jaipur - may 2007

2
1 Breakfast is for the birds. Breakfast is for the birds (and for the little squirrels) if you are not vigilant. Sitting out under the eaves of my tent with a mango lassi and muffins (still warm from the oven) at seven in the morning at the Rajvilas in Jaipur, there’s an underlying hum of activity. The birds have taken their perches on the mud wall surrounding the tent and desert garden and on branches of shrubs pretty well pecked free of green. A cheekier crow with a big bent beak and many black and yellow Indian mynahs with a wide white stripe across their tails dare to stare at Michael Sahib in his flower- patterned cotton robe from the tent ropes. Can I have some too?

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Breakfast is for the Birds

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Page 1: Jaipur  - May 2007

1

Breakfast is for the birds. Breakfast is for the birds (and for the little squirrels) if you are not vigilant. Sitting out under the eaves of my tent with a mango lassi and muffins (still warm from the oven) at seven in the morning at the Rajvilas in Jaipur, there’s an underlying hum of activity. The birds have taken their perches on the mud wall surrounding the tent and desert garden and on branches of shrubs pretty well pecked free of green. A cheekier crow with a big bent beak and many black and yellow Indian mynahs with a wide white stripe across their tails dare to stare at Michael Sahib in his flower-patterned cotton robe from the tent ropes.

Can I have some too?

Page 2: Jaipur  - May 2007

2

Little squirrels with long bushy tails dart and scamper along the walls around the birds’ feet, under my feet and up the back of the chair to smell what they hopefully plan for breakfast. If I stepped inside for a minute, they’d get it. Twittering like an audience before the curtain goes up, the birds vie for my attention (or is it only my left-over muffin and toast they’re

interested in)? They watch me plaintively – like Moby at mealtime (or any time when there’s food to be had). I’m the one on centre stage, but they’re singing for me. The little birds with red underbellies and others with little crests aren’t afraid of the big-beaked black crow Other birds’ whistling, laughter, singing or repetitive calling rise and fall, filling the air and floating down from the surrounding trees. The orchestra is tuning up – for breakfast! When the crow is not around, the prettiest and colourful little birds fly in and sit on the tent rope but fly away again as soon as I make a move to get my new camera. A cheeky mynah flies in back of stage and grabs a slice of bread sticking up out of the toaster and flies off with it in its beak while my back is turned playing photographer. I’m on centre stage and I’m the one who is going to conduct this bloomin’ orchestra! What great drama and sounds of battle can I generate if I throw some crumbs to my little feathered friends and bushy tailed critters? I’ll give some the ginger jam on the old toast crusts and the others can have honey.

Since starting this communion with nature, the heat of the day has been rising steadily and its only 8am. I’ll have to discard my flower-patterned cotton robe; short as it is with slits in the side (perhaps that’s what’s attracting such attention?) Just wait till these little birds and squirrels have to cope with me in my birthday suit! I might get some peace though. MM Jaipur 5th May 2007