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A Beguiling Beauty . . .

4/29/2020

As I was strolling amidst the magnificent ambiance of Kailasanathar Kovil at Kanchipuram, I was assiduously searching for some remnants of the Pallava murals. It is said that the walls and the interiors of the fifty eight sub shrines of the temple were once covered with paintings of myriad hues. Almost all the paintings on the exterior walls have been lost and only few faint fragments remain inside some of the sub shrines.

I looked keenly in each of niches of the sub shrines and finally could spot this beautiful visage of an unknown person in one of its dark corners. I had to bend my head at an awkward angle to have a glimpse of it. What I saw in the dim light left me spellbound. In spite of the vagaries of time and years of neglect, her face looked so ethereal! There was a haunting wistfulness in her face. Who was this doe eyed damsel? Did she emerge from the creative imagination of an artist who remains unidentified? Or was she real? There is something Elysian in the beautiful brush strokes of the artist, the play of light across the face and the choice of colors. In spite of its fading layers and evanescent tints which seem to have deliquesced with time, there is a transcendental quality to the painting that lingers on.

When I looked at her closely I felt that there was a striking resemblance to the paintings of Ajanta. It left me wondering whether the artists who painted them at Ajanta migrated over a period of time southwards! It is a fact of history too that the Pallava dynasty gained prominence after the eclipse of the Satavahanas whom they served as feudatories.

The paintings at Kailasanathar temple along with the remnants at Talagishwara temple at Panamalai are the only two surviving examples of the Pallava mural paintings.

Lurking in the shadows
Her mysterious allure
Shines through
The veils of history . . .

Murals are my muse and I have posted earlier about several of them which I was privileged to see. This link which is about the murals of Hampi also has links to earlier posts about murals in Switzerland, Rajasthan and Kerala:
https://www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/entrancing-murals-of-hampi

In February this year, after lots of efforts and assistance from various sources, I was able to have a glimpse of several ancient murals which are away from the public eye in some of the most ancient temples in Tamil Nadu.

Will write about them soon….watch this space!

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Bonds That Endure . . .

4/15/2020

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This morning as I was listening to the bird calls, something caught my attention. A small leaf shimmering in the early morning light was twirling in midair. Its pirouette would have put a talented ballet dancer to shame. It was careening through space as if testing an invisible force in the air. Slowly it descended down and found its home, secure among the other leaves under the tree.

For a moment I pictured myself sitting under the tree and that leaf falling on my lap as a book.

As we course through our lives, we try to seek comfort in those persons or things that convey a sense of belonging, and for me personally it has always been amongst books.

My passion for books has its origin in my mother, Saraswathi Ramnath. She lost her father who was a Gandhian and a popular doctor early in life and was married at the tender age of sixteen. In addition to being a housewife, she had to bring up her brother and an infant sister. Caught up in these demands, she couldn’t pursue higher education. She too was drawn to Gandhi and when he gave a call that learning and using a common language, Hindi, would unite the nation against the colonial power, she pursued it on her own with zest and qualified as a Vidwan. That opened up an immense vista of discovery of Indian literature and she commenced writing, focusing on translating from Hindi to Tamil and vice versa.

My earliest memories of her are the ones when I see her quietly sitting by herself, after finishing household chores, writing furiously. This practice continued all through her life. Her days were filled with bring up three children, one of whom was differentially-abled, taking care of the household, teaching students Hindi and writing. Even now I am amazed as to how she found time amongst all these demanding tasks to pursue her call.

She was the one who introduced me to books. There was no cake on birthdays but a stack of children’s books. I devoured them as fast as they came and my ambit of reading expanded with years. She would take me to the Connemara Library when she had to do her research for her writings and I would wander among its beautiful environs with soaring ceilings and books stacked on high racks. There were volumes of the Illustrated London News beautifully bound in leather and art books containing beautiful reproductions. Running my hands over them was itself an idyllic experience. It was a tantalizing world, just waiting at my fingertips. I devoured all the books I could lay my hands on and it wasn’t surprising that I needed glasses at an early age!

It wasn’t just books but also authors I was besotted with. All the leading writers in Tamil would visit our house and there would be lively exchange of ideas. I would watch silently from the side amazed at their breadth of knowledge. As a child, I would keenly look forward to visit Azha Valliappa’s house where he used to arrange weekly story telling sessions “Kathai Sollum Nigazhchi”. His wife would provide us with snacks, and we would settle down to listen to his stories. He would also encourage us to sing along with him. Another visitor was the poet Namakkal Ramalingam Pillai. He used to collect all the children in the place where we stayed and tell us stories. As I grew older I was smitten with the writings of Jayakanthan. To hear him articulate his ideas with such conviction and clarity was an unforgettable experience. I had a long personal association with Ashokamitran. He would often sit in a quiet corner of a park near our house and write. He was a keen observer of human feelings and frailties which he described with a subtle sense of humor.

My mother was also involved in organizing the First All India Writers Conference in which all leading writers from across the country participated. As a small boy in half shorts I ambled among them clutching my autograph book requesting them to sign in it. The first person to sign in it was Tarashankar Banerjee. It is my most precious possession which I have guarded against the ravages of time.

Books continued to flow from the pen of my mother. She had three major surgeries and a very rare malignancy later on in life. But travails of the body had little impact on her abiding engagement with literature. She must have written more than a hundred books across various genres. She wrote a series of books on the major rivers of India, chronicling their history, legends associated with them as they traverse the land from their origin till they merge into the sea.

Her forte was translation. That was no mean task especially at a time when Hindi was anathema in Tamil Nadu. Through her work she opened avenues of readership across the nation for all leading writers in Tamil. She translated Kamba Ramayanam into Hindi and the President at that time Sri Shankar Dayal Sharma, read the book and invited her over to the Rashtrapathi Bhavan to personally felicitate her. Many accolades and award came later in life, Dwivageesh Award from Bharatiya Anuwaad Parishat, Akshara Award, Kendriya Hindi Sanstan Award, Souhardha Samman from Uttar Pradesh Govt, Saraswathi Puraskar, Award from Shantiniketan in recognition of her contribution to Indian literature through translation and then the Sahithya Academy Award.

Her passion for the world of literature was infectious. She taught generations of students, encouraging them to explore works of literature. Hearing her explain Kabir’s dohas was an unforgettable experience.

Understandably she has had a huge impact on me. With her by my side I have ventured into the vast landscape of literary works, unraveling in the process the far reaches of creativity expressed through words. Though I miss her physical presence, every time I discover an unknown author or savor a new book, I feel that she is along with me relishing every word of it. When I leaf through her books which have weathered with time and whose pages have become brittle, I am reminded of her unabated struggles in writing them.

Much has been written about how pain and suffering interweave with creativity. The connection between suffering and creative expression is one of the most elusive of human stories. All through her life my mother’s body was ravaged by one illness or the other. But that didn’t reign in her spirits. She embraced her pains and they became a partner in her life. Her creative trope transcended the travails of her physical body. She had to endure a plethora of adversities, yet in the midst of them her spirits soared like the phoenix.

Her life has been an inspiration in my professional disposition in addressing the needs of those who are in throes of suffering. I strive to provide space for patients to tell their stories, uninterrupted. We all live in storied lives and want to share our stories with a responsive listener. Often stories that are told in therapy are the ones that cannot be told in everyday life.

My love of books continues unabated as witnessed in the shelves overflowing with them at home. In spite of Ahalya cautioning me not to add to them, I follow Oscar Wilde’s dictum that “the best way to get rid of temptation is to yield to them” and keep buying books. Turns out that bibliophileness is genetic! I seem to have passed the bibliophene gene on to our son Rahul too! For me books are like a Borgesian kaleidoscope, in which each reflection sparks another one..no pattern is ever the same and every book is a new revelation. And I owe that debt to my mother…

I am a book
Foreward
Written by my mother…

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From The Shelter Of Silence...

