It is true that all good things come to an end. They simply must. Otherwise, bad things will happen. And then, we will be running around, as though fire ants were snacking on our brain tissues, wondering where it all went wrong.
This blog has been a very important part of my life since 2014. More than whatever else I may have gone through during that time. The failures, the triumphs, the injuries, and the unexpected outcomes. It is not just a portfolio to give my career a boost. Or a journal to record my midlife crisis. I have interacted more with you – the reader – than with people in the outside world. Those, who have been here from the start, probably know me better than my closest friends. Because I have found it much easier, to be unfiltered while herding paragraphs and verses. About my experience with birds. My estranged perspectives and insignificant problems. It has been a bonfire of my vanities. I am surprised that you have been coming here as often as you have. In fact, I have been silently judging you for it.
Haven’t you had anything better to do?
Well, I am sure that you have. But, you took the time anyway to read my posts, hit the “like” button and share your comments. Whether I babbled about my trysts with birds, mammals, reptiles and insects or regurgitated the inane details of my childhood, you were always there to inspire me to keep writing.
I have said this before, but in case you missed it – I am deeply thankful for your encouragement and support. I am still amazed that despite better judgment – over 5800 people have agreed to receive email updates from me. More importantly, without your participation as a reader, bird-watching may not have played such a huge part in my life. In some way, shape or form, you have helped me to become the person I turned out to be, over the past few years.
You have been the comma in my sentence. A pleasant surprise of a raisin inside my slice of garlic bread. So, no matter the person that you may be, even if you are the sort who soccer-kicks blind kittens in their shins, I offer you a lungful of my love.
Thank you for being there for me. I hope that I have given you something to think about or at least, have made you curious abut the lives of birds. I am grateful that some of you discovered the joys of bird-watching after stumbling upon this blog. And I urge you to pass the love around.
Now, this may sound like a sentimental farewell letter. A proclamation that the end is nigh for the VerseHerder blog. It sort of is. Because I will no longer be posting photo essays about bird-watching and human behavior. Instead, VerseHerder will be a gateway to newer material for a few months.
Last weekend, it just hit me when I was watching Greater Flamingos as they foxtrotted on shallow waters. It suddenly dawned on me that I needed to spill my creative juices on new canvases. There was no drama behind the decision. It took me about 20 seconds to be sure of it.
Ever since I got over my speech impediment, I have had a secret desire of becoming a creepy, middle-aged and soft-spoken radio jockey. A few weeks ago, I was told that I could be a loud-mouthed, middle-aged and aggrieved podcaster. Thanks to my good buddy – Shuveb Hussain, I will be a co-hosting a soon-to-be-released podcast called Nothing In Particular. We will be publishing weekly episodes on our own website, as well as on iTunes. It is a show about…. prepare to be amazed… nothing in particular.
Thankfully, Shuveb is a cat-like wizard and a knowledgeable human – with a baritone made for podcasting. Or luring in unwitting victims into an abandoned warehouse for the slaughter. We will be featuring guests from different walks of life. We have even snared a reluctant bookworm for episode 2. As for me, I laugh like a Kookaburra with laryngitis, yell incoherently, and try my damnedest not to use explicit language.
I am also excited about kick-starting a webcast on my YouTube channel about movies, and a new WordPress blog that may not have anything to do with birds. But, I will be posting the updates here for a few months so that you do not miss out on any of them.
Because I would be thrilled if you can continue this journey with me by subscribing to the podcast, and following me wherever I go.
And, you can continue to share my love for birds on these platforms:
So, in the words of Truman, “Good morning, and in case I don’t see you, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight”.
like dry leaves,
with rust stains
of charcoal brown,
like old LPs