After arriving in the early hours and sitting some perfect time on the roof watching the mountain and the sky, I wandered along familiar tracks; here’s the beauty that passed me by:
Having not slept for several days I urgently needed to catch up with Sonagiri forest that evening by entering the seclusion and quietude.
The track that once led to My Bones Bush Lemon was obstructed a cacophony of tangled thorny vines and the detour likewise hit a matted thorny obstacle but finally I found her, here she is bared in beauty, reminding me as always of camels. You can see below what I mean by a cacophony:
Although rooted to the spot, members of the Botanical Kingdom dance in concert . . .
. . . . in gay abandon.
Forests dance the Life and Death Duet.
- * * * * *
Much refreshed I slipped through the boundary barricade, climbed the bank and scuffled down to the frequently dry bed of the seasonal lake.
Here individual trees stand spotlit with their shadows . .
They become more personalised . . .
. . intimately so.
Events on their timeline reveal their stalwart capacities: zoom in to see these Nahwals/Nirmadies who can stand long among reflections while rooted in the lake-bed below . . .they’ve grown roots halfway up their trunks – legacies from a good monsoon at least five years ago.
And notice their resilience in complementing the vagaries of change.
Members of the Botanical Kingdom form a congregation of artful Adepts for the delectation of all: feeding us all – all sentient beings, fuelling all fires, purifying our air and protecting our precious waters above and below.
The wild animals who live on and around Annamalai hillock are very shy and this is fortunate.
It is also fortunate that locals are afraid of the forest.
Being in wilderness requires solitude.