“Sights and Bites”

 

It was one of those late nights where the dull throb in my injured leg just wouldn’t let me sleep. I was stuck in that blue-light haze, doom-scrolling through social media to pass the time. Naturally, the algorithm decided to torture me with "Unmissable Spots in Bangkok"—stunning drone shots of shimmering gold spires, hidden rooftop bars, and vibrant flower markets.

My partner and I were supposed to have been there together in November, but familial reasons kept me home while he went solo. His entire fortnight of "sightseeing" had consisted almost entirely of Michelin-star street food stalls and legendary noodle shops.

Seeing the gorgeous reels on my screen, I felt a fresh wave of FOMO. I turned the phone toward him and pointed at a particularly breathtaking view of the city.

"Look at these places!" I said, my voice a mix of awe and accusation. "You missed seeing all of this, and only because you were too busy eating!"

He didn't even have the grace to look guilty. He didn't blink; there wasn't an iota of regret on his face. He just glanced at the screen and said calmly:

“It’s okay. I can still see those landmarks on the mobile. But I couldn’t have tasted all that food on my phone, right?”

He went back to what he was doing, and I just sat there, smarting. Because his logic was absolutely airtight and I couldn’t counter it!

Broken Spirits…

A friend was visiting Bengaluru, and my partner suggested, “Why don’t you ask him to join us for dinner?”

I looked up from my mobile. “I already did. He’s a 'maybe' right now.”

“If he says yes, we should open that new wine-flavored gin!”

“That would be nice," I sighed. "But he’s actually stopped drinking. Health issues. He’s gone completely cold turkey.”

My partner went silent, looking genuinely distressed. After a long pause, he whispered, “If you ever gave up drinking, we’d have to give away all our nice liquor to other people.”

“Why?”

“Well, what else would you do with it?”

“I’d break the bottles over people’s heads,” I said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

He stared at me. “What?!”

“I’m not just going to waste it,” I shrugged.

“And how exactly does breaking glass over people help the situation?”

“I imagine I’d get the same high.”

My partner is now looking at rental listings and checking the locks on the bedroom door. I’m honestly a bit hurt—I thought I was being resourceful.

A Different Lens

For years, she had him filed away in her mind under "Inexplicable Success."

As colleagues, they were mandated to cover for one another, giving her an intimate view of his workflow—and it irritated her. While she stayed buried in the mechanics of routine, he was a creature of the periphery, monitoring just enough to ensure deadlines were met while spending the rest of his time discussing cinema, fashion, or harmless gossip. She bristled at his ascent, convinced the "blue-eyed boy" of the company was simply a man who succeeded without effort.

Years passed. They moved away to different cities and headed new verticals in the same firm. When he was in town for a conference, she thought she would meet him out of courtesy over coffee. She couldn’t. A freak accident put paid to the plans. 

*****

She returned home from a grueling physiotherapy session, nursing a body that felt as broken as her professional momentum, and she found a massive bouquet of flowers on her table. A call from him followed almost immediately.

"I saw the flowers," she said, her voice strained. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," he replied. His voice was just as before — calm and unhurried. "How are you feeling?"

"Restless," she admitted. "I’m missing key meetings. The Q3 reports are—"

He cut her off with a soft, easy laugh. "The work will happen by itself, you know. It always does. People like us spend our lives worrying about the machinery, but the machines are built to run."

"I've always struggled with that part," she said.

"Don't," he said firmly. "The reports aren't going to check on you, and the office won't miss you the way your health will. You matter. The rest is just noise."

When he signed off, the silence in the room felt different. While many of her "diligent" peers hadn't uttered a word, the man she had once dismissed had shown a side she never had paid attention to.

She realized then that she had mistaken his humanity for a lack of interest. Or, as his entitled behaviour. His success was no longer a mystery.

Blind Birder’s Guide to Dandeli!

An Indian paradise flycatcher in flight

The Great Non-AC Escape

It was another "Harsha Special," and after missing the last two trips to Dandeli, I was determined not to let this one slip away. I readily agreed and even dragged Sambhu into the mix. Naturally, in true "me" fashion, I delayed booking until the very last second. This resulted in a charming journey via a non-AC sleeper bus, followed by an hour-long cab ride (bless Harsha for organizing that, or we’d probably still be on the side of the road).

Flame or ruby-throated bulbul. It is the state bird of Goa!

We arrived at the Old Magazine House early—far earlier than our upgraded suite was ready for us. However, any frustration was quickly muffled by a sumptuous breakfast and the sight of a small army of tripods already stationed at the bird-hide, looking like a metallic forest.

Malabar grey hornbill

Gear, Gadgets, and Forgetting Everything

The three-day workshop was under the Fuji banner, giving all participants access to some serious glass - including medium format cameras and some telephoto primes. Harsha led the workshop as Fuji’s brand ambassador. 

Grey jungle fowl is endemic to India. It is a protected species

I’ve known Harsha and Shweta for six years now. We have done several wildlife trips together, led by Harsha (including Masai Mara, Kenya). Association with Harsha extends beyond photography. There are other friends too - notably Sathya and Deva - but they weren’t part of this trip. 

Shweta and Harsha

Unfortunately, my packing skills haven’t improved with age. I managed to arrive without adequate memory cards and forgot my battery charger adapter. Harsha and Shweta stepped in to rescue me—a recurring theme in my life that I suspect hasn't seen its series finale just yet.

Red-breasted flycatcher

Also called a taiga flycatcher, it is a winter migrant to India. 

