Learning to talk.
The previous post reminds me of something:
That I’ve been learning to talk to mynas, the fun and noisy residents of the upper-Manali valley. So far, I’ve made enough progress that in my presence they are themselves without fear and happily loiter around. Once, two of them even entered my room and pooped on the bed. I guess that means we are cool.
Some kind of acquaintance or friendship with birds is enlightenment. You discover another world and its language — a world of tenderness and flight, a language of beautiful small songs. Another world not on a planet faraway, but in the air surrounding you.
I’ve been feeding them ganthiya that recently came for me along with other snacks and sweets from home, from Surat by post. Two packets came and I’ve been feeding them from the one that was broken into at a corner by the powerful, nihilist rats of India Post. Mynas love ganthiya, just as I do, just as seagulls and crows and sparrows do. So they are munching on this delightful snack thanks to those rats, who I suspect are probably friends with the mynas and knowingly contaminated one packet when they saw my address on the package: they knew it would reach their friends too.