Thursday, June 5, 2008. Silent Prayers for mourning lives. Is it the only comfort for pain and strife. Fields of green, tainted with blood. Relics of war, skeletons in the mud. All taken in with sympathy. But never an outcry of empathy. Standing there as passers by. Watching men, woman and children die. Or watching scenes so heinous to the eye. Thet they make your blood curl and you want to try. To kill the conflicted felons of war. And yet we not so much as utter a word.

There was an error in this gadget. Monday, May 9, 2011. Ade of the Karanj tree on which Indian Scops Owls roost, I was observing an active nest of Bl. Ack-rumped Flameback woodpeckers, amidst the occasional flitting of Paradise-flycatche. Rs and Black-lored Tits, when Thambi, the caretaker called me ahead. Nestled in the teak forests of the Seminary Hills complex in. Owls, woodpeckers and other memories.

Me, myself and the whole world. Saturday, October 29, 2011. One day I decided to quit. I quit my job, my relationship, my spirituality. I wanted to quit my life. I went to the woods to have one last talk with God. But I did not quit on the bamboo. In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful.

Once again, I blog with no real goal in mind. It is a wonder how I manage to hold normal conversations without cross-examining everyone else. Your Love Must Be Loud.

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