Long-awaited post: the zero waste project

After taking a look at the archives widget of my blog, I am really surprised myself. I’ve noticed that I am most active in the ninth month of the year. Most of my posts and upload is done in the September month. It is perhaps the best and fertile month for my brain.

Anyway, I’ve been wanting to do this post for very long time. But I was too caught up with my photography madness and desire to show the frames and photographic skills to the world – to be approved, accepted and appreciated by fellow facebookers and bloggers – that a lot of things other than internet and camera seemed like a secondary thing. With each “Like” on the post, you are elevated to another level and it drives you to sheer madness. I would be lying if I say that I don’t care about the “Likes”. As a matter of fact, there’s no control to my cupidity. That’s why I have deactivated my facebook account. Sadly, we have to request the facebook people to delete permanently one’s account. Looks like I have tied a Gordian knot.

There’s a problem with the “Likes” also. You know! it’s really hard to tell whether the likes are really “Sincere and admiring Likes” or just “Poor guy! No like at all. Let me donate one for him Likes.” But who the hell cares, the more is merrier.

When all is been said and done for the sake of the blog’s popularity, you step out of your comfort zone and begin to explore new places.  And most often your zealousness hits rock bottom when you see others’ works. No matter how hard we may try, we end up comparing ourselves to others. And when you feel you are too amateurish for the job, then you find times for other things you like to do.

I am really happy with myself. Despite a year and half of intense affairs with facebook, and apart from my teaching job, I could find time to do what I’m really fond of doing – doing artwork. So I‘m happy indeed. In fact, I am very excited to publicize my artworks (Zero Waste Project); I have done it earlier on my other sites though. I sincerely hope that when you hit the “Likes” this time, it’ll be a sincere like – coming straight from your heart. I am wondering if I have also become a citizen of narcissist nation.

I called my artworks a “Zero Waste Project” because it is based on Zero Waste concept, which give emphasizes on waste prevention as opposed to end of pipe waste management. Zero waste concept include eliminating waste through recycling and reuse, it focuses on restructuring production and distribution system to reduce waste. I hope it’s pretty obvious now that I have created all my artworks with waste materials. From Poly bags, waste paper, cloth scraps, food packages, and so on. This was the finest way to contribute something to nature – in a small way, of course.

Lastly, I would like to take this opportunity to thank thanal and it’s Zero waste Centre for introducing me to Zero Waste. The works done by you guys are truly inspiring. And thanks mom for your support. You must have become immune to my habit of shutting myself from social hubbub.

Here are some of my works,

Title: Native American
A tribute to Tiger
Title: Ode to Tiger
Title: Mahatma
Title: Revolutionary Che
Belly full of plastic
Title: Belly full of plastics

A lemon tree and her visitors

“That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.” ― Emily Dickinson

IMG_3019 (The lemon tree)
The Lemon Tree

Two meters away from my bedroom window, close to our granary, we have a lemon tree. It used to bear massive and delicious lemons. Once I asked my mother how it got there. She told me that my sisters may have planted it while I was in boarding school.

Over the years, we’ve harvested its produce countless times. Sometimes it would give us a plentiful harvest; at other times good. My mother would take it to the market to sell whenever reap would be plenteous. But, many a time, we would just give it away to our friends and relatives to share the grace. Then there were our neighborhood that would slyly sneak in our property, but its robust spikes had often thwarted their ambitions.

As time goes on; as year turned into years. Everything begins to fade away. Our lemon tree is also showing us the sign that she has grown old. I’ve tried to prune its withered branches, but it didn’t help her much. Still it bears fruit, but the size has reduced to a tiny ball. Of late, despite her age, she began to attract a lot of new visitors. She‘s getting on quite well with feral birds, besides the fact that it has been a playground for numerous house sparrows ever since she attained three meters in height.

Some months ago, I saw a beautiful white bird with a long tail perched on its branch. I couldn’t believe what I witnessed. A fine looking bird on our lemon tree! In the heart of Hapoli town! Since I’d never seen this beautiful bird in my entire life, I thought it must be new specie. So I used to address him/her as an “Angel bird” until someone told me its name – Asian Paradise flycatcher. For two days, Angel bird would come, groom and hop about for hours while hiding among the branches. Though it has never visited our lemon tree again, but its majestic look was permanently etched on my mind, will remain there till the last breath.

That wasn’t the beginning of the end for visitors. Among others, the Tits were also enrolled in the list.

In another incident; it was rather very early morning when I was woken up by birds chirping. As I opened the window a crack, I saw two Red-vented Bulbuls alighting on a branch. Two were already there – settled on nearby branch. House Sparrows consider our lemon tree as their own, their recreational area. So they were trying to scare away the new visitors. Despite their boisterous chirpings, they were unable to budge the Bulbuls.

