The Kites of Sunder Nursery

The Raptors of Delhi

Hey friends,

Greetings from somewhere between Delhi and Bangalore, India!

I am finally done with this university semester, and I’m heading back to Bangalore for two days, before heading to the jungle. This issue will be sent from the air, somewhere over the Indian countryside.

Today, I am sharing another journal entry that is not making it into my upcoming book. As I edit the manuscript, I must cut anything that does not really serve the larger story. This was one of those stories.

(For those interested) The reason I am not including this in the book is that it reads merely like a journal entry, which is to say that the story does not have any takeaway. It does not have any meat that will move the larger narrative of my memoir forward. It is just an anecdote, a pleasant experience with wildlife, but not powerful enough to include in the book.

I’ve learnt that writing a memoir is all about keeping those stories that actually move the narrative forward (and writing those stories in such a way that they don’t seem like stand-alone incidents). This is one of the main things you learn when you write a memoir!

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The Kites of Sunder Nursery

While roaming around the famed Sunder Nursery of Delhi—a large park dotted with grassy lawns and old Mughal ruins, I discovered that a large population of black kites swarmed there. They gathered in the thousands for reasons known only to them. They roosted around the shattered Mughal tombs, voicing their shrill cries all day. They were more plentiful than crows, a sight you’ll only believe when you see. 

Keen to study this raptor, I made numerous visits to the park. I’d carry a light bag with my sketchbook, a novel, two Subway sandwiches and a large water thermos, spending the entire day observing these birds.

One time, I reached the nursery at around 11 am. A gentle winter breeze hung in the air as I wandered through the trees. Seeing me approach, the kites took to the air. But I wasn’t concerned. If I sat quietly close by, I knew they’d realise I wasn’t a threat and resume their normal activities. I found a quiet corner amongst the ruins and settled in for the long haul.

A blurry image of a black kite I took in Kochi, Kerala.

The first 20 minutes were uneventful as the birds remained in the air, unsure what to make of me. I could not help but wonder if their piercing calls were expressions of indignation at my presence. 

They were not the only birds that were singing. The chattering of a dozen parakeets fell upon my ears while the odd crow cawed in the distance. Pigeons somehow flew unafraid in the swarm of kites that now blotted out the sky. It took an hour until most birds had stopped flying and either perched or landed on the ground.

Out of the daze, a deafening horn came from a few hundred feet away. A train horn. It was so loud that for a second, I thought a train would burst through the stone walls and derail into the nursery. I jumped up in fright. 

To my surprise, the birds seem unfazed. They didn’t even flinch. How puzzling! My entrance into the ruin prompted their over-the-top reaction, but this loud sound went unacknowledged. The birds were clearly accustomed to the sound of the train. They just continued to call relentlessly. A part of me thought that the birds were laughing at my sudden reaction.

My throat started to close up. I hadn’t drunk water since I left my university campus five hours earlier. Thirsting for a sip, I grabbed my bottle. But the movements of my hands seemed to disturb the birds. At once, the kites flapped into the air—a great swirl of brown feathers. They took a few rounds in the air column, annoyed at my movement.

I saw two kites engaged in some activity. There was a visible commotion as one bird mounted the other and flared its wings. A tussle ensued, which lasted for about 30 seconds. The birds were mating.

It gave me great joy that these birds were breeding here. In a short while, the female would build a nest with twigs and lay her eggs, bolstering the population of these magnificent birds.

Hours passed. A small black kite swerved deftly just a few feet from my face. Another individual defecated mid-air. Two locked talons over a piece of meat. They came and went, never failing to impress me with their acrobatics. 

Then I saw something; a bird different from the rest. An oddity in that massive swirl of kites. For a second, I thought it was another species, but as I peered closely, I saw that it had the same shape and structure as the black kite. It is just a pale white instead of the typical dark brown. A leucistic individual!

Leucism occurs when an animal experiences partial pigmentation due to some genetic miracle. As a result, it appears paler than other members from the same species. It is a freak occurrence, and coming across such an individual is very rare.

All too soon, my Subway sandwiches and my patience got over. It was time to leave. The sun shone at an oblique angle, throwing the shattered Mughal ruins of the nursery into relief. Its orangish hue made the dozens of kites look most spectacular. By now, the birds were completely tolerant of my presence. I could approach within a few feet without them showing any discomfort.

It’s flattering how some wild creatures distinguish between a human with no ill intent and one who spells trouble. I silently thanked them for allowing me to share in their presence. Having packed up my stuff, I headed towards the metro station.

Postcard

My latest sketch of a Dhole or Asiatic Wild Dog. It’s been a while since I drew something—it felt good to hold a pen again!

Favourite Quote

This is the first paragraph in Dr. Jill Biden’s (the first lady of the US) memoir. Regardless of your political preferences, you’ll probably agree that this paragraph is extremely well written.

To write my memoir, I must study the works of others and see how they’ve captured their stories. This is one of the paragraphs that stuck out from my notes!

A girl I barely know anymore stares out at me from a grainy wedding photo. She has feathered hair and wears a delicate tea-length white dress. She walks behind two little boys—frozen forever in their earnest jackets and ties—who already have her heart. As she approaches the stark, slatted door of the U.N. Chapel, her smile gives no hint of the journey that brought them to this day. - Dr. Jill Biden

Have a creative, wild and inspiring week!

If you’re new, welcome to The Owlet! My name is Ishan Shanavas, and I am an Artist, Photographer, Writer and Student of the Natural World.

Here I talk about my work, along with curating the most interesting ideas on the internet. I confine them to topics like Nature, Culture, Photography, and Art but often fall prey to other genres.

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