4/3/2020

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When I was studying at JIPMER, Pondicherry, one of my favorite haunts in the city was Honesty Book Shop which was manned by one of the gentlest person I have ever known. He was the one who introduced me to RD Laing. During one such visit, he silently handed over a paperback titled Space Within The Heart by Aubrey Menen. I returned to my room and finished the book at one stretch. The writer, after the demise of his biracial parents was driven by a quest to discover his personal identity. He isolated himself in a small room in the Thieves Quarter in Rome and proceeded to examine his life peeling off layer after layer of his personality and the events that had shaped it in the past, to finally arrive at the silent “space within the heart”. I was drawn to the evocative narrative about the search for self in isolation. Around that time, I also read a small account in a journal about a French aristocrat Xavier de Maistre who was placed in house arrest for 42 days in 1790.

I tried to imagine and visualize as to how a person would experience and cope with isolation for long periods. One day I requested my close friend Surendran to pose behind a partly closed door and took a photograph with a borrowed camera. When I described this to Mr Krishnan in the photography section at JIPMER, he was intrigued by it and helped me to take a print of it. I titled it ‘From The Shelter Of Silence’. Encouraged by him, I sent it to the All India Intermedical Youth Festival at AIIMS where it received the first prize and a commendation.

During the period of enforced lockdown due to COVID, I was wondering whether I could get hold of the journal kept by Xavier de Maistre and was fortunate to locate a copy of it, ‘Voyage Around My Room’. It was a fascinating read!

In 1790 Xavier de Maistre was punished for having gotten into a duel and was put under house arrest for forty-two days. de Maistre adroitly took advantage of his sequestration, finding within his own four walls a wealth of material to dwell on and kept a journal. Physically, de Maistre could not roam far and so most of the travels were, indeed, leaps of the imagination -- but he did find a surprising amount of material in his fairly comfortable room. He invites us to join him… “we will travel in short marches…yielding merrily to our imagination, we will follow it wherever it pleases to lead us”. He slowly leads the reader around the room, describing the pictures on the walls, the vistas and prospects within and beyond the room, exploring and dwelling on objects that are otherwise taken for granted. And what he sees brings back vibrant memories and leads him to look at things anew. The room is "that enchanted realm containing all the wealth and riches of the world".

At one point, de Maistre, is startled by what he sees outside his window: “A heap of unfortunate folk, lying half naked under the porches of those sumptuous apartments, on the point of expiring from cold and misery. What a sight! I wish this page of my book could be known throughout the world; I would like it to be known that, in this city—where everything breathes opulence—during the coldest winter nights, a host of wretches sleep out in the open, with only a boundary stone on which to lay their heads. Here you see a group of children huddling close together so as not to die of the cold. There it’s a woman, shivering and voiceless to complain. The passers-by come and go, quite untouched by a sight to which they are used”.

de Maistre proceeds at a leisurely pace and the journey is non linear, offering us rich insights as to how a person in confinement can cope with isolation through heightened perception and vivid imagination. Written in the form of short chapters, each one is like a polished gem.
de Maistre’s work springs from a profound insight: that the pleasure we derive from our journeys is perhaps dependent more on the mindset with which we travel than on the destination we travel to. If only we could apply a travelling mindset to our own rooms and confined spaces, we might find these places becoming no less interesting than the world outside.

In this world of hyper-chatter, we are less likely to observe and hear ourselves and unwittingly COVID has provided us with such an opportunity…

It is a break in our everyday busyness in which we immerse ourselves. The first thing we experience is silence the moment we retreat from the outside world.

The roots of the English term “silence” has its antecedents is the Gothic verb anasilan, a word that denotes the wind dying down, and the Latin dēsinere, a word meaning “stop.” Both of these etymologies suggest that silence is bound up with the idea of interrupted action. The pursuit of silence likewise begins with a surrender of the chase, the abandonment of efforts to impose our will and vision on the world. Not only is it about standing still, it is also a step inwards from the tussle of life.

My first experience of immense silence was when we spent a night in the sand dunes of Khuri. The silence of the desert took hold and overwhelmed me. It was the deepest silence I have ever known. There was nothing to hear. It was absolutely still, absolutely silent. The desert night was not very dark and the sky was deep – the stars did actually ‘twinkle’, and I had a sense of their distance – even distant stars seemed near, as well as larger or brighter. The starlit sky was an infinite space and one could gaze at it forever. Underneath my hand when I reached out from the dhurrie, the sand was made of tiny grains, very cool and clean, fine-textured, soft against my fingers. It was probably the most profound silence I had ever engaged with. Perhaps this is the silence that hermits seek in the desert.

Glimpses of the magical sandscapes of Khuri are at: photos.app.goo.gl/PyRP2rSB88Pt84w8A

We all live very noisy lives. Our silent spaces in cities have become constricted. It is not surprising to note that the word “noise,” derives from the Latin root nausea! We probably do not need a pervasive silence—desirable as this might seem. What we do need is more spaces in which we can interrupt our general experience of noise. We must also aspire to a greater proportion of hushed stillness in the course of our everyday life. And realize that many of the major physical forces on which we depend are silent – gravity, electricity, light.

We have not been locked away; we have been given an opportunity to silently discover a range of unfamiliar, sometimes daunting experiences, to maximize the connection with our inner worlds. It has given us a space to appreciate a great deal of what we generally see without ever properly noticing them. As Thoreau suggested we will have to become “our own streams and oceans; to explore our own higher latitudes.”

After these transformative few weeks we will recover our freedoms. The world will be ours to roam in, once more. As we resume our journey in the garden of life, hopefully we will see it from a different perspective than that we were accustomed to…

As Seneca commented long ago,“We are waves of the same sea, leaves of the same tree, flowers of the same garden.”

Looking forwards to your comments...and do post them here!

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Lure Of Lepakshi

3/20/2020

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On an impulse we decided to visit Lepakshi a few weeks ago.It was a smooth drive on almost empty roads and we reached there around 9 in the morning.

This time around we wanted to have a closer look at the murals that adorn the ceilings of the temple.

The rulers of the Vijayanagar empire embellished many of their splendid temples with exquisite murals. I had written sometime ago about the murals in Virupaksha temple: https://www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/entrancing-murals-of-hampi

Unfortunately many of them are in varying states of decay. The paintings at Lepakshi also met a similar fate through years of neglect. It was however very gratifying to see that some attempts have been made of late, to restore them without affecting their underlying character.

The paintings can be seen in many parts of the temple, but the most well preserved ones are on the ceilings of the Rangamantapa. It must have been an arduous task to paint on granite ceilings. The colour palettes are quite varied; ranging from earth-red, black, green, yellow and white. The figures appear to have been drawn with a stylus rather than a brush by the artists. There is a wealth of fine detail, ranging from expression on the faces to the patterns in the dress, jewellery and headgear. Exceptionally talented master painters of the era must have worked diligently on these remarkable creations.

Let us now look at some of the contents of these paintings…
Kindly click on the link to view the paintings in google photos...and associate them with the descriptions in the text here!

