Wildbuzz | Be my Valentine, Chakvi to Chakva
These ducks are turning cinnamon-brown from orange-brown as the sun of spring ripens and prepares their colours ahead of breeding
There could be no couple which seems so desirous and committed to each other as Ruddy shelducks (Brahminy ducks). These migratory birds that never give the Sukhna lake a miss, however inhospitable its habitat may be to wintering avian tourists, are a picture of coupling elegance and commitment. A pair can be seen habituating the shade of trees to the left of the Bird Walk branching off from the regulator end.
These ducks are turning cinnamon-brown from orange-brown as the sun of spring ripens and prepares their colours ahead of breeding. Though the male and female resemble each other (as married couples oft do in enduring partnerships!), come breeding season and the drake grows a blackish necklace around his neck.
This species enjoys a resonance in indigenous cultures due to its startling beauty, though the grating vocalisations are discordant to the visual symphony of wings. Their pairing symbolises conjugal fidelity when viewed through the human prism of social and cultural mores, just as Sarus cranes. They are known as the “Surkhab” in Punjab, from which is derived the mocking, evocative idiom: “aapko surkhab ke par lage hain kyaa” (do you think you are unique?) Due to the colours evoking the saffron robes of a priest, the bird is known as the Jogi / Yogi bhhatiya in Rajasthan and Kesar pandia / Panda hansa in Orissa.
According to professor Gurpartap Singh, who traced the etymology of Chakva-Chakvi the commonest Hindi names for the pair: “The name, Chakravaak, is after the bird’s ‘a-oung’ call (variations exist) resembling the sound of a badly-greased wheel (chakkra / chakka) mounted on a wooden axle. Thus, it literally means, ‘calling like a wheel’. Over the ages, Chakravaak got shortened to Chakva or Chakkva.”
Due to the above aspects, these ducks liberate the painter’s brush, enchant the poetic eye and romantic imagination, and lend themselves to cultural curation, however discrepant that may be from the duck pair’s actual life. The naturalist and birdman, Salim Ali, wrote: “As Chakva-Chakvi, the duck has won immortality in popular folklore. Legend describes the bird as a pair of lovers torn apart by unkind fate, ceaselessly calling and answering each other in anguished tones.”
The duck featured in a cultural depiction of a timeless theme, the “terrified submission to power”. The 18th century Pahari artist, Nainsukh, painted a fierce, trained hawk pinning down, flat on its back, a duck. The hawk is depicted taking a beastly peck at the gentle neck with talons embedded deep, drawing first blood, and pressing her lower body into virtual breathlessness with merciless talons. The tremulous duck tries to cower under a lotus leaf, as if vainly seeking to shield modesty, but her legs are left clawing feebly at thin air and a slender, soft-feathered neck is tilted away in a last, waning resistance. The duck being no match for the hawk’s arrogant potency, the kill was foreordained, and the brutish hawk would tear her apart and savour her heart while she was still alive.
That was on the face of it, but as per Nainsukh’s inscription rendered in his hand on the painting’s back in chaste Braja and Pahari dialect, the artwork subtly symbolised the state of mind of a timid, young, newly-wed wife. She was caught in the brutal moment of an enjoinment of conjugal rights by a hawkish husband, who was ravenous, impatient, unsubtle and excruciating.
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