There’s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self – Aldous Huxley
Thursday, June 20, 2013
CUCKOO HAS ARRIVED
My love for nature's treasures!
For the last few days her singing has acquired the powerful zest of a war cry. I thought I’d resist her emboldened tenor, but no way. Perhaps she was sending me messages through her power packed melody to bring me out of my physical discomforts to chronicle her monsoon journey. That of course, I’d been doing, the last two years. Believe me she is none other than my birdie friend cuckoo. And I’m perennially inspired to write about her.
Every year I see her in a new avatar hitherto unexplored. This time her singing has high-speed, but a full throated depth too. Perhaps she wishes to convey that good times don’t last. Drink the gains of the breezy weather to the dregs. How else she could deliver the message other than through crooning, the gift she has. Since she has no other voice. Thanks to the early monsoon, her excitement is soaring high. I read a mysterious urgency in her notes, as if she simply can’t contain the happiness of the unexpected showers, gracing the parched earth, with its soaking blessings. Even the citizenry stands infected by her joy and come out in hordes to cool their bodies after the bristling heat of the past.
She welcomes the dark cloudy days with a feverish singing extravaganza. Perhaps she communicates the fiery intensity of her passion, breaking all reservations. May be it is a call to her estranged lover for making it up with her, as the sensuous rain drops have submerged deep under, all ill will and animosity. The poignancy of her music seems to emphasize the transience of all that is beautiful , so he must join her accepting warts and all, cuddle her and let go of the devastating ego. Her message loud and clear is even heard by the human mortals. She is waiting to be enveloped in his passionate embrace and give her all. Her beauty and his virility are short lived.Thus he should hasten to be with her as love has impregnated every vein in her body and longs for consummation.
Does size matter? This simply petite bird, attired in glossy black, with orange hued glassy eyes, empowered and endowed with a sweet voice, which floats unhindered above the crescendo of all human and bird noises.
The mellifluous charm of her song overflows the milieu around me acting like a magic wand, sweeping away the nervous stress and aches and pain of tired limbs. Is there any need to feel charged with anxiety when the cuckoo is regaling one and all with her happy notes while beckoning us to seep into the joviality, forgetting worries and woes? The purity and genuineness of her voice pays homage to the season of rains, while awakening the dormant spirit of monsoon masti in our hearts. Her luscious coo coo nudges me out of despair and hopelessness towards positivity, better than mere words of inspirational self help books.