'A mighty will stands paralyzed.'

Last evening, as I joined hundreds of visitors at the Mystic Aquarium, Connecticut, more than joy in seeing so many animals from the wild in one place, there was a strange ache that I felt. My children were elated to see the beautiful Beluga whales trying to touch, tease and even smile; against thick glass walls that held them captive. A 2 year old American Alligator expressed her sheer displeasure in being touched by hundreds of children and adults, by wriggling her tail and grabbing thin air with her twitched paws in what seemed to be like a losing battle.

I felt sad watching sea horses, at least a few tens of them clinging and clutching onto plastic sea plants and weeds. Schools of colorful fish swam along under bright lights in glass boxes that have been painted in all colors and patterns artificial. Nothing but glorified fish tanks.

                                             ( image : http://fusedjaw.com/aquariumcare/seahorse-care-guide/)

The California Sea Lions amazed me with their agility. They danced to a desired tune. They tossed their big, fat bodies in air, swam like whales, watched videos on big screens while turning to look at their keepers' expressions in between and offered several hand/flipper shakes and even flipper applause. I thought they looked cute, and joined my children in enjoying the show, but at the very bottom of my heart, the ache stayed.

The penguins weren't especially pleased with their tiny little habitat made of artificial rock and caves. They looked moody to me. Or they didn't like the crowd clicking flash photographs non-stop. Or some of them haven't yet been on medications for depression or moodiness.

                                                                (image: http://wallpoper.com/wallpaper/animals-penguins-361954)
Imagine being in a room, without a hideout, where you are being watched constantly by strangers; all possible tribes? My memory traced an image from the Mysore zoo- when a lone, agitated gorilla ran from one end of its closed enclosure to the other end, unable to handle visitors teasing and mocking his acts.

I tried to console myself. With many natural habitats shrinking, may be a zoo would be a better place for these animals in captivity. Also, I must say that I was indeed happy in the marshes where wild frogs camouflaged so beautifully amidst wild water plants, jumping from one lily pad to another, caring for none watching them.Their sense of belonging; high.

(image: www.uprootedphotographer.com)

In the wild, the life spans of some of these animals are much less, owing to the prey-predator equation, and is heavily dependent on which side of the equation they stand. But in zoos, the life spans of animals are much more than in the wild, thanks to regular antibiotics, bleaches, anti-depressants, and other medical/ clinical interventions. But given an option, they would like to return to where they belonged. Once upon a time.
Rilke as a phenomenon happened recently in my life. Once I discovered him, there was a strong connection between us. When I read Panther, I thought he echoed my thoughts, my feelings, my angst.

Panther

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone. 

----

'A mighty will stands paralyzed.' 

On a high on the High Line

I wrote in my previous post about bees; that I haven't seen them for a long time here. That I miss them during my walks. Not that I step out expectantly; to see the birds, the bees or the butterflies. When I go for a walk, I only want a few moments for myself. To gather my elements together. To set my spirit free, while the elements of nature stand witness. To engage in some meaningful conversation with my self. But after walking for sometime, I start missing the smells of earth, of grass, and the buzzing of bees. That's when my rational self kicks in and announces the presence of chemicals everywhere. 'So, how will you ever find a bee or a beetle?' 'Uhum', I sigh.

Last evening I was in a beautiful backyard in Mahwah, lost in a maze of beautiful hydrangea bushes - purple, blue and white, vines of snow peas, bitter gourd, and long beans, beds of spinach- red and green, a humongous jasmine bush in full bloom- its vines spilling over the brim of the tall, brick-red pot and growing in every possible direction, egg plants, and what not. While we were talking, a deer came along visiting us in the sunny patch, and made a quick exit. I was overjoyed to see the number of bees in that garden. Numerous bees and butterflies. I asked our host about her usage of pesticides. She said, 'none'. I said, 'no wonder.' By then, the sun was retiring for the day, albeit reluctantly. After dinner, we said good bye and while opening their front door to step in to the lemon porch, I was astounded. The air; redolent with the smell of insects in flight, their wings brushing swiftly against each other, their swishing sounds, the swarming wasps trying to stick to the dimly lit lamps in the portico, all lending an aura of naturalness, something that I may not even find in rustic countrysides here. How beautiful, I thought, if we were to let Nature nurture. Weeds may spring up, the wriggly worms may have a whale of a time nibbling from our leaves and buds, but won't Nature have her own mechanisms to give every one their due?

This morning, we were all on High Line, Manhattan. The High Line is a public park built on an historic freight rail line elevated above the streets on Manhattan’s West Side. Right from the point where it begins, it amazed me to no small degree. I was really lost in the vibrancy of life on the High Line. Plants, bushes, small trees, vines, shrubs- all in full bloom, in the spring of their lives.

The beautiful backyard in Mahwah served as a prelude to whatever I saw, heard and felt in High Line. Bees abound. Butterflies on a roll. No saddening, thoughtless, chemical-fed lawns. The variety of plant life amazed me. I don't recollect spotting such wild beauty in any garden here. The unpredictability of Nature- that's what touched me the most- every step I took, I was greeted by a different bush, or a different grass head. Yes, there are grass heads in High Line, you will find a million of them, with their heads held high, some of them dancing endlessly in the summer breeze, some as tall as my three year old. Nature is left to her wildest best. And then, the bees; they wouldn't sit on one flower, for they seemed to be overwhelmed. We even found a big beetle, it's green outer pod reflecting a dozen shades, trying to find a new abode inside my mom's hair-bun! During those couple of hours on High Line, I thought I had met up with all the bees in Manhattan or even the state of NY probably, I felt so happy seeing them all together; busy bees making the most of the wild flowers, sipping honey from god knows how many types of flowers. And imagine, all this blooming, buzzing and fluttering happening right in Manhattan, a minute away from the Times Square. 

To say, the least, I was on a high on the High Line. If more than 100,000 plants are planted in a mile of an old rail line right in the middle of a bustling metropolis, what else could happen, eh?