At the Pond

In our age of multitasking, it is difficult – perhaps inconceivable to some - to sit still and silent for long. It goes against our notion of the times we live in. Yet, once in a while, we may find ourselves in a position of doing just that. How is that experience?

I found out when, in pursuit of bird photography, I sat by the pond for hours at a stretch without moving or speaking.

On a memorable day, at a pond deep inside Satchori National Park and surrounded by dense foliage of trees big and small, I discovered that I was actually capable of sitting still and silent while remaining alert for the entire afternoon. Further, I surprised myself by really enjoying the experience.

Since then, I have sat at the pond several times to watch and photograph birds.

It started two years ago when I went to photograph birds at Satchori (in Habiganj, about three hours' drive from Dhaka.) Soon after arriving there I complained to my guide Rahim that I was having difficulties finding birds up in the trees, hiding behind leaves. He thought for a moment and suggested we check out a pond inside the forest. There might be some birds there, he said.

We hiked well into the forest before taking a right turn from the main trail into a smaller one with thick vegetation on both sides. After another ten minutes, the trail rose several feet. Climbing up, we took an almost invisible turnoff to the left. This descended into a small pond - perhaps twenty-five feet on each side - that sat hidden surrounded by plants on all sides. It had been dug there by forest officials as water supply for wildlife. I could have easily walked past without noticing it.

For the next few hours I sat by this pond, looking at the water and plants growing on its steep and muddy banks. Taller trees enmeshed with smaller plants in the background all around the pond. Branches and twigs grew this way and that along edges and across corners. Vegetal debris – dried grass stalks, rotting leaves – dotted the exposed soil.

Soon I lost track of time. Birds came and went. They jumped from weed to plant to tree, perched on branches and dived in for bathing. Smaller flycatchers darted from their perch in pursuit of miniscule flying prey. Some birds appeared on the larger trees with the intention of bathing – but then flew away, perhaps seeing us.

But even when birds were absent – which was most of the time – it was almost a spiritual experience, completely surrounded by primitive beauty with minimal noise and interruptions. The earthy scent of decomposing leaves, the wet soil, the moisture coming off the pond, the flies, mosquitoes and ants all worked together to create this.

The time I spent at the pond not only revealed some wonderful birds. It also taught me something about myself that I had not known.

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