The lazy Sun crawls through the unforgiving canopy. It settles, warmly, painting the water below. 

Green. Dark. Still. 

I stare into the eye of a chameleon, it holds the river within. Its spirit wavers, with the river, and a throbbing flurry of voices, like droning, buzzing flies, wrap the air around. 

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Ta - shhh - di - shh- ta - sh - ta 

Ta - sh - di - s - ta - ki - ta 

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Curiosity crawled through the unforgiving, tearless, river of an eye. I made my way through the bushes, aiming at patches of light. 

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TA - ka - DI - mi - TA - ki - TA 

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I settle down nearby, drawn by the unsettled rhythm.

 

TA - Ka - DI - Mi - TA - Ki - TA 

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Men at work. Crafting boats. In-built, genetic rhythm. Ancestral chants to break the monotony of life and work, as they go on, crafting rafting boats. 

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TA - Ka - DI - Mi - TA - Ki - TA 

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Scents of Chaia wading through the mire. I catch hold of it, follow it to its end, like a kid hoping to find gold at the end of a rainbow. That hypnotic, sleepy smell. That lazy sunlight. That imperfect, droning chant. 

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TA - Ka - DI - Mi - TA - Ki - TA 

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I'm handed a glass, along with a side of bright smiles. 

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TA - Ka - DI - Mi - TA - Ki - TA 

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A sip and whiff later, I feel the spirit of the chameleon. I change colour. Blood gushed through my veins, cheering up my palms and face. A simple blush, for tea. *Chaia, corrects a voice, reaching out from the 

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TA - Ka - DI - Mi - TA - Ki - TA

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Advaith doesn't like writing about himself in third person. He's a jack-of-few trades and works closely with wildlife conservation NGOs.