Mind’s eye


After 8 hours of bumpy ride on our third day at the safari, I decided to stay at the camp instead of joining Sean in an evening safari. We had left Enkawa camp at 6:15 in the morning after witnessing a gorgeous sunrise. We rode all the way to Mara river to see a glimpse of the great migration of animals crossing the river. We saw some dramatic escapadse as I wrote on one of my previous blogs. We waited for hours to see a leopard and finally came back to eat a late lunch after 2:30 pm. Caleb, our wonderful driver and guide, turned to us with his brilliant smile and said, “So, should we go out again at 4:30?” My enthusiastic husband said an enthusiastic ‘sure!’ The other couple in the van also committed to the 4:30 safari to see a sunset in the savanna. I declined to get on that van again. My back declined. Instead, I decided to spend the evening enjoying the vastness in front of my very own glamorous tent.

I wanted to take a nice hot shower, I wanted to take a book, sit outside on the porch and take in the beauty in front of me.

I did just that. After Sean left, I took a luxurious shower, washed my hair, moisturized my body, took my kindle and sat on the camp chair outside our tent to read. It is hard to focus on written words when nature revealed itself in front of me in its resplendent glory. I must have been immersed in the words of Abraham Verghese (I was reading The Covenant of Water) because when I looked up I was startled. Right in front of me there were some zebras grazing. You have to understand I am a city girl. I was raised in the congested city of Kolkata. I live in the suburbs of US now and I get to see my share of deer, fox, rabbits and birds, but I never thought in my wildest (haha, see what I did there?) dreams that I will be sitting close to zebras grazing right in front of me. I will always remember that moment.

The first day we checked into the camp, we saw three wildebeests resting under a tree right in front of our camp. That was a magical moment too till we realized that they come there every day looking for shade during the heat of the day. We became used to their presence, but had never seen zebras that close. When Caleb and Wilson, our driver and spotter, picked us from the airstrip in Mara, they said they will take us on a safari tour before taking us to the Enkewa camp. Within a few minutes we saw a male ostrich prancing not to far from us. We whipped our binoculars out to see the deep pink color of this hindside and his legs. Male ostriches, we were told, turn pink when they look for a mate. Right after that we saw herds of wildebeests and zebras. I remember that moment being full of wonder. We had never seen anything like this before. The next day, however, herds of wildebeests, zebras, topis. antelopes, wild buffaloes, and even families of warthogs would become commonplace. While we appreciated seeing them, we would consider them part of the landscape as we saw animals that did not make them as easily accessible as these others, like lions, elephants, jackals, serval cats, rhinos, cheetas, leopards….

There were so many magical moments. The first time I spotted something orange that turned out to be a pride of lions, or when Sean spotted tall heads of giraffes from a bush and we drove next to them as they calmly looked at us and continued eating. The sun radiating its last light on the scruffy grass of the savanna dotted generously by the dark bodies of wildebeests or striped zebras. The buffalo families glaring at our van in a hostile manner as we drove by them. The curious face of the momma hyena as it interrupted her feasting on a dead wart hog to look at us, the onlookers.

Since I read Wordsworth’s poem, I Wondered Lonely as a Cloud as a child, I ingrained within me these lines:

“For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

In my mind’s eye, I revisit these magical moments. On my walk this morning, my mind had wondered back to the moment when I first saw the ostrich right after getting off our little plane in Mara. The first sighting of lions. the mama rhino whisking her baby away to protect it from us, the little elephant learning to kick tufts of grass from earth to dislodge it, the baby hippo lying on top of mama, the little jackal waiting to eat the remains of the lioness’ kill, the baby cheetahs playing with each other and mom. I have photos. But I also have them in my mind’s eye. I seek upon these moments in solitude and relive them all over again.

Solitary vs lonely


While chopping vegetables, profound thoughts come to me. Like whether I am a lover of solitude or am I lonely? I am alone this weekend, but more about that later. I am also at an interesting transitional point in life. My two children are adults now. I am in a comfortable relationship with my partner where the throes of passion (both in love and anger) are on the simmer. We spend our evenings in relative quiet, he doing his thing and me reading. We give each other space to pursue happiness in our own ways. It took me a while to realize that my happiness is not dependent on anyone but me. Gone are the days of hectic activities of school, work, dinner, homework, swim practice, baseball practice. I have a lot of time in my hands and no one to dictate me how to spend my free time. I choose solitude and books. I like this new phase in my life and in our relationship.

As I said, I am alone this weekend. Since I came from work last evening, I have not spoken to anyone except for a friend who called me to talk about book donation. I want to see if I can go through the weekend without actually interacting with another human being. I have some errands to run so that may be difficult. But I will not engage in any meaningful conversation with anyone. A social experiment, I call it. I read somewhere that urban loneliness is affecting not only the elderly population but also the young. I am not elderly yet. Middle aged and a recluse. I remember an interview of a young woman who had moved to a city for work. She never spoke to anyone over the weekends when she didn’t have work. I thought of her today. Did she miss human interaction? Why don’t I? Interestingly, when I am with my friends at work, I love our engagement. I love them. I love that we can laugh together. But once I come home, I am satisfied to just be home.

This is not a new thing. My very extroverted mother did not understand my need to be away from people. If I made a plan to meet up with friends, I dreaded the meet-up and complained constantly that I did not want to go. “But these are your dear friends!” Ma would say. And when I actually dragged myself to meet them, I had the best time. But when I came back, I was also relieved to be home and happy that I had a good time.

Along with age, I have grown to love this solitude even more. I have wondered if I am lonely. Rarely do I have miss being with people. Strangely though, all my jobs have been people oriented. I work at a public library and I interact with people all day and I do it well.

Here I am, sitting in complete silence in my house, typing my thoughts. I was in the middle of making bed and folding laundry but there is no one in the house to expect me to finish that. That is a luxury – to be on my own timeline, with my own thoughts.

Lastly, there is a great fiction depicting this transitional phase in women by Catherine Newman called Sandwich. Some books speak to you and some books talk about you. Sandwich does both.

What is the difference between solitude and loneliness?