After the flight of the Bulbuls, the lemon tree has become the dominion of Sparrows again. Not for long, though. The Bulbuls have kept returning to our lemon tree since last few days.

Needless to say, this chapter will pass. Nothing stays same forever. Someday we all are going to make our exit – at destined time. Our lemon tree. The sparrows. The Bulbuls. Money. Friends. Happiness. Grief. You. And me. However, I’m enjoying every bit of it while it last. I’ll cherish our lemon tree while I still can and I’ll miss her when she’ll be not around.  By the way, who can tell whose numbers will be up first?

Asian-Paradise flycatcher
Red-vented bulbul

In pursuit of Salyo Pakhu

A week ago, at a friend’s home, the matter under discussion was Salyo Pakhu (a kind of spice). In the end, my friends and I decided to trek the Gyabu forest for it.

The frosty track
Pine grove
The fern
The forest
A friend, a picker
Salyo Pakhu: the focal point
To dust we return…
Group Photo Session, but one of my friends is missing – behind the camera. Yep!
The fascinations of the nature are eternal.
In fact, a stream. But we call it ” river “.
Way back home. The  track at dusk looked quite charming
The shed by the paddy field.
The sun leaving a trace, while the moon rapidly rise
The paddy field. At last, I rest my camera.

The Lake in Itanagar

Though I heard a lot about Taai Siimi a.k.a. Gyaker Siinyi a.k.a. Ganga Lake I couldn’t muster enough passion in me to visit it.

D-day finally arrived. Obviously, my expectation (to get hold of a great shot of the lake) was extremely high.

I got frustrated when I saw the face of the lake. It was not a photogenic as expected.

My friend and I toured the length and breadth, but nothing strikes me. The lake appeared to be quite depressing and sinister.

My mom used to tell us a story about the Taai Siimi.

According to Apatani folklore, a man stumbled across an unclaimed Gayal near the Taai Siimi. The mammal bred beyond imagination. The rise in numbers consequent upon the prosperity of the man. At long last, the man decided to sacrifice it to the God. Perhaps the consideration was immoral in God’s eye. And so the mammal took all her progeny and vanished into the lake.


An invitation of hike

During a weekend meeting, Dr. Kanno asked me if I want to go for a hike. I was somewhat diffident to join him as I got drenched with rain while I was returning home from my place of work. I thought I was going to catch a cold, but it was an invitation I couldn’t refuse.

The minute I reached home I plugged in my camera to a socket to charge it.

At night, he SMSed me to tell the time of departure.

The next day we were accompanied by three other hikers. One of them was actually going to check the trap he set for the rat at his privately-owned forest. My fellow hikers informed me that Ziro, of late, is experiencing a mass migration of rats. Since the meat of rat is considered as exotic delicacy by many, hence the rat-trap.

I don’t want to bore anyone with the text. . . So please go ahead. . .

Ziro, in Spring.

Myoko festival was coming to an end. One more ritual ‘moreh éha la’ was yet to be performed in a community forest to give thanks to the God of the Forest for endowing with rich resources.

A band of brothers set out on such journey to proffer their deference. And I was a part of the family.

As soon as we passed by pine grove, the fragrance of pines tingle our nostrils. And there were beds of infinitesimal wild flowers for our eyes. And each tiny flower was no longer than 3-5mm in diameters. I took shots after shots until the Li-ion was totally exhausted.

We mounted a few hills. When we were surrounded by many more hills, a member of the family finally announced the end of our journey. We were encircled by the splendors of spring, and it reduced me to silence.

. . . . . . 

Yes, I am hopelessly in love with the wonder and beauty of nature.

Calls of the wild

A day before, rain showered down on the valley. It had moistened the dusty roads. It had washed away all the dirt from the leaves. Finally the forest had come to life again. It flourishes with all the unfathomable colors.

I looked at the emerald hills and got lost. My deep emotion corresponds equally with the beckoning of forest. I asked myself,” What am I doing here in cubicle?” I was not tied up. I was free to tramp for a day in the wilderness (sic) – under the thick canopy of trees, in the midst of ferns.

As I approached their turf, a dash of purplish violet welcomed me and it accompanied me on my trail. Even the skies seemed to be bathed in violet, though the dark clouds were rapidly advancing to fill the entire expanse.

For four hours I walked, listen to the rhymes of brook and tried to capture the details of undergrowth.

In the forest, day really turns to dusk quite quickly. I speed up my pace to get back to the world of oafish and illogical chaos.