Why Each Of Us Needs A Nature Walk Every Now And Then

Posted: March 1, 2016

A nature walk in the soothing silence on a cool morning, as the sun rises and washes all nature in light, with occasional birdsong. Read on.

You are walking along a shady road on a cool October morning.

The road is resplendent with tall trees on both sides. It is one of those days when time is not measured by the clock but by the fragrant coolness that enters lazily through your nostrils and leaves pools of contentment in its wake. The morning is arrested at the delightful moment which falls between the hush of dawn and the waking up din of a young city. There are people around, but they seem wrapped in dreams which are yet to wake up.

There are a couple of cows and a calf in an enormous vacant field in the distance. A dark brown bull and a graceful beige cow. The calf is new born; it walks about stiffly on legs which are not yet accustomed to obey its commands. As far as eye can see, the field is bathed in the many colors of green.

There is the neon green of young grass, and the deep green of mature grass. Dew shimmers in hazy blue shadows on the trembling slender stalks. Someone has walked across the field leaving dew-less footprints of dulled green on a sea of glitter. There is the vivid green of ferns growing in the wild and the forest green of Shesham trees.

The Indian mehendi green leaves of the neem trees glitter in the pale sunshine as if dipped in liquid gold. The sea green of dense bushes is the playground of hundreds of birds- some tiny like the midnight blue hummingbird, some garish like the black-hooded yellow Oriole. A crow takes a solemn ride on the back of the cow. She swishes her tail once in a while, knowing the crow will not move.

An entire flock of vibrant green parrots creates their own music as they try to drown out the calls of the koel on one hand and the kingfishers perched up on the high tension wires further on. The brown mynahs and the red-throated bulbuls are too busy foraging for food to play silly, noisy games.

The reddish-brown cuckoo sits aloof on the moss encrusted fallen limb of a tree, surveying its domain disdainfully. One can almost sense a sense of supreme detachment in the haughty lift of its head. The jet black swallows swoop gracefully about, unmindful of them all. Butterflies, wasps and bees flit about, going about their business. The world is awash with green, and with life.

You, as we agreed earlier, are walking down a dreamy road. There is a stone bench under a huge tamarind tree whose tiny leaflets are woven together with lustrous sunbeams. As if in a trance, you cross the road an sit down on that bench, facing the vacant field. You are looking at the field, yet not looking. Your mind is quiet for once. There are no thoughts to disturb the pools of contentment within you.

You have found the silence.

Published earlier here.

Image source: a forest walk by Shutterstock.