A Colorful Dilemma

To appreciate my love for birding, you have to understand my starting point. The first bird I ever photographed was a Magpie Robin; at the time, I didn't know its name, nor was I aware it existed. Before I started these trips, my avian classification system was simple: Crows, Sparrows, Chickens, Peacocks, and Swans. Everything in the water was a "Crane" (imagine my shock learning that's not a real catch-all term), and every raptor was an "Eagle."

Malabar trogon male

Malabar trogon female

To make matters more interesting, my vision is a disaster—I am both shortsighted and colorblind. It’s a bit like trying to solve a Rubik's cube in a dark room. My companions are incredibly patient saints who help me not just see where the bird is, but also point my lens in the right direction, for which I am eternally grateful. Thank God birds don't judge; they just sit there being majestic while I squint at them.

Indian blackbird. Belongs to the thrush family, and is known for a rich, flute-like song 

The Art of Sleeping In

On the day we arrived, the group headed to the local timber depot in pursuit of Hornbills. We didn't join them, and judging by their disgruntled faces when they returned bird-less, we hadn't missed much. We were supposed to join the second attempt the following morning, but the alarm clock lost the battle. When the "nature walk" call came at 7:00 AM, I politely declined in favor of my pillow.

In retrospect, laziness was my best tactical decision.

Orange-headed thrush

It is known for its vibrant colours and complex, melodious song

The Grand Prize

By skipping the depot and the nature walk, I was stationed at the hide when the Star Attraction appeared: the male Paradise Flycatcher. I have been chasing a glimpse of this elusive beauty for six years, ever since seeing Harsha’s photos. Seeing those long, flowing tail feathers in person right at the start of the day was worth every missed alarm and forgotten memory card.

Paradise flycatcher (male). Distinct for its flowing white tail feathers

The last day of the trip, Sayambhu and I headed to the timber depot in Dandeli. Surprise! There were tree-full of Malabar pied hornbills to see and and click. It’s another matter I missed clicking them while they took off into the skies, thanks to the speed at which I operate! We also managed to sight some owls and a couple of other birds while at the depot. 

Black naped monarch

It’s also called black-naped blue flycatcher 

Over the two days, we saw roughly twenty species, including various Flycatchers, three types of Hornbills, the Malabar Trogon, and the legendary Pitta. Along with clicking pics, we also made some new friends! 

Malabar pied hornbill

Hornbills are known to pair for life!

After a satisfying trip, we returned to Bengaluru by train—having already decided that if the train failed, we were simply going to flee to Goa and fly home. The best thing about the trip? Sayambhu picking up clicking skills like a past master. All pics of pittas and trogons are to his credit.  Left to me, I’d still be ruing that I couldn’t focus in time!

Indian pitta. Also called navrang because of its colourful feathers!

Birding trips are great to learn not just about birds, but the importance to preserve our nature, ecology, and earth. Any birding trip invariably teaches you loads of patience. Also, you realise that you have to click a few hundred pictures of each bird to get a few good ones! I wonder how those who clicked with film cameras managed back in those days!

White-bellied blue flycatcher

I’ve shared the pictures of birds from the trip all through this write-up! (Captured despite my best efforts to forget equipment). If you need any tips about a birding trip to Dandeli, reach out with a comment!

Jungle owlet, a variety of small owl 

The Resolution!

The office cafeteria was a graveyard of crumpled napkins and smears of chocolate frosting—the aftermath of the mandatory New Year’s cake-cutting ritual. Over tea and coffee that were getting colder by the minute, the conversation had inevitably turned into a competitive sport: the listing of New Year’s resolutions. “I want to travel to a different destination each month”, “This is the year of me working on my own start-up”, “I will get my music video out”!

Rati sat back, cradling her mug, watching the exchange with a quiet, persistent smile. She was a spectator to the noise rather than a part of it.

"Rati, you’re being suspiciously quiet," one colleague noted, pointing a stir-stick at her. "What’s on the grand agenda for the year? Or are your aspirations too high-profile to share with us?"

"She’s been sitting there like a sphinx while we’ve poured our hearts out," another added with a laugh. "Come on, spill."

Rati shifted, her shyness momentarily visible. "I only have one," she said softly. "To be happy."

There was a beat of silence, then a burst of skepticism. "That’s it? That’s a bit generic, isn't it? It’s like saying your resolution is to breathe."

"It is and it isn’t," Rati replied, finding her footing. "It’s been my resolution since last year, and I suspect it will be the only one I keep for the rest of my life."

"But how is that a resolution? Where’s the plan? The gym membership? The 'New Year, New Me' hustle?"

Rati took a deep breath, her gaze steadying. "Look, this might sound a bit philosophical—maybe even like a lecture—but if you’ll just hear me out..."

"Oh boy, here goes the Professor!" someone called out. The table erupted in good-natured groans and laughter. "The nerd is coming out to play!"

"Quiet, you lot," a friend interjected, leaning in. "I’m actually curious. Let her speak."

"I can't believe we're getting a sermon on January first," another whispered loudly.

“Let’s hear her out first! We could get to diss and dissect her afterwards!”

"Hem, hem!"

"Fine, fine! I’m all ears now. Maybe it’ll cure the hangover."

"Or give us a fresh one!"

The table dissolved into another round of chaos—people talking over one another, lighthearted ribbing, and the genuine, messy sound of friends enjoying a moment of shared irreverence.

Rati didn’t cut them off. She simply watched the laughter ripple across the table, the way her friends leaned into each other, and the bright energy of the room. When the noise finally dipped into a small lull of expectation, she didn’t deliver a speech.

She simply gestured to their smiling faces.  "This," Rati said, her smile widening. "This is what I meant. My resolution."