THE STORY OF MANUNEEDHI CHOLAN
photos.app.goo.gl/MyA9bXebbdfpxaMX8
There was an ancient Chola king called Ellalan who lived around 235-161 BCE. He ruled parts of southern India and his capital was Thiruvarur in Tamil Nadu. He was well respected for his sense of justice and rule of law and since he followed the principles of Manu Needhi, he was known as Manuneethi Cholan. He reportedly hung a huge bell in front of his palace and announced that anyone seeking justice could ring the bell and their voice would be heard.
One day his son, the young prince went around the city in his chariot. People cheered him wherever he went and welcomed him by beating drums and with pipes. A young calf terrified with the loud noises ran berserk and got itself crushed under the wheels of the prince's chariot. The mother of the calf helplessly watched its little one die .The cow walked to the palace gates and rang the bell demanding justice from the king. The king came out and saw the cow and learnt about the death of the young calf under the wheels of his son's chariot. He kept his promise and ordered his son to be killed for his recklessness. The prince was killed the same way the calf had died and was crushed under the wheels of the chariot. The Lord appeared and praised the king for upholding justice and brought the prince and the calf back to life. A stone chariot in Thyagaraja Swamy temple at Thiruvarur stands testimony to this episode.

The legend of this righteous king is portrayed in a panel on the ceiling of the temple.

Men are gathered around the chariot driven by the young prince. The calf which has been run over can be seen clearly under the central wheel of the chariot. Hearing about the incident the king is rushing to hear the cow’s account. He then orders the prince to be punished. The chariot carrying the dead calf, with the grieving cow licking it, is driven over the prince, crushing him to death. A rain of flowers falls from above. Shiva and Parvati appear before the king and in the concluding panel, the prince is miraculously restored to life, watched by host of ganas.

SCENES FROM KIRATARJUNIYA
photos.app.goo.gl/TUELUquHevnWCGvG8
Kiratarjuniya is a Sanskrit epic poem written by Bharavi in the 6th Century AD, describing the interaction between Arjuna and Lord Shiva in the guise of a kirata or mountain-dwelling hunter. Facing the prospect of war against the Kauravas at the end of their exile, Arjuna is advised by the sage Vyasa to seek divine weapons. Reminded of the humiliation that his brothers and his wife Draupadi faced during the dice game where they lose their entire kingdom, Arjuna decides to perform an austere penance. Arjuna endures the hardships of the weather and overcomes many temptations, standing steadfast in his goal. Pleased with his penance, Shiva decides to test his valor by appearing as a hunter, with both of them shooting a wild boar simultaneously and arguing over who shot first. Upon realizing that he is unable to win, Arjuna at last recognizes Shiva and surrenders to him. Shiva then grants him the powerful Pashupatastra.

Unfortunately many scenes from this story have vanished. One can see Arjuna making his way to Indirakila hill. There is also a striking depiction of Indra. He is seen carrying the vajra with flaming tips in his hands. He is flanked by three attendants, who are wearing elegantly patterned dhotis. They are listening attentively to Narada on the left. In the next panel one can see Arjuna performing penance with his bow and arrow by his side. Pleased with his dedication, Indra appears in divine form with four arms. He encourages Arjuna to pray to Shiva in order to receive the Pashupatastra, the magic weapon that can ensure victory over the Kauravas. Arjuna prostrates himself before Indra. Impressed with the intensity of Arjuna’s penance the rishis report to Shiva. Parvati is seen carrying a lotus in her hands. Shiva is seated on a throne, his upper hands carrying the mriga and parashu. Every detail of Shiva’s dress and jewellery is beautifully rendered.

Shiva and Parvathy walk through the forest. They are seen wearing leafy garments and headgear. A boar, the Danava Muka in disguise appears before them. One can also see Arjuna in deep meditation, sitting on top of a hill. The intensity of this tapas is expressed by the jatas standing on end. The wild boar, baring his sharp tusks is seen running through the forest charging everyone in sight. The forest animals and sages are running in fear, with two of them falling on the ground. The chaos in the air is beautifully painted.

Sadly the concluding scenes of the story have almost disappeared, with just some traces which are difficult to decipher.

MARRIAGE OF SHIVA AND PARVATHI
photos.app.goo.gl/19K2PgUeSKJFt52s9
In the first panel Parvati is seen seated wearing a chequered saree. She is holding a palm leaf manuscript in the uplifted hand, some leaves of which are strewn on the ground. A musician playing a tambura is seen behind. Is she reading some texts from the palm leaves before her wedding?

In the next panel Shiva is shown wearing the characteristic tiger skin, carrying the deer and axe in the upper hands. Parvati, escorted by attendants stands in front of Shiva, her head slightly bent. She is seen carrying a lotus in her left hand while offering the right hand to Shiva. Do not fail to notice a diminutive Nandi jumping joyfully between the couple! To the left of Paravati are her parents, Mena and Himavan. Himavan is carrying a kamandala in his raised hand and is about to solemnize the wedding by pouring water on the hands of the couple.

Brahma is seen sitting in front of the sacred fire, ostensibly performing various rituals. By his side are the dikpalas, headed by Indra, recognized by the vajras held in the upper hands. By his side are the two headed Agni with flames emanating from his crown, and Yama with fangs protruding from his mouth. The remaining dikpalas are also seen.

By the side of Himavan and Mena are three women, two of them raise their hands as if to bless the couple while the third one is seen carrying a book. By their side is Vishnu, with his chakra and shanku.

MARRIAGE OF ARJUNA
photos.app.goo.gl/2XNavbsUQGLG7Wbn6
This panel which has survived vagaries of time shows Draupadi sitting on the right thigh of Drupada ostensibly watching Arjuna hit the revolving fish target. The four Pandava princes, all wearing tall crowns, celebrate the wedding of their brother by pouring the auspicious rice over the couple. By the side is seen Krishna.

ASPECTS OF SHIVA
photos.app.goo.gl/RXwaKcF3Tua7uPCV7
Portrayal Of Shiva
This is an exquisite painting of Shiva with wonderful details of his dress and ornamentations.
Rescue Of Markendeya or Lingodhbhavamurthi
In this panel, Shiva is emerging from the top of the Linga which is set on a high pitha. The youthful devotee is paying respects to the God after his rescue. However in a departure from traditional renderings, he is not shown clutching the shaft of the Linga. One can catch a glimpse of Yama on the right. Shiva is portrayed holding the axe and fire in the upper hands, the lower hands are in abhaya and varada mudra.
Dakshinamurthy
Here Shiva is seated beneath a tree, atop a pile of rocks, intended to represent Mount Kailas. He is dressed in a leopard skin. On his right is Narada, the left arm extended as if reciting or singing with the veena resting on his right shoulder. He is followed by a group of rishis, the last of whom is a dark complexioned sadhu, with a prominent tilak on his forehead He is clad in loin cloth and is carrying a kamandala in his right hand and a leopard skin is draped over his right shoulder. Wonder who he is!
Bhikshatanamurthi
In this panel, Shiva is shown walking through the forest, indicated by two trees. He is accompanied by a gana carrying a large container on his head and a leaping deer. He carries the damaru in the upper right hand, the trishula held in the upper left hand rests on the shoulder; the lower right hand hangs loosely on the side. In the lower left hand Shiva is carrying a bowl in which one of the rishi patnis pours some rice. What is striking is that the end of her white saree is slipping from her shoulder, revealing her breasts and abdomen! Her hair is tied in a large bun adorned with white flowers. Two rishis witness this on the other side.
Bhairava
Bhairava is depicted in a graceful tribhanga pose. His vahana, a dog, is at his feet. The God is shown with long flowing hair, fangs protruding from his mouth and wearing a garland of skulls. In one of the right arms, he is carrying a severed head. To his right is a diminutive devotee with folded hands. Interestingly Bhairava has an unusually benign expression and his gaze is directed away from the devotee!

DESIGN ELEMENTS
photos.app.goo.gl/VC1QxeNRQxAfAHoQ8

It is striking to note that all the figures portrayed in these paintings display a wealth of richly patterned garments, elaborate jewellery and interesting hair styles! There is an amazing variety of designs in the garments and textiles worn by the figures portrayed in the paintings. There are patterns with stripes, checks, flowers and flowing vines. Interestingly, both Parvati and Draupadi are seen wearing sarees with checkered designs during their wedding! Most of the floral designs show single blossoms, surrounded by tiny black curls, stylized vines or leaves. Even the dhoties worn by male figures display enchanting, intricate designs! There is rich detailing of ornaments worn by both male and female figures. Most of the panels are embellished with ornately executed borders with captivating designs. These designs have been an enduring source of inspiration for artisans down the centuries. Their impact can be seen even till date on the compositions of Kalamkari art.

