The silver lining as I saw it when I moved to our new location had been the empty plot opposite our balcony. In fact such was the lay of the land that not one but two balconies faced different parts of it. So we were doubly blessed. The plot was lush with trees and creepers and tall grass growing wild. In short it was land nobody was paying much attention to other than safeguarding its boundaries with a wall, and making sure the gate to it remained locked. The rest was left to nature.

Coconut tree trees were aplenty, most though not healthy enough to give a good yield. There were the Indian almond trees whose leaves changed colours. It was the closest thing as far as I was concerned to the ‘fall colours’ in far away lands. There was the devil’s tree (Alstonia scholaris) spreading its heady fragrance in the early evenings when it bloomed. There were a couple of what we in Malayalam call vattayila trees (Macaranga peltata), the leaves of which are used for making sweet rice cakes of different kinds.

Birds built nests in the trees, also in the tall grass. The hollows in the almost dead coconut trees were claimed by parakeets and mynas mostly, while woodpeckers with their shrill cry, ‘mined’ them for food. They squabbled if one of them flew close to the other’s nest. They laid eggs and raised chicks. Dozens of parakeets would descend on the one leafless tree that stood to one end, chattering excitedly, playing bird games, in the mornings and evenings.

The black kites chose the coconut trees to make nests. Not for them the ordinary trees. From their vantage point they looked down on the smaller birds and sometimes swooped down to carry one away to feed their hungry chicks. An occasional pond heron could be seen foraging among the grass. The kingfisher, the one with the white collar, always preferred the leafless tree to sit and brood, like a hermit. White-cheeked barbets successfully blended with the surroundings on leafy trees, only their call announcing their presence.

There were creepers and vines growing wild, some with flowers, others with none, climbing up and smothering the very trees they used for support, hanging down from their branches and creating cozy cool places for stray dogs who had sneaked in through gaps in the wall, to rest on hot days.

The huge cocolocasia leaves growing wild among the grass held water droplets when it rained and they shone like jewels. Munia birds who nested in the tall grass, drank from them. Mongooses glided in and out of the foliage while on their way to whatever mission they were on. Snakes hid in holes, safe in the knowledge that no human would chance upon them and retaliate in terror.

Though nobody lavished care on the land, the flora and fauna therein thrived better than any garden tended with utmost care by humans. Visitors to my house marvelled at our luck. Having such a wild green patch to gaze at was such a blessing, they said. I agreed wholeheartedly. Yes, I thought of ourselves as lucky too. After all apart from the cooling effect of the greenery, I also had a ringside view of the denizens of this green haven and their activities. What more could I ask?

But (Yes. There’s ALWAYS a but that has to butt in!)

All of it came to nought one fine day. Men and machines moved in. The trees were felled, the grass was cut, the vines ripped out. Of course it is the prerogative of the owners of the land to do with it as they wish. Perhaps they intend to sell it, or build on it. Who knows! Now the sun beats down mercilessly on the bare brown ground and with not much green (only a few coconut trees!) to soften its brightness, our eyes hurt, as does my heart. I wonder where all the birds have gone?

©️ Shail Mohan 2024