What is nature’s tonic and tranquiliser?

These have got to be the best parts of any day and it’s amazing how many of us miss out on them. Especially dawn. Out of the deep indigo stillness of the night, the first clear whistles of an early rising bird, breaks the silence, informing everyone that it has survived the night and all its terrors and is proclaiming its rights over its territory and inviting a mate to join it. It is quickly joined by others, all claiming the highest perches they can so that their song can carry the farthest.

If you are lucky enough to be in a forest, a sudden chorus of bird song breaks out – this is the famous dawn chorus and can lift your spirits like nothing else can. You can only stand stock still and listen to this orchestra. Soon shafts of misty sunlight are slanting their way through the trees, lighting up the forest floor and the leaves you notice sparkle like diamonds – either from dew or exudation – that rims their edges like a coronet. Chilled by the night and pearled with dew, a dragonfly more resembles a piece of jewellery rather than the predatory insect it is.

Up in the mountains it is well worth dragging yourself out of a cosy bed and stand out in the icy dew watching the mountains ahead and waiting for the first orange-gold and pink tints of sunlight tinge the peaks. In Goa, I would wait for the first brilliant rays to pierce their way through the coconut palms, and gild the house pure gold, so brightly you had to move away. Skeins of white herons would fly past, on their way where the early fishing was good as a white-throated kingfisher would flash dance down into the pool, very occasionally accompanied by a silvery paradise flycatcher.

Even in Mumbai, it was well worth watching the sun come up over the city, usually shrouded in haze, and listen out for the sounds of the huge metropolis gradually awakening to face another day. Waiting at Chandigarh station for an early morning train, I was astonished as a huge flock of steely grey bank mynas, erupted from under the roof of the nearby loco shed and streamed into the sky, creating an unholy racket they poured out, hungry for breakfast.

Misty dawn over Sultanpur (Credit: Ranjit Lal)

A misty dawn at Sultanpur National Park (this when there was mist and fog and not smog) shrouded the entire waterbody and its islands in mauve. From the water came the restive bugling of cranes, as one by one they lined up and took off in single file, heading no doubt for the nearby fields. They would be back again at the end of the day.

In the Keoladeo National Park, Bharatpur, you listened astonished as out of the ashy grey smokiness, emerged the murmur of geese, and suddenly they materialised – a flock of bar-headed geese emerging magically out of nothing, then losing height and splashing down. As a birder you think it is your bounden duty to be up at the crack of dawn, not so, the ducks you have come to see keep their heads tucked into their flanks and sleep until the sun is well up – and you are feeling foolish enough.

Sunset evokes a different mood entirely. As the light leaches out of the sky, the birds begin to return to their roost: in Delhi, when sparrows were still plentiful, they would stream into the avenue trees along with mynas and parakeets and gibber away at the tops of their voices as they jostled for the most comfortable (and safe) roosts and excitedly exchanged the gossip of the day. The noise would rise to a crescendo and then suddenly as a switch being flipped – there would be silence.

Watching and photographing the sun go down – especially over the sea, a sheet of gold – has become a passion for many. Sunset silhouettes have become a time-worn cliché and few photographers can resist clicking away at this time. For me, it signals the winding down of the day – a time to trudge back home as the sun slips into the blue-grey sea – even as the night shift begins to stir.

On the beach, the crabs begin to stir, emerging from under the sand, or their rocky crevices clattering over the rocks in search of dinner. Fruit bats as big as black kites, screech hideously, unfurl their leathery wings and head for the nearest fruiting fig, and their smaller cousins flicker about at speed, entering and exiting verandas snapping up whining mosquitoes by the dozen. Moths blur over white blooms and then crazily orbit bright lights before crashing into them and getting roasted. Spotted owlets begin to chitter querulously at each other as they sort out hunting blocks for the night. They obviously make up, for at dawn can sometimes be found exchanging passionate smooches with each other.

Deep in a forest a tiger might stretch and yawn and let out its ‘aaum-aaum’ call, lonely and haunting, (and terrifying for its prey). Snakes that have being lying doggo all day, slither out from under their rocks, their flickering heat-seeking tongues, homing in on a scuttling rodent. The first pinprick stars begin to flicker as sky turns to indigo again and if you’re lucky, a majestic butter-gold moon may rise in stately fashion, from the east.

Every dawn and every dusk is different. A brand-new fifteen-minute spectacle every morning and evening. Just the tonic and tranquiliser we all need as we face yet another hustling-bustling day, or wind down with our sundowners when the day is done.