SCULPTURES
photos.app.goo.gl/GnVrX55dVPyRemy97

The enchanting sculptures have withstood the impact of time and weather much better. After spending a major part of our stay in the temple carefully examining the murals, we walked around the natyamantapa and the unfinished kalyanamantapa, savoring the fascinating array of sculptures adorning these two structures. The high relief sculptures are large and mostly depict Gods and Goddesses and the low relief sculptures adorning the pillars of the mandapas, depict demi gods, fauna and flora.

By then it was noon and it was difficult to walk on the granite stones which were radiating heat. With much reluctance we exited from the temple complex with one lasting look at the dancing lady with a serene facial expression sculpted on the doorway…she seemed to beckon us to visit the temple again!

In every nook and corner of this magnificent edifice, dreams of unknown artisans find their expression through chisel and brush…

There are scores of photos in the google links, take your time and have a look at them at your leisure!

Look forward to your comments here...and kindly don't post them in google photos!

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Tryst With An Elusive Owl

3/4/2020

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I have a particular fondness for owls. We have had good sighting of them invariably in all our forays into the wild . But one particular species of owls, the Great Horned Owl or Indian Eagle Owl has evaded us in all our peregrinations in the wild.

Last year we visited the Nanmangalam Reserve Forest on the outskirts of Chennai, which is reputed to have resident Indian Eagle Owls. Our hopes surged when we were greeted by a huge poster of the bird at the entrance. It had rained heavily the previous day and we gingerly made our way through the muddy trails with much anticipation. There is a disused quarry in the middle of the forest where the owls are said to reside. We scanned the vast terrain, inch by inch to locate the bird, as it camouflages itself perfectly inside the rocky crevices. Alas, with little luck. There was a tinge of disappointment but being in the verdant landscape as the sun cast its first rays through the clouds itself was an immersive experience.

We made another attempt to have a glimpse of the bird early this year. This time around, it was an onerous task to get permission from the forest department. Finally we entered the reserve with the precious permission letter in our hands. The sun was already up and the forest was full of bird sounds. With renewed hope that the Indian Eagle Owl would offer us a ‘darshan’, we stationed ourselves on the edge of the quarry. We must have spent over thirty minutes but there was no presence of the bird in that huge quarry. As we made our way back, we were greeted by a host of butterflies fluttering around which buoyed our sagging spirits.

A few weeks ago, we were on a visit to Tirunelveli to have a detailed look at the sculptures and paintings that adorn the temples in the region. On the last day of our visit, we went over to Koonthankulam to meet our old friend Pal Pandian. Pal Pandian is a legendary forest guard who has devoted his life to conservation of birds in the region. I had known him for decades and it was a pleasure to catch up with him again. He gave me a hug and said “Doctor, let us go and have a look at the Indian Eagle Owl”. This was the moment I was waiting for, for years. We made our way to a rocky terrain and there it was, the majestic bird, looking at us from a crevice high up on the hill.

I was transfixed! It was looking straight at me with its lovely big eyes. The Indian Eagle Owl is quite large, with characteristic, prominent ear tufts. The eyes are orange red with black plumage above the eyes which begins in the center of the eyes and stretches up to the ear tufts. Its erect stance was much akin to a yogic posture. Just being in that moment, silently observing the majestic bird was itself an entrancing experience.

With its enormous eyes it can see well in even the faintest of light while its ears can hear the faintest of sounds, even the distant sound of a squeaking mouse. It flies silently and once it has its prey in sight, the owl grabs it with both feet, killing it instantly. Then it swallows the animal in its entirety. After several hours, the owl coughs up the fur and large bones of the victim. The coughed up lumps are called ‘pellets’.

Owls have a long history..

They are supposed to be amongst the oldest of the vertebrate animals in existence as fossils dating back to more than sixty million years have been found.

The earliest depictions of owls appear during the Upper Paleolithic period, within the Aurignacian cultural tradition. These are the people who are recognized as the first modern humans in Europe. The first image of an owl is reported from Chauvet cave in southern France and dates to sometime between 32,000 and 35,000 years ago.

In ancient Greece, Athena was the goddess of wisdom and owls nested in the Acropolis in Athene. Thus they became associated with the goddess, as their scientific name ‘Athene noctua’ indicates. Greek coinage of the time displayed the head of Athena on one side and the likeness of the owl on the other. These Greek coins were known colloquially as ‘owls’, and in his play The Birds, Aristophanes jokes that silver owls are the best kind because they ‘will never leave you; they will dwell in your home and nest in your purse, hatching out small change’. In Greek pottery, owls were often shown on vases depicting worship of Athena. Reportedly, the American president Theodore Roosevelt used to carry an Athenian owl piece with him as a lucky charm.

In ancient Rome the goddess Athena became transformed into the goddess Minerva. When the Roman armies subdued those of the Greeks, they co-opted their guardian deity and borrowed her sacred bird and made it their own. Attached to Minerva however, the owl fared less well because there was already a widespread belief among the Roman populace that owls were evil creatures and symbols of death. In his great book Natural History, Pliny the Elder says of the owl that ‘if he be seen to ﬂy either within cities, or otherwise abroad in any place, it is not for good, but prognosticates some fearful misfortune’.

The Aztecs and Mayans hated and feared owls as symbols of death and destruction. The ancient Egyptians had a kinder view of owls, believing that they protected the spirits of the dead as they traveled to the netherworld. In medieval Christian folklore the owl was seen as a demonic force: it’s very presence was an ill-omen.

Native American tribes scared their children with stories of owls waiting in the dark to carry them away. There is also an intriguing Indian tale which portrays the Great Horned Owl as having a magic love flute. Once a haughty girl was lured into the forest by its enchanting music, but rejected the Great Horned Owl as a suitor. Later she heard the music again and was unable to resist following it. She was then carried off by the Great Horned Owl. Eventually she learnt to accept that her husband was an owl, because, "Women have to get used to their husbands, no matter who they are”!

The Tartar rulers believed that Genghis Khan was saved by the owl. When his horse was shot in one of the battles he ran for his life and hid under a bush. His enemies came looking for him. At that time an owl came and sat on the tree under which he was hiding. They did not even come near that tree reasoning that the owl would not have sat there if any man had been hiding under the tree. The owl thus earned a permanent place in their emblems, the arms of the Tartar rulers depicting an owl on a golden shield.

In India, Lakshmi the goddess of wealth and prosperity has an owl for a vehicle apart from an elephant. Perhaps she uses the elephant while travelling on land, and the owl for her forays in the sky! There is some speculation that the owl might actually represent Lakshmi’s consort, Vishnu. But the idea that Lakshmi would ride on her own husband might be a source of discomfort to purists.

If you look closely there is striking and strange similarity between the owl and the icons in worship at Puri Jagannath!

The question is, why do we associate so many things with owls? What is our attraction to this bird? In his landmark work, The Naked Ape, Desmond Morris reports on a survey of favorite animals conducted as part of a children's zoo television program. He concludes that animals favored by humans are those with the most humanoid features. Owls qualify by having rounded outlines, flat faces, facial expressions and vertical postures.

Owls have been woven into the fabric of literature. At times they are depicted as dignified, wise old scholars and at other times as foreboding voyeurs who see all.

Let me outline a few of these depictions in Tamil literature.

