Thinking

Lately I'm thinking about activism. Instagram shows me clips from the No Kings Marches, tribals in India protesting against data centers, and activists arguing for the protection of our free-roaming dogs.

I am reminded of scenes from Swami and Friends by R.K. Narayan, a classic published in 1935. In one, Swami takes a stab at activism as part of the Civil Disobedience Movement. He throws his cap into the bonfire with no thought that the school will still need him in uniform when it re-opens.

Of late, I have come to appreciate Narayan's astute reading of activism - how he shows us the throes of emotion and its consequences. And as social media becomes a place both for hand-wringing and repression, I have questions about the next step and the road ahead.
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Feeling

There is growing clamour in India about what constitutes an upscale neighbourhood. The satellite clusters of Delhi are villages newly made over into corporate hubs, their earth and shrub re-sectioned into clinical compositions of glass and concrete. They aspire to Le Corbusier's cool chic even as liquor shops break out over their maps like acne.
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And I remember reading about an ancient Indian king whose emblems still grace our bank notes and government buildings. He had roads lined with banyans and mango trees so travellers would pass safely even during summer. He had wells dug every few miles, and hospitals built for sick animals.
Believed to have lived between 269 - 232 BCE, his title was 'Beloved of the Gods.'
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Today, when it seems like kindness is becoming a withered technology, the mark of a good neighbourhood for me is simply this: a welcoming shade and a water bowl for our more-than-human itinerants.

Listening

I keep a water bowl on my balcony for the birds. And I think, perhaps capitalistically, that the birds pay for the water with songs. There is the myna, the pesky pigeon, the raucous crow, and lately, the coppersmith barbet.

But this season, and this month, are made bearable by the calls of the koel. As a child I always thought it was the song that sweetened the mangoes.
The koel's call is summer holiday, aam panna (a raw mango summer drink), cotton, and cousins.
It is a time machine, this call - sometimes it takes me back, at others, it brings time back to me.

Watching

Reacher. In the first season, a giant former soldier who likes taking buses travels to a small town to learn more about his favourite jazz musician. Meanwhile, he blows up a counterfeiting ring. And tries peach pie (but he's had better).
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Reacher reminds me of the archetype of the Immortal Wanderer - one of my favourites. He says, "I'm a wanderer. I'm a traveler. I don't belong anywhere, and I don't want to."

His heft, intellect, and experience are common tropes for the All-American ultra-human male. But his detachment is what makes him compelling for me. Wouldn't it be good to dismantle toxic systems just by-the-by and then take a bus or bike out of town?
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Also, sometimes, one simply needs to see a few bad guys get as good a clobbering as they deserve.

Postscript

I wanted to share Orribu by Olive - a newsletter where you can find the musings of a creative cat mom, doodles and behind the scenes look at illustrations and stories.
Olive's presence is like a wedge of orange - something we can all appreciate on these torpid days.