Bucolic Village Life

December in a bucolic village in India. Air is fresh, finally.

I hear faint bhajan from distance. Women are blowing conches and ringing bells. Its Margashira month Thursday, the day of Lakshmi puja. Bell sounds coming from the nearby temple. Incense stick fragrance is in the air.

Humdrums of life has started.

The rising sun lifts the veil of fog, and paints the tree canopies golden. Cold winter wind whips through the bamboo thicket and palm fronds, creating a rustling sound. The yellow banner of the temple flutters. I savor sunset, moon, and stars. Greenery all around the house with the lush growth of banyan, Indian medlar (bakul), and burflower-tree (kadam).

I see wood apple, papaya, coconut, areca nut, tamarind fruits on trees. Mango, jackfruit, cherimoya, star fruit trees are waiting for their turn.

Star jasmines, hibiscus, ixora, marigold and night-flowering jasmine are blooming.

I listen to a variety of bird chirps from the plant tops. The range of sounds can overwhelm anybody mindful to the melody. I wish I can share the caws, coos, chirps, tweets. Some are soothing, some harsh. Roosters have already woke up the village. Orioles and doves are swinging on bamboo branches. Black drongo on moringa twigs. Jungle babblers are noisy and collecting fibers from the coconut plants. Rock pigeons are flying in bands. I saw a vibrant kingfisher flying over a fish pond.

A flock of swallows were hovering in the blue sky. A pair of parrots fly over us as we rest on the terrace. Also a greater coucal flies from another directions.

A variety of butterflies are fluttering.

I see a monkey on the cassia tree top. A chipmunk scampering on neighbor’s roof. One chipmunk climbs up the lanky areca nut tree and gnaws at the nuts. A copper-color snake slithers around the Laterite rock boulders. Also, a skink nearby. In the afternoon I see a mongoose, my first sighting in wilderness. At night, I could hear the howls of jackals from the village-edge forests.

Stray dog naps in the morning sun. Cow and calves moo from the neighborhood.

This bucolic village teems with life. One has to be attentive to enjoy the fauna going about their days.

My kids dressed in winter robes are exploring the temple premise with their father.

I am sitting on the moss-speckled terrace near bags of areca nuts and coconut coirs. The sunshine and fresh air are therapeutic. As I journal my thoughts in solitude, I appreciate this blessing, an escape from perpetual chaos as a mother of two small kids.

It’s not that village life is all stress-free or people are all naive.

Yet, I focus on the goodness.

I derive tranquility and healing in nature.

All images are by the Author.