A stanza in Natrinai (verse 83) a poetic work of Sangam era vividly describes two lovers meeting under an old tree. The Thalaivi (lady love) asks the owl nesting in the tree to keep quiet and not disturb their private moments in return for which she promises the fowl a share of rat meat fried in ghee!

எம் ஊர் வாயில் உண்துறைத் தடைஇய
கடவுள் முது மரத்து, உடன் உறை பழகிய,
தேயா வளை வாய், தெண் கண், கூர் உகிர்,
வாய்ப் பறை அசாஅம், வலி முந்து கூகை!
மை ஊன் தெரிந்த நெய் வெண் புழுக்கல்,
எலி வான் சூட்டொடு, மலியப் பேணுதும்;
எஞ்சாக் கொள்கை எம் காதலர் வரல் நசைஇத்
துஞ்சாது அலமரு பொழுதின்,
அஞ்சு வரக் கடுங் குரல் பயிற்றாதீமே.

Oh owl of great strength, with curved beak,
clear eyes and sharp claws, who lives on a huge, old
tree where god resides, near our town’s pond!
Please do not hoot
When my lover is on his way
with your drum-like, harsh voice that causes fear,
We’ll take good very care of you
And feed you rat meat cooked with clear ghee and white rice
If you do not hoot!

In his epic Tamil novel Koogai, Cho Dharman uses the metaphor of an owl to narrate a tale of oppression that dalits and tribals are subjected to. It is virtually an ethnographic documentation of the lives of the lower-caste people in Chitthiraikudi village and their near exodus to the slums of Kovilpatti. The novel abounds in instances of oppression meted out to the Dalits by the dominant middle caste groups — false cases, forced sexual assaults, insults and thrashings. The owl on the other hand visits at important moments, emerging as a guardian spirit and a magical messiah. It saves children, foretells the future, guards the devotees and in many ways organizes the marginal sections of the society. Dharman explains that the wise bird is a poignant yet powerful metaphor of the plight of Dalits: “flying free and enjoying their rights over the forest" but forced to “live an invisible life". The owl is a symbol for all the oppressed communities, especially Dalits, as it is mostly unsung and underrated, considered to be inauspicious, dark and ugly. It is teased and attacked during the day even by sparrows as it cannot see in the overpowering sunlight and hence prefers invisibility. But it realizes it true strength at night when it is left to itself.

Perumal Murugan, award winning writer, poet and scholar has written an evocative poem on the owl…

இருட்டுக்கும் குரலுண்டு
ஆந்தையின் அலறலது
பொருட்டாக்கிக் கேட்டால் பல
பொருளுணர்த்தும் மொழியாகும் (இருட்டுக்கும்)
அனுபல்லவி
இருளின் கனத்தை உடைத்து
பெருத்த அமைதி கலைத்துத்
தரும்பயம் போக்கிப் பேசும் (இருட்டுக்கும்)
சரணம்
உருட்டி விழிக்கும் கண்கள்
உருளும் பந்தாய் மிளிரும்
விருட்டென்று வாய்திறந்து
மருட்டி அலறி ஒலிக்கும்
விரித்து மனதைத் திறந்தால்
சிரிக்கும் குழந்தைக் குரல்போல்
இருளை உருக்கி நெஞ்சில்
முருகு பெருக்கி வளர்க்கும் (இருட்டுக்கும்)

Darkness finds its voice
In the owl
It’s voice has many a meaning
If you listen to it carefully
Piercing the stillness
Of the night
It speaks fearlessly
Its wide eyes
Glow in the night
And when it consumes
The darkness around within itself
It laughs like a child

You can listen to a mellifluous rendering of this poem by TM Krishna:
youtu.be/LFzGKbW72gY

The owl is indeed a very intriguing bird. It is perhaps the only bird that has captured the imagination of human beings across centuries. It has been a symbol of shifting and seemingly antithetical qualities—hulking observer and swift hunter, totem of wisdom and escort of the occult. These disparate qualities have kindled human imagination through time to inspire so many stories, myths, fables and folk tales!

I particularly like this rhyme which appeared in Punch magazine in 1875:
There was an owl lived in an oak,
The more he heard the less he spoke,
The less he spoke the more he heard
Oh, if men were all like that wise bird.

A timely advice in these times!

Incidentally, the English language does have a collective name for owls. A group of them is referred to as a parliament of owls. Whether they acquired this name because they are thought to be wise or because there is a belief that they are wicked is not so clear!

Glimpses of the Indian Eagle Owl At: photos.app.goo.gl/Kg2cb9Q9CKSxhBsw7

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Notes On The Year Gone BY . . .

12/25/2019

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In the passing of a year, we are often tempted to look back and take stock of ourselves and the flow of our lives. While this can sometimes engender a few ‘ought to/should have been’ moments, it can also throw up many unforgettable experiences. Here in words and pictures are some of those from our travels this year.

(Photographs of Sykes Nightjar, Tiger, Sura Sundari, Mosale and Theyyam are at the bottom. Others have individual links to earlier posts!)

1) We began 2019 amidst the transcendental expanse of the surreal landscape of the Rann of Kutch. It was a trip in the making for a long time! A diligent search took us to the CEDO (Centre for Desert and Ocean) home stay. CEDO is the brain child of one of the most amazing conservationists we have ever met, Sri Jugal Tiwari. With an amazing commitment to the cause of environment and an impressive array of research publications, Sri Tiwari is truly an inspiration. We were privileged to have his company during our forays into the vast expanse of the Great Rann of Kutch and learnt so much from him about the fauna and flora of the land. We saw an incredible range of bird life about which I will be posting a longer account later. On the last day of our stay, after witnessing a glorious sunset which draped the landscape in golden hues, as we were slowly making our way back to the home stay, we had a glimpse of the ever elusive Sykes Nightjar in fading light.

2) A month later, we ventured onto Panna. The landscape of Panna is mesmerizing with the pristine river Ken flowing through it. We stayed at the Sarai at Torria which is the brain child of the well known conservation biologist Dr Raghu and his wife Joanna, wild life photographer. It is like a slice of heaven with beautifully designed cottages and fantastic food. We enjoyed a boat ride in the river Ken, safaris in Panna and village walks. On our first safari, this majestic tiger crossed our path, just a few feet away!

3) Onto Khajuraho! We explored the various groups of temples over three days at a very leisurely pace with a wonderful guide who was well versed in the history and aesthetics of the temples. Each one was so distinctive from the other. We gazed with awe at the spectacular sculptures adorning the walls of these temples, which come alive with the play of light through the day. Khajuraho isn’t just about erotic sculptures which constitute just 10% of all the carvings. There is a profusion of other sculptures depicting gods and goddesses, scenes from common life and beautifully etched Sura Sundaris. Sura Sundaris are graceful nymphs attired in choicest of garments and bedecked with the finest jewellery. They are shown in various poses: looking at the mirror, washing their hair, applying collyrium to their eyes or plucking out a thorn from the foot. Here’s one image of them writing a letter. I will be posting a very detailed account with images later in this blog!

4) Hoysala architecture beckons us again and again. I had written detailed accounts of these temples in previous posts. www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/alluring-amrutheshwara-temple This time around, we visited Mosale. It is a lesser-known temple complex in a small village. Two temples stand side by side in the complex a few feet apart. Surrounded by a wall, the twin temples exhibit many similarities except for the deities. The temple on the south is dedicated to Shiva and the one on the north to Vishnu named Nageshvara and Chennakeshava respectively. This particular feature makes this temple complex unique among the Hoysala temples. The only other place where we find a similar arrangement is at Marale in Chikkamagaluru district. Both the temples have graceful towers, with a figure of the Hoysala crest atop each of them and the walls embellished with beautiful carvings.

