“I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all”.
The Wind is what I am writing about.
“Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.”
What better place than Chalkewadi Windmill Farm to feel the wind?
Robert Louis Stevenson could not see the wind but felt it everywhere in his poem ‘The Wind’. While Christina Rossetti too enquired the same through her poem ‘Who has seen the wind?’. I found no better way to start my post than to borrow some lines from their poems.
The vast expanse with windmills all around is a sight that creates the awe of admiration. You feel so tiny in front of these mighty pillars. You look above to see the mightier wings slowly drifting in its regular circular motion. I stand still looking above in amazement.
I have a strange thing for wind turbines. Since childhood, I get excited at the very sight of a wind turbine. But never have I been so close to wind turbines before. Chalkewadi is the only place where I came so close to the wind turbine and that too in a jungle of windmills.
On every visit to Chalkewadi, it seems to be a new experience for me. I never feel it repetitive. It is always new and fresh. Thousands of windmills add a different character to the hills. All around you see are the tall mills standing on a leg and watching us.
No not all are one-legged. Some are of other varieties too. Even though I love to watch the wind turbine since childhood, literally I am a noob in its technicalities. So what my plain inexperienced eyes caught were two different types of wind turbines.
Some had flat wired kind leg while others were had a solid cylindrical base. The one with mesh-like leg were comparatively smaller than those of cylindrical base. These were mostly of Suzlon wind turbine. Wind turbines are devices that convert the kinetic energy of the wind to electrical energy.
With not much of technical knowledge, I would get back to my experience here. I came here to feel the wind across my face, tangle my hairs to a messy bun and sing the sweet lullaby in my ears. I too felt the push that Stevenson felt. I could see the waves in the tiny bushes just like Rossetti saw in the trembling leaves.
I could not see the wind. The vast area was all by us, there was no other visitor around. I could sing I could dance I could jump around in this huge area with just the windmills watching by. I felt the wind again in the ripples of the water accumulated in a big pothole. The rainy months has transformed it into a pond. A couple of Spot Billed Duck were happily roaming around in its perfect habitat with no one to disturb.
A Singing Bush Lark was seated on a small milestone. I was not able to recognise it from a distance so I came closer and closer. As I went down from the muddy track through the grassy fields I could feel the soft grass beneath my shoes.
There were a variety of flowers beneath. Some tiny to small flowers were seen all around. Their names I know not. Just have seen a few on my earlier visits. But they are too beautiful to give the famous flowers a good competition for fame.
All of a sudden a human was in sight. I cowboy seated under the shade of a forsaken dilapidated building. As he took cover for the rains, his herd was happily churning the soft green grass. This man was pulling his shawl or the piece of cloth that he wrapped around to prevent the strong gust of wind.
Then there was a sudden ray of sunlight on one hill. The wind had blown away the clouds and the wind turbines are in motion. As if smiling to their familiar friend named Wind. I was saddened to see a huge wing of a turbine lying by its foot.
I could not make out whether it was the work of the wind or some mechanical fault that has brought it down. It seemed bold and brave dying the death of a martyr fighting the strong wind. Again I felt the wind. I felt the wind everywhere in Chalkewadi but could not see it. 🙂