A sea of green broad leaves. Pale purple flowers pop up on occasion. A pond heron stands perfectly still on this mat of greenery. The blue waters are barely visible. Water hyacinth. It grows voraciously, swallowing the river, clogging the channel, and tangling in the boat's propeller. Purple swamphens peck about on the wet meadows…
The kuk-kuk-kuk of the swamphen carves through the otherwise-silent night. The Phragmites rustles in the gentle breeze, creaking like old wooden stairs. We pad along the bundt, silent as panthers, flashlights off, Subas da in the lead. Himaja yawns, already bored before the watch has begun. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the lack of light;…
Little silver fish skip across the water's surface, so light and quick they might as well be flying. Like silver bullets, they cleave the waves effortlessly, skipping like stones. Fishermen spin their nets once, twice, and let them go. The nets flare as they descend. A meal secured. The terns flap noisily around the nets,…
The waters are silvery-gold, shimmering lightly in the morning sunlight. The fisherfolk are already hard at work; their days begin at the crack of dawn. Nets whirl elegantly, fanning out in a circle. There are no women in sight; fishing in Odisha appears to be a male-dominated task. The men are busy fixing torn nets…
On Life and Wildlife 