5) Mahabalipuram, though awash with tourists all through the year, is still a gem. The most majestic sculpture among them is that of Mahishasuramardhini. I had written in detail about it in: https://www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/mahisasuramardiniin-sculpture-mythology

6) Can birds be far behind this year? Our longish sojourn in US provided opportunities to watch some of them closely. Among them the mocking bird caught my attention as it kept me company on most evenings! A detailed narrative of the bird is at: https://www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/mockingbird-days

7) Observing the cabbage white butterfly fluttering from one plant to another was a fascinating experience. This diminutive butterfly has succeeded in surviving in different environments in spite of efforts to annihilate it and has inspired scientist to develop more efficient solar panels! More at: https://www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/on-the-wings-of-a-butterfly

8) The California Scrub Jay makes up for its raucous, unmelodious call with its resplendent colors. It is an extremely social bird with an extraordinary memory which has engaged the attention of many a researcher! More at: https://www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/a-perspicacious-bird

9) Both Ahalya and myself are unabashed Orchid lovers and it was a captivating experience to see a wide range of exotic orchids at the Annual Exhibition of the San Francisco Orchid Society. The profusion of colorful orchids of tantalizing hues kept us engaged for several hours. More at: https://www.profraguram.com/musings--reflections/among-the-orchidsagain

10) The last sojourn of the year was at Kannur. We had a long cherished dream to witness Theyyam, the ritual dance form of North Kerala. It was a fortuitous augury that we were able to get in touch with Mr Santhosh, one of the most well informed persons who has spent his lifetime passionately collating and documenting the various forms of Theyyam and their origins. We watched several performances and I will be writing in detail about them soon.

11) It was time after all these travels to head to the alluring beaches of Kannur. Ensconced in a remote house just a few feet away from the sea with the sound of the waves like a symphony reaching a crescendo, I was reminded of the words of Virginia Wolf, “The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.” Some glimpses at: photos.app.goo.gl/YFr38XMM41tyakqCA

12) The year ended on a note of discomfort with slew of changes that I personally feel will undermine the fabric of this nation. As an unabashed fan of the Beatles, let me end this narrative in the words of John Lennon, “You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us. And the world will live as one.”

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Mahisasuramardini....In Sculpture & Mythology

10/5/2019

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One of humanity’s most fascinating and enduring narratives in mythology is vanquishing the devil or the evil force. Quite often these accounts privilege the accomplishments and powers of male deities over their female counterparts.

However, there have been female goddesses too who left their imprint through their fearsome assertive power over malevolent forces.
For example, Sekhmet, one of the oldest known Egyptian deities, was the warrior goddess of Upper Egypt. Her name is derived from the Egyptian word for power and she was known for being fierce warrior. Dressed in red, she was envisioned also as a ferocious lioness and her body was said to have taken on the bright glare of the midday sun to blind her opponents.

In Greek mythology, Nemesis was the ancient goddess of divine retribution often depicted with a sword and scales. She was a feared as well as revered goddess. She was the embodiment of the resentment aroused in gods against those who committed crimes with impunity. As a purveyor of justice, she meted out punishment to those who were deemed arrogant through their evil deeds in the presence of the gods.

In Indian mythology, Durga is perhaps one of the most well-known manifestations of Shakti, who is worshiped during the festival of Dussera/Navaratri. She is also celebrated as Mahisasur Mardini, or the slayer of Mahisasur.

The story of Mahisasuramardini is perhaps one of the best known in Hindu mythology and many us might have heard it from our grandmothers, if not from Amar Chitra Katha! It has its origins in Devi Mahatmya which consists of chapters 81-93 of the Mārkandeya Purana. The framing narrative of Devi Mahatmya is one of a dispossessed king, a merchant betrayed by his family and a sage whose teachings lead them both beyond existential suffering. Its thirteen chapters are divided into three charitas or episodes. The sage instructs by recounting three different epic battles between the Devi and various demonic adversaries and the legend of Mahisasuramardini figures prominently in it.

According to the story, Mahishasura, a demon, obtained a powerful boon from Brahma that no man should be able to kill him. With the power vested by Brahman, he gathered a huge demon army and began harassing the gods. The gods under the leadership of Indra failed to control him. They approached Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva with a request to help them. The three gods joined their power to create the goddess Chandi, or Chandika, a ferocious aspect of Durga. Vishnu gave her the Sudarshana chakra, Shiva gave her his trident, Brahma gave her his kamandalu that held the water of Ganga and Indra gave her his Vajra, his thunderbolt. Armed with these she marched onto the battlefield and waged a fierce battle with the demon Mahisha and slew him after a prolonged fight.

And of course, there are longer and many other versions of this story…

Durga’s encounter with Mahishasura has been a popular subject among artists for centuries. One can find varied depictions of it in the sculptures in Hindu temples, in paintings, murals and even contemporary art like the controversial depiction by MF Hussain. In temples and religious sculptures, she is often depicted as either calmly victorious standing on a decapitated buffalo head or in the act of killing a buffalo-headed figure from whose cut neck a demon in the form of a man emerges. But the most unusual of all depictions is in a small cave in Mamallapuram.

On a hot sunny morning when Ahalya and myself walked into a small cave, we were totally unprepared by what we saw inside. The cave itself is quite nondescript from outside, shorn of any embellishments. There is a small sanctum which is empty, but if one looks carefully, one can have a glimpse of Somaskanda etched on the back wall. On the right wall of the temple is a panel the likes of which we have never set eyes upon.

In a striking contrast to other sculptures that focus attention on an isolated figure of Durga, this panel depicts the battle scene between her and Mahishasura in vivid detail. Durga is adorned with a distinct crown and jewelry including large earrings, necklaces, bangles, armlets, belt, and anklets, all of which demonstrate her divinity and royalty. Calm and confident, she is shown riding a beautifully ornamented prancing lion, holding her bow stretched and ready to attack. In her eight hands, are the bow, sword, bell, discus, knife, pasha (noose) and conch. She is followed by army of nine soldiers, eight dwarf ganas and one female. The female figure is shown carrying a sword, ready to attack. Her eight ganas are also armed with sword and bows, except two who are shown holding a plate of offerings and a parasol.

Mahishasura is depicted with his retreating army. His army, defeated and down in morale, is shown in detail. One soldier is shown falling after being cut in half, a few soldiers are hiding behind the bulky Mahishasura and a few have already tasted the dust of the battlefield. Mahishasura, shown with a large body, is trying to hold his ground and holding a club aloft. His attitude suggests that he has already suffered much at the hands of Durga and her army and now only the final blow is in waiting.

The sculptors have cleverly manipulated the depth of the relief to convey the liveliness of the clash between good and evil; the modulation of shallow and deep carving allow the goddess and her army to materialize from the background in striking detail. An exquisite arrangement of space and volume has done much to convey the excitement of the scene; the lion appears to burst into battle, and we can almost hear a ferocious roar escape his open mouth. The forward thrust of the winning side is facilitated by an arc at roughly the center of the panel. Mahisha and his soldiers seem to be aware that their exit from the battle, the relief, and even the cave itself, seems imminent!

Without doubt, this is the finest depiction of a battle scene, as though the sculptor had a vivid vision of the whole combat before executing it on stone. The only comparison I have seen is on the panels on the outside walls at the temple at Bayon.

The subjects of myths reflect universal concerns of mankind. What cannot be conveyed through philosophical discussions and logical debates can be transmitted more effectively through myth and metaphor. They speak to us in multiple ways. Thus, at one level, the legend of Mahisasuramardini chronicles the battle between the Devi [divine] and the asuras [demon]. At another level, it deals with the ‘inner battle’ that each one of us wage between the divine and the demonic forces within ourselves. The demons we confront are not always outside of us. They are our greed, anger and excessive pride. In the ultimate sense, the dichotomy between the bad and the good may be a false one. Both are part of a single, often paradoxical, human consciousness.

