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We are in the Nilgiris at 7,000 feet above sea level. Glistening lakes stretch below, bright green tea plantations surround us, and dense forests loom above. Over the mountains is Kerala.
Escaping the unrelenting monsoon in Hyderabad, we had expected glorious sunshine and lots of walks. Climate change has shattered expectations and the norm. It is bitterly cold with pelting rain and strong gusts of wind howling past our windows.
On such a day, there’s no tramping around the hills, no following birds by sight or sound. Instead, I put on all the layers of clothing I have and hunker down in a chair on the verandah. I do nothing.
A cousin, when she was three years old and felt teased by her family, would glare and say, “Don’t laugh, don’t talk, don’t move…. Don’t do anything!”. The phrase became family lore long after she grew into adulthood.
“Don’t do anything” here means slowing down. There is no exertion, no hill to clamber. No expectation, either. Just sitting in one spot and watching the weather unfold. Here’s what I experience:
A pied bush-chat, all fluffed up, darts around, coming close as it gets used to my presence.
A flash of blue settles on a low tree branch — a verditer or Nilgiris flycatcher, too far to tell. It examines the mud below for insect possibilities. A brown shrike who clearly thinks it is his territory flutters furiously and chases the flycatcher away.
Ginger, a local indie dog, barks furiously at something in the distance, possibly a herd of gaur. Content with her protective hard work, she trots over and curls up at my feet with a satisfied sigh.
A while later, there is a raptor in the sky. It hovers, perhaps spotting prey on the distant ground. But the winds are too strong even for this creature who reads micro air-currents like sailors do ocean waves. The raptor is buffeted away.
Being in nature often means activity of some sort: getting somewhere, achieving something, ticking off a checklist. As I discover, there’s much to be said for the art of staying still. Making the best of what’s given and then being reminded in charming albeit small ways of all that’s on offer.
The wind and rain shift. Like the raptor, Ginger and I concede defeat and retreat indoors. A satisfying couple of hours spent in “don’t do anything” mode.
Nature Conscious is a series built from reader contributions. It is a collection of fieldnotes, moments or brief encounters with the wild, expressed through words, art, music, photographs or poetry. The series is curated by author and guest editor Aasheesh Pittie.
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