WENDELL RODRICKS | Yesterday, after many cloudy rainy spells, we had a wonderful sunny morning. I decided to ‘warm’ myself in the hot sun and read a book. While The Silk Roads made me dream of the Indian, Chinese, Persian histories and places we visited, the four dogs and three cats decided to join the master basking in the sun. Then the staff decided to put out the mattresses for a monsoon drying. Soon it seemed like a picnic, a cup of green tea served. The pets colonizing various mattresses and spread eagled for a sun tan. Between pages, I could hear the squirrels chirping, the koyels, bulbuls and mynahs singing in the mulberry tree, three sunbirds fluttered into view drawing nectar from flowers two feet away and from the corner of my eyes … butterflies afloat in the air as beautifully colored caterpillars crawled afoot. In the distance a lone peacock crows while twenty monkeys shriek and floric in the neighbour’s trees. The two lawn resident turtles attracted the attention of Sophia the naughty boxer who caught one, tossed it like a ball and then forgot about it. In the monsoons, our house is a moss covered bhooth bangla. But the garden is something else. I read on about Alexander and European rulers of tiny fiefdoms who only looked East for treasures and culture. For them the world at the time centered around the now war-torn countries of Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan. Beyond lay the real wealth of India and China. I read about how, at the time, religious thought, cultural ideas, sciences and theories flew as easily on the breeze. Quite like the fragrance of the nearby Sontaka flowers flowed on the wind between pages. Overhead … a blue, blue sky with white fluffy clouds peeping through the century old mango trees. Two hours of bliss.
I realized yesterday that one can take a holiday in one’s own garden.