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The Kingfisher and I

It rained. For more than twenty four continuous hours. When it finally stopped, and the rain-mist cleared, the landscape was changed. There was water everywhere – every place that could hold water did. There were no puddles. Instead, there were islands.

Immediately next to our apartment complex is a construction site, where huge pits have been hand-dug over the past couple of months by a small team of resident workers. It looks like someone is trying to build a block of apartments on a shoestring budget. Watching them work, I used to wonder at how primitive the whole operation was – in spite of the presence of a jackhammer which was being used to break up the harder rocks.

After the rain, the site resembles a large swimming pool, or rather, a large swimming pool and several smaller ones around it.

This morning, Vidya called to me, “Quick, there’s a kingfisher!”

I went and looked, and sure enough, there was a white breasted kingfisher, sitting on the handle of an abandoned digging tool (I have no idea what it’s called in English – Indian spade, perhaps?). The kingfisher sat there, looking around and suddenly flying off to catch an odd insect. I got a few none-too-clear pictures of him before he flew off in search of more productive fishing grounds.

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