Avian chatter

 One treepie squeaked its opinion 

In reply , far off , another minion 

Squeaked right back , instantly 

The mynah tut tutted petulantly 

Babblers fought a war of words 

In the world of the birds 

 I thought how bad could it get 

Then I saw them rolling in the dirt 

Next moment with avian fickleness 

they had skewered themselves in tight lines 

On a single branch , for  shared body heat 

fighting the winter chill , with collective grit 

The mynah tut tutted again , marching upright 

Looking out for food , grain and mite(s) 

No one can wing it like the little swift 

when darkness falls , like winged gifts 

They fly , swing , sway , dip and lift 

A real treat for the eyes , shaped T 

The brain fever bird is really feverish 

calls of the koel , has really reached a pitch 

The dove perches 

 on a tree and belches 

it has lots to say 

throughout the day 

So does the barbet 

it keeps up the beat 

But anytime of the day , that one sound 

which you hear ,  constant and profound 

Is the hammering constant 

of coppersmith barbet 

never missing the sharp beat 

like the forests'  beating heart 

When one tires and quietens 

the other pipes up and hearkens 

Hark now 

the crow 

Warning all and sundry 

silencing the gentry 

A little while later 

Bulbul picks up the matter 

All is well brothers , it coos 

Replied by  Golden orioles

Oh Yes ! We know that bros 

In a flash of black and gold 

a short tale is told 

Of Brilliance 

Forbearance 

Human nature

"No matter what the job description says , your  real job is  to make the boss look good." -  Lois Wyse 

"Good morning Mrs Poddar." She had wished , timidly, even before entering the room . As novices are wont to .

But it wasn't Mrs Poddar at the table, it was Mrs Ray , her successor. She was tall , lean ,dark , athletic, and wore a kurti on a pair of jeans. No nonsense. 

" Hello Uma ! Please come in ." " Have some water. " She pushed the glass of water towards her across the glistening glass topped mahogany table. 

"Listen Uma. I called you to tell you , that you have to give up your portfolio of secretaryship." 

Uma choked and sprayed the water from her mouth on the glass top.

"It's ok . Sorry we couldn't give you much notice." She grabbed a napkin and dabbed on Uma 's saliva mixed water everywhere on the table. 

Mrs Ray was efficient and didn't believe in wasting time. 

" Come lets go for a walk." 

" Ma'am." Uma sputtered as she was guided from the room.

On her way out , Mrs Ray, redolent of French perfume, rang the bell, " Bintu , isko clean Karo ." She motioned the peon to the table.

Uma was reminded of the day last week, in this very office. 

Humans are strange beings . They exhibit strange behaviour . Their actions are not commensurate with the expected result . I find the most intelligent of people do strange things. 

So, this day had dawned . The Organisation , we will call it that , for the time being , suffered from a shortage of manning ( or should we call it womanning ) staff . The secretary had held the position for a back breaking second year , in succession , and it was telling on her patience . 

Of course , she had held it for two reasons . One , she was at the bottom of the hierarchy , and aspired to weave her way up . The hard way . The second reason was , she loved the adulation that came along with slogging . The podium speeches , long winding poems and presence . It was a despised job and a coveted one , at the same time . You had the power over the powers-that-be . Wrapping them around your little finger , but you had to slog hard for it . Organise meetings , be an errand boy at functions , be the fall guy when things go south . In short , the works .

The Secretary was a quirky lady called Praja . She was always on the edge . Always doing things . When not organising picnics , she would plug her favourite music into her ears , and ran for miles . Specially in foggy winters , where lesser mortals were still squirming inside quilts , warming themselves . She was what is called in Medical parlance , a type A personality . Competitive , fast . Always . 

Mrs Poddar was the Head of the department . One would envisage a portly , fat matron at this post , bearing that name . She was anything but . She was sprightly , pretty , well dressed . Mostly , outrageously . If it was a welcome occasion , she was the one to lead the pack in an off shoulder gown with a thigh high slit . Leading a posse of clucking , saree clad matrons . 

Mrs Poddar created a nuke race of sorts . No one wanted to be left behind , to appear older than their boss's wife . But , all didn't have the panache to carry her sartorial excesses . 

That too in their doddering middle ages . Praja was the closest rival . However , she was aeons ( read decade ) younger than any of the afore mentioned matrons . 

Praja had held this post for two years . Now , two years is a long time , specially when kids are growing . Being a tiger mom didn't stop her from furthering her own career , and doing a jolly good job of it . 

Now she needed a break . She put her point forward , rather bluntly , at the meeting . 

" I have kids too. I need to pay attention to my family too." She said , after all other potential candidates had professed to putting their family first . 

Now , Mrs Poddar was in a fix . A fix she had never been in before , thanks to Praja . The ever present , all efficient praja , who more than likely had made the entire organisation look like a bunch of buffoons ( which they were , in essence ). 

A recent addition was Uma, a lady with two small school going kids , who painted wonderfully well and sold her painted cloth , canvas , paper crafts , flower vases , with mild degrees of success . 

She was tasked with taking in charge of the secretary's job . It was taken on with great deal of reluctance . 

Until one day,  one week later .when she was summoned to Mrs Poddar's office. 

"But , Mrs Ray , I thought there was no one else to do it ."  Uma stammered, sunshine pouring rainbows into her eyes smarting with tears , due to recent choking. 

.

" Eda Uma " Mrs Ray broke into permissible amount of Malayalam , as there was no one in sight. 

" There still isn't." 

"Then why / how , Mrs Ray? " 

Here Mrs Ray lowered her voice and spoke in rapid Malayalam into Uma's ears .

"That girl Praja , no ? She called Mrs Poddar , and Mrs Poddar called me saying I should reinstate her. " 

Uma's mouth fell open. She was speechless .

" Human nature da . Can't do much." 

Mrs Ray shrugged . 

Mynahs

We are lucky to be posted to jungles , with its green coverage . It provides a habitat for numerous birds , and on one's morning walks , one invariably sees one or the other bird , which is unique to this part of the country . 

 I often say that for every kilometre covered , you at least see 10 different species of birds . This thumb rule has held true for most of the last three stations we have been posted  . Hopefully , it will continue , for the next few too . 

First the common birds . What is common to one place becomes uncommon to the other place . I discovered this of late . 

The mynahs . They are numerous , raucous and you see them everywhere . But here, in West bengal , I have seen more varieties of mynah than anywhere else .  The common mynah , as the name goes , is quite common . It has a yellow eye mask , and has yellow feet ( like gumboots ) , and marches regally , when landing on your lawn . One colourful author described them as French Gendarmes .It also keeps itself to the periphery , wary of humans . Unlike babblers , who hop , skip and jump , as close to the sapiens , as possible . 

Then there are pied mynahs( or pied starlings ) , which have a black and white body , orangish bill and behave very much like their common cousins . They also have orange eye masks , instead of yellow .

The jungle mynahs , have no eye masks , instead they have a beady black , yellow ringed eye , with a rakish tuft of black hair right above their beak . They are more slender and agile than other mynahs .

The brahminy starling , is a close relative , and has a pious black streak of hair running down their heads . Rest of the head is ashy . The body is orange underside with grey ash  wings . It , like its name suggests , keeps to itself , Mingles with other brahmin folk , and rarely comes down from its perch , even when food is provocatively scattered in their path . 

Then comes grey headed starling . It looks old , and wise . Owing to its head of grey . Rarely seen . Mostly on treetops .

Bank mynah was visible only in Punjab , that too in the holes of the walls of a culvert bypass, where they nested in vast numbers . They look like ash necked crows , except for smaller sizes , yellow feet and orange / brick red peri orbital skin.