist. Crinkled woody seeds of todayan, a beautiful tree with upturned leaves, cracked open underfoot as I walked through a rainforest at the Gurukula Botanical Sanctuary in Wayanad district, Kerala, where I live and work. Balsam capsules sprung open on touch. In the course of a few minutes,[Read More…]
Field notes from a botanical sanctuary: changing weather patterns are causing havoc to plants. I love being at home, in Wayanad, when the south-west monsoon arrives. This hilly district of northern Kerala is still full of tall trees and myriad creatures, and drenched in rain for several months in a year. From my window, I see Banasuramala, a beautiful mountain[Read More…]
First published through EarthLines Magazine, Issue 16 I sing to elephants. It’s what I do. I sing because I like to, and because I believe my elephant neighbours are comfortable in my singing presence. I sing all the time, and it’s when I sing that I know more precisely how I feel. My own speech never does justice to my[Read More…]
Let us begin with theettam. Or if you prefer, with Leelamma’s kitchen, where thee (fire) burns. Between the wood-burning stove and the community pit-loo, an ecological picaresque unfolds. Perhaps this is why, in Malayalam, theettam (excretum) and thee’tta (food) are near-homonyms.Newcomers to the language, whose ears (and tongues) cannot distinguish between ‘tt and tt (slight upward flick of[Read More…]
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Laughter was the best Medicine: Munawar Faruqui 
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Arming Against China: The US Global Posture Review 
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Biden’s two-faced policy on Yemen war 
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Our present constitutional crisis 
Goading China To Go To War 
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Calendar dedicated to farmers’ protest released by Radical Desi 
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This year has been one of the toughest. With the raging pandemic, climate crisis, wars, the failure in Glasgow….. We also have moments to celebrate with the victory of the farmers in India which was totally ignored by the mainstream media and they even tarnished the fighting farmers image and intent. We toil day and night for the betterment of[Read More…]
