A walk in the backyard wilderness

My three year old darts out to the warm summer evening having been cooped up inside the house all day. The wild backyard is a welcome sight as golden sunlight slants through the leaves of the Ber tree. Its overripe maroon berries carpet the ground and their sweet aroma tinges the air. Shriveled leaves and weeds crunch under our feet as we explore around. The ground is parched and the plants look droopy, yet different shades of green catch the eyes. I bend down to pick a few plump, red tomatoes growing near the southern wall of the yard and snap a twig of curry leaves for tomorrow’s dal tadka. Fireweeds, amaranthus and carrot grass are growing in clumps all around. Near the eastern wall I peek at a sapling which looks similar to a tamarind tree. I love the intricacy of its pinnate leaf and hand one over to my son. He stuffs it in his pocket among pebbles, grasses and such – his “treasures from the wild”, as he likes to put it. A gang of sunbirds show up flitting and twittering in the branches of a nearby mango tree and moments later, a squirrel runs up the tree scattering them. Behind the southern wall I glance at the neighbour’s property which has turned into a pond. In monsoon, moorhens and kingfishers gather nearby, lush green water plants overgrow and the frogs croak incessantly on rainy nights. For now, the crickets have begun their chirrup in the thickets around it. The coos of an Asian Koel resonate through the air. The sun slowly dips down behind a stand of chinaberry trees. It signals us to head back inside for evening snacks and for me, a hot cup of chai – for chai is a must, regardless of the season.