Thane Creek's flamingo season has been
part of this city's identity for a generation. What happens when the birds
decide to move on?
There is a photograph that exists in some
version in almost every Mumbai birdwatcher's archive. Thane Creek at sunrise.
The water barely moving. And stretching as far as the frame will hold — pink.
An ocean of pink, so dense and so still it looks like the creek itself has
changed colour overnight.
For Mumbai — a city that prides itself on
absorbing everything and losing nothing — the flamingo season was one of the
few things that felt genuinely irreplaceable. Not a festival that could be
rescheduled. Not a restaurant that could reopen somewhere else. Just birds.
Choosing this city, every single year, because something about it was worth the
journey.
This year, that something seems to have
shifted.
El Niño has not been kind to the shallow
wetlands that make Thane Creek and Vashi habitable for flamingos. The food is
not where it used to be. The water levels are wrong. The birds — and flamingos
are nothing if not honest about their requirements — have started looking
elsewhere.
There is no grief in this. Nature does
not grieve. It recalibrates.
But for the Mumbaikars who have been
making that early morning drive for fifteen, twenty, twenty-five years, there
is something undeniably strange about arriving at a place you know by heart and
finding it quieter than it should be. Something that sits somewhere between
loss and curiosity.
The sightings near Mulund Hills are the
curiosity part. Reports from birdwatchers suggest the displaced flock — or a
significant portion of it — may have found a new patch of the city worth
settling in. Higher. Quieter. Greener on the edges. Closer to the national park
buffer where the air doesn't carry the weight of the city quite so heavily.
If the flamingos have found something in
Mulund Hills, they are telling us something about it.
They have always been better at choosing
places than we are.
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