“A lake is a landscape's most beautiful and expressive 

feature. It is Earth's eye; looking into which the beholder 

measures the depth of his own nature.”

― Henry David Thoreau  (1817-1862), Walden

We are lucky to have this lake.

I must make sure it remains long after I am gone.

a couple of short video clips from hebbal lake on 17 feb 2013

Birdsong on 16 Feb, 2013

Hebbal Lake after a night of rain.

The air is filled with birdsong.

The air also carries the stench of something that has died. It comes from a half eaten carcass of a dog with a beautiful face.

Through the slush I head out towards the little wetland area to find birds. 

Overflowing drainage makes my path difficult. The scattering of garbage underfoot is bad but not so bad that it can't be cleaned up if some 100 people spend one hour at the same time. That's what I think.

Men with toothbrush in mouth and lota in hand behind a mound of earth.

My presence makes them vanish.

Three or four people are taking a walk on the raised bund. Motorcycle riders zoom past. It is a shortcut for people in a hurry. 

There's work ahead if the lake and the land around it have to be put to other, more public and social uses. That is obvious.

Little birds, large birds, creaking, screeching, calling, whistling, singing, birds flying like arrows, birds wading majestically, birds twittering atop trees...

There's a great poem about Peter the Great of Russia standing lost in thought in front of an immense swamp. He reclaimed it and created a city of bridges and buildings with domes, gardens and palaces. Where there was a swamp, now flows the Neva, the soul of that historical city, known once as Petrograd.

There's inspiration to be found everywhere. We have ideas, energy, and knowledge. We have the will and we have a team that is sure to grow. 

My dreams are simple, and I am no emperor. I know that one day soon I shall sit by the waterfront at the Hebbal lake and wait for the sunset, as children gather to play and birds return to their nests to roost.

2 February 2013

A body of water.

Birds in the sky, birds on treetops, birds swimming in the water.

Sweet chirrups, songs, calls.

Light and colour. Tender green of grass and leaves, greys and oranges and shiny black of birdwings, the lilac haze of the horizon in the distance.

A quiet morning by a small lake in Mysore. A lake that is ours to enjoy, ours to protect, ours forever to share with other lives, lives that thrive on water.

Around the lake, there is a community. Factories. Hospitals. Shops. Schools. Homes.

Communities of humans  generate waste. They can’t help it. Factories, hospitals, homes… all generate waste.  Some of this waste gets into this body of water and…

The tender green grass shrivels up.

The grey and orange bird flies away.

The water bleeds pale purple and oily green. The flow slows down and a slush settles where life thrived.

A stench builds up.

The birds, the frogs and fish, the plants and grass have no weapon to fight stagnant sludge.

We do.

We have the knowledge, we have the skills. Above all, we have a responsibility.

What can I do?

First and foremost, I promise not to abandon a water body that should be protected.

Team up with others who care.

Clean up what I can around the lake.

Go back to the lake again and again. Go with a friend.

These are things anyone can do.

It is a beginning. For me.

Where is this lake? Who led me there? When did I see it for the first time? What makes this lake a focus? 

If you were with me that Sunday morning, you would know the answers to some of those questions. 

Would you share your thoughts with me via your comments?