Tangents
Anjan <i>and</i> the Bees
Anjan and Bee. Photo: Ihtisham Kabir
I had decided to wait for the rains before returning to Baldha Garden. I was there last December when the sad-looking leaves were covered with a thick layer of Dhaka dust. They made me long for the wet season. So when it rained for a few days, I decided to visit the trees, hoping for some good pictures. As it so often happens, I was sidetracked. Sure, the trees wore luxurious green leaves. The air smelled of wet soil, roasting peanuts and a mix of familiar and exotic flower scents. I was looking forward to taking a close look at many trees. But when I entered the garden, I saw bright purple flowers growing all over the branches of a tree about eight feet tall. Dozens of bees were visiting the flowers. The yellow bees contrasted nicely with the purple. Of course I was distracted. You would be, too. When flowers bloom in spring, bees become busy, collecting goodies for their hives. While taking pollen, they also collect nectar in a second “honey stomach”, where digestion starts. Back in the hive, the bees regurgitate the nectar, and “fanning” bees help dehydrate the nectar into honey. What fascinated me was that the bees repeatedly visited the same flowers. Does that mean they were unable to carry off all the pollen and nectar at once, even from a small flower? Did the flower produce more pollen and nectar rapidly for the bees? The tree had much to gain from the bees which spread pollen and help it reproduce. I went from one distraction to another. While trying to photograph the bees against the sky, I saw the bats. There were hundreds of them, a foot or two long, hanging upside down from a tall nut tree. Their faces looked like tiny foxes, and it was an unsettling sight. I looked for activity but there was none. Bats are nocturnal so I assume they were asleep during the day. Every few minutes one would gently flap its wing, as if shooing away insects. Then I looked around and found several other trees with colonies of bats high overhead. Returning my attention to the purple flowers, I saw the tree had no name plaque. I asked but nobody knew its name. “Ask Dulal,” I was told. I found Dulal, the most knowledgeable person there, in the Psyche part of the garden, emptying out one of those water tanks that hold water lilies and lotuses. After the water had drained, frogs were hopping around in the mud at the bottom of the tank. Dulal and a helper were extricating them with a net. I tried to catch their jump with my camera, but they were too fast. “Why get rid of the frogs?” I asked. “Because they eat Amazon lilies, and we are going to grow those here,” he said. Between the bees, bats and frogs, I had almost forgotten about the purple flowers. On my way out, Dulal told me their name: anjan.
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