There is also a parallel story, according to which Mahishasura was a great devotee of Durga, and at the time of his death he got a boon from her that wherever she was worshipped his image would be associated with hers and he would be equally well known. Who can miss the ferocious depiction of him on the Chamundi hills in Mysore?

Reality on the ground is far more complex. Myths are not born in vacuum and have their roots in socio-cultural milieu. There have been alternative readings of the Durga-Mahishasur narrative from the perspective of the oppressed and the marginalized. It has been argued that Mahisasur has been unfairly demonized, when in fact he was a much respected and valued leader of the indigenous people, Asurs. Asur as a tribe exist to this day and are found in Gumla, Latehar, Lohardaga and Palamu districts of Jharkhand and in north Bengal's Alipurduar districts. They value their ancestry as descendants of 'Hudur-Durga', a Santhal name for Mahishasur and don’t celebrate Navaratri as it is a period of mourning for them.

India is a living crucible of history, myth, belief and living traditions.

Too sanguine an interpretation of a myth has its own limitations…

Here is a link to some of the images of Mahisasuramardini that I have glimpsed through my travels, including the majestic one at Mamallapuram: photos.app.goo.gl/EJsc3uPXMU5jxeuHA

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A Perspicacious Bird!

9/20/2019

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It is hard to miss the California Scrub Jay.

As I watch it alight on a branch, it announces its presence with a loud, raucous squawk. Emily Dickinson called them “blue terriers” for their bark- like call. Not quite on par with other songbirds!

It was hopping in bold lunges, pumping its tail and looking around with quick twists of the head. Charging through the branches as if sprinting down a path, it scared other birds away with an aggressive and purposeful energy.

The California Scrub Jay compensates it’s belligerent stance and lack of melodious call with a striking appearance. They are handsome birds with azure blue wings, tail and head, with light gray underparts and a distinctive white throat and eyebrow. Its feathers are not actually blue! The bright sapphire color we see is in fact, the result of the unique inner structure of the feathers, which distorts the reflection of light off the bird, making it appear blue. If that structure were to be damaged by crushing the feathers, the blue color would go away. The pigment in their feathers is melanin, which is brown. The blue color is caused by light dispersed through modified cells on the surface of the feather barbs.

One of the important characteristics of the California Scrub Jay is their “caching behavior”. As scrub jays spend their day foraging for seeds and acorns, they hoard their stash in little piles all over their territory in order to ensure supplies when food is scarce. Rather than building up one big pile, jays hide their bounty in many smaller piles. This strategy is called “scatter-hoarding” and leads to jays amassing up to 200 caches within their home ranges, which average about 1/10 of a square mile. Scrub jays must have excellent spatial memories just to remember where they have stockpiled all these future snacks. This is a rather impressive task. I wonder whether anyone can remember the last 200 places they ate at?! Since the hippocampus is the part of the brain that is involved in memory formation and storage, researchers have speculated if scrub jays have particularly large hippocampi, given all this remembering that they must do. Turns out that scrub jays do have one of the largest hippocampus sizes compared to their body size. The important factor is not absolute brain size but brain size relative to body weight, often termed as the “encephalization quotient.”

The size of the hippocampus also comes in handy when the California Scrub Jay wants to plan ahead. This is important because they store not only nuts and seeds but fruit, insects and worms, foods that perish at different rates. Cached insects can spoil in days if the temperatures are high enough, while nuts and seeds can last for months. A series of creative experiments by Nicola Clayton and her team at Cambridge University showed that the birds retrieve the more perishable food before it rots, leaving the nonperishables, such as nuts and seeds, until later. The jays use their experience of how quickly food degrades to guide their choice in recovering their caches. Remembering that perishable food items may need to be retrieved sooner requires recalling cache locations, cache contents, and the time of caching. This ability to remember the what, where, and when of specific past events is thought to be akin to human episodic memory, the remarkable capacity to remember specific personal experiences. Like us, the birds seem to be using events that happened in the past (what they buried when) to figure out what to do now or in the future (dig up or save until later).

Besides their remarkable memory, scrub jays also seem to have a social awareness that they employ for more deceptive purposes. Scrub jays often cache in a secretive manner to protect their stores from other birds, hiding behind objects, or relying on shade to obscure them from other birds’ view. Sometimes though, these efforts are not enough. If jays “believe” another bird is watching them cache, they will return to the cache later and “re-cache” it to a new secret location so that their food cannot be stolen. To do this, the jays must be able to “understand” in some way that the other birds are not only able to see what they are doing but also use that information to preserve their hard-earned seeds. This requires a social skill called ‘theory of mind’. Theory of mind involves the ability to understand what other individuals know. Simply put, it is the ability to realize that another bird is watching its cache with an intent to steal it, and that hiding that snack in a new location could trick the other and protect the food. The capacity to take the perspective of the other and to grasp what might be going on in another creature’s mind is one of the hallmarks of theory of mind.

Theory of mind may sound basic, but it is a demanding and complex social ability that even humans struggle with. A human infant may not develop theory of mind until around four years of age. Hence, claiming jays have this ability has literally ruffled feathers among biologists and psychologists alike. Some have suggested that this might just be an example of social learning, when birds find from trial and error that not moving your food can lead to unfortunate consequences.

Yet another astonishing fact about this Machiavellian tactical caching behavior is that a California Scrub Jay will resort to these clever tactics, only if it had its own experience in stealing from others. Birds that have never pilfered themselves hardly ever recache. In other words, “it takes a thief to know a thief!”

Scrub jays are also among the most social of birds. They participate in cooperative breeding, when they share the responsibility of raising the young. These brainy birds also watch out for each other while foraging and feeding in groups. They post a sentinel, or lookout, and take turns watching for predators, enabling the other members of the flock to forage with greater concentration and less danger of being captured by a predator.

There has been a lingering question as to whether birds experience human social or emotional capacities such as grief. For example, it has been observed that once the California Scrub Jays spot a dead member of their flock, they make loud alarm calls to draw the attention of others. The other jays then stop foraging and congregate near the dead bird and some remain close to the dead bird even for a day or two. Were they mourning a fallen member of the jay tribe? Or were they just demonstrating how birds respond to a dead member of their own species, by noisily telling other birds about the death and perhaps alerting the group to danger, a behavior that is often termed as “cacophonous aggregation”.

It is imperative that we are cautious while imputing human emotions like grief to other species. It is very easy to slip into the anthropomorphic trap!

But what is so remarkable is that the California Scrub Jays are capable of some form of metacognition. Many such abilities and skills have been outlined by Jennifer Ackerman in her masterly tome, Genius of Birds.

Thus, to call someone “bird-brained” is inaccurate and an unfortunate insult to the avian species!

On an altogether different note, it seems timely to recall the classical song, Bird Brain by the inimitable Alan Ginsberg. It is a six and half minute song recorded with a Denver based group called The Guons. It starts with these scathing lines;
“Birdbrain runs the world
Birdbrain is the ultimate product of Capitalism…”

Not too inappropriate in these times….

PS:
You might wonder why I called this bird perspicacious and not just brainy. Perspicacious is somewhat similar to being shrewd or astute. But there is a subtle difference. All three mean acute in perception and sound in judgment, but ‘shrewd’ stresses practical, hardheaded cleverness, whereas ‘perspicacious’ implies unusual power to see through and comprehend what is puzzling or hidden. And ‘astute’ suggests both shrewdness and perspicacity combined with diplomatic skill. The ability to quickly pick out from among the many things, those that are significant and to synthesize these observations and develop a practical strategy is what is characteristic of being perspicacious and the California Scrub Jay symbolizes it.

A skill that many a psychotherapist will be envious of!

GLIMPSES OF THE CALIFORNIA SCRUB JAYS AT:
photos.app.goo.gl/YSD1BrtiBEFmp7GL7

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ON THE WINGS OF A BUTTERFLY...

