I need periodic doses. Of lush green. Of the wind in the trees. Of  the wind etching waves on  water. Of birds, mostly unknown; and making their acquaintance the first time via the camera.

I’m back from three days spent at a farm somewhere in the middle of Maharashtra. So remote that you cant find it on googlemaps. The insistent call of the babbler resounds. Is there anything more plaintive than the peacock’s plea?

A dose of still peace.  The bonus this once was hearing the life story of some one who lives his life on his terms, making the transition from corporate to animal breeder to farming and niche tourism. Very inspiring.

Stepped on the porch of author Gauri Deshpande’s  house… what a vista…do homes carry the imprints of people who lived there long after they’re gone? My despair at not knowing Marathi, the language she (mostly) wrote in... but what a lineage, THE Iravati Karve's daughter... Yuganta!