9/3/2019

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The moments I spend in the backyard are a gateway from the outer world to the inner. Often, I am lost amidst the chirping of the birds and the pranks of the squirrel that ambles along the fig tree in search of a ripe fruit. When one is immersed in the sounds and sights of the natural world, one is in touch with something deep and indescribable. Nature reveals it’s beauty in inexplicable ways..

During one such moment, my attention was drawn to a dainty butterfly darting across the garden. It was wafting lazily over the grass. The morning sunlight reflected off its wings and it seemed to disappear and reappear under its shadows. When it perched itself on top of the broccoli plant, I had a long look at it. I was charmed by its fluffy white body and powdery white wings with the smoky black-tinged edges.

When I checked the net, I discovered that this delicate winged beauty is known as the Cabbage White Butterfly.

The cabbage white butterfly is often the first butterfly to appear at the beginning of summer. It is affectionately called the “summer snowflake” and there is an interesting history tucked into its gossamer wings.
The cabbage white was introduced to the eastern United States and southern Canada along with European cabbage imports in the 1860s. It’s less clear how this species arrived in California. There are no documented appearances in San Francisco before the 1880s, though the butterflies were flourishing in the city by the time of the 1906 earthquake. One Gold Rush-era specimen from Yreka suggests they might have arrived with the Spanish explorers in the Mission period.

When food shortages gripped the United States during World War II, the country launched a “Dig for Victory” campaign that resulted in more than 20 million “victory gardens” in backyards and public parks and the harvest of more than 8 million tons of fruits and vegetables. The most popular produce in these gardens were cabbage, kale, broccoli, kohlrabi, turnips, and Brussels sprouts—all plants from the cabbage family. And among those who ate most heartily from the victory gardens was the caterpillar of the small white butterfly - Pieris rapae or the cabbage white. Cabbage whites ate so many victory crops in the United States and in England that one British newspaper called for exterminating these butterflies on sight, calling them “Hitler’s ally”!

People still refer to the cabbage white as “rat butterfly,” and a “weedy” species—but their extermination never happened. An incredibly rapid spreader, it has survived all efforts at its annihilation!

How did this diminutive butterfly succeed in surviving in different environments across time? Surely it must have worked out ways of working through climate change. It has been suggested that it adapts to climate change by producing less dark pigment so that it absorbs less heat from the sun to avoid overheating in warm climates. One of the researchers involved in this enquiry is Art Shapiro who is a distinguished professor at University of California-Davis. For decades, he has been offering a pitcher of beer to the person who brings him the first cabbage white of the year in the Davis-Sacramento area!

But there’s more to the cabbage white than meets the eye.

A butterfly relies on the sun’s warmth to heat up its flight muscles before it can flutter off. But it has been observed that even on cloudy days the cabbage white butterfly takes flight before other butterflies. This got the attention of scientists at the University of Exeter, England.
They noticed that the cabbage white butterfly is distinctly different from the other butterflies in that it poses in a V-shape. This posture concentrates solar energy directly onto its flight muscles in the thorax, warming them up for takeoff.

Inspired by this, they further examined whether the solar panels could be made more effective by replicating the butterfly’s V-shaped pose. Not surprisingly, they found that the amount of power produced increased by almost 50 percent! They also noticed that the surface of the butterfly’s wing is highly reflective. By imitating the V-shaped pose and the reflective wing structure, the researchers produced lighter and more efficient solar panels. These results suggest that the ordinary cabbage white butterfly is an amazing expert at harvesting solar energy!

The cabbage white’s white wings also reflect ultraviolet light, which we can’t see but the butterflies can. To our eyes the butterflies seem plain and drab, but to each other, females are a gentle lavender and males shine with a deep royal purple. I marvel at this humble creature, imagining the rainbow it sees that I am unable to.

Nature is valuable not just because it is beautiful. It possesses intrinsic value, grounded in its intelligible structure which we to strive to unravel.

Let us continue to be awe-struck and feel inspired by the intricate mysteries of the environment that we are enveloped in.

Each wing an albino leaf
Smudged with charcoal
At the tip
Flitting here and there
Basking in the sun
What tales you can share
About your seventeen degrees?

LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR COMMENTS . . .

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Towards The Within . . .

8/13/2019

43 Comments

Sometime back one of my clients asked me during a therapy session whether I believed in God. I was flummoxed for a while and wondered whether sharing my personal beliefs would impact the therapeutic process. I worked around it and replied that it has been evolving over time.

Growing up under a broad canopy of religious and cultural ceremonials, the quest for God has been a perennial one in my life.

My first tryst with this question was in a book ‘My God Died Young’ by Sasthi Brata which I read in my adolescent years. In a period of relentless quest for personal identity, this book resonated deeply within me. I must have read and re-read it many times. Printed on poor quality paper in a cheap published edition, many words have faded away over time. It’s a pity that I am unable to locate the dog-eared copy of this book in my library.

His angst arising from a sense of alienation is beautifully encapsulated in the final passage of the book: “How does one go about building a house when the timber that holds the roof and the walls together seems so fragile…”

Sasthi Brata’s articulation of fear of “being in the world” and search for personal meaning drew me into the world of existentialism.

I started devouring books on existentialism, facilitated by the iconic Eswari Lending Library. My existential crisis found solace in the cramped bookshelves of the place. I first borrowed a battered copy of Rollo May’s ‘Existence’ and followed it up with his ‘Love & Will’ and ‘The Meaning of Existence’. His suggestion that in the long run, finding the center of strength within ourselves is the answer to many of the unanswerable questions in life, appealed to me immensely.

On many occasions, when I was cycling back home after picking up loads of books from Eswari, amidst the cool afternoon breeze in the almost empty roads of Madras, I was in harmony watching the world go by. With every push of the pedal, thoughts and ideas came floating in my mind and I would begin my search afresh from the books I had just borrowed.

One such tome, ‘The Doors of Perception’ by Aldous Huxley had a tremendous impact on me. I still vividly recall these words from the book, “The man who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the man who went out. He will be wiser but less sure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging his ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend”

Perhaps it is this exploration through the doors of perception that was a determining factor in my choice of psychiatry. We don’t go through life painlessly and one of the most demanding and often ill understood pain is go through emotional crisis and psychological breakdown. For those in throes of it, it is an immensely agonizing and often, a lonely journey. RD Laing (another lasting influence on me!) mapped these unexplored frontiers of consciousness in many of his books. One can witness the poignancy of these struggles in the poetry of Sylvia Plath.

In my professional encounters I strive to respond to people in psychological distress with acceptance, accommodation imbued with compassion and that has been a continuing journey.

The circle of compassion keeps widening…

I feel close to God in my explorations in nature. I feel His presence in the silence of the forests. He responds to me in the chirping of birds. My hopes soar with their wings when I am overwhelmed with a sense of despondency. I see His beauty in the brilliant hues of flowers.

As I write this, there is a sudden gust of wind in the backyard. It catches the tiny bird sitting on top of a bare branch, unprepared. It sways, unperturbed, with the wind, feeling at one with it. And when the wind ebbs away, it starts singing its melodious note again.

It is life itself.

As Rembrandt commented, “Choose only one master…nature”

Flowing with the rhythms of nature is inherently a spiritual pursuit often lost amidst the frenzies of our everyday lives.

Let me conclude in the words of the enigmatic Chinese poet, Hanshan or Cloud Mountain as he is often referred to:

I’m on the trail to Cold Mountain.
Cold Mountain trail never ends.
Long clefts thick with rock and stones,
Wide streams buried in dense grass.
Slippery moss, but there’s been no rain,
Pine trees sigh, but there’s no wind.
Who can leap the world’s net,
Sit here in the white clouds with me?

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