This week, I wrapped up my first-ever birding exhibition and talk—five years of birding, all packed into one week at Courtyard Koota titled Flight Path. And, I’m still not sure what surprised me more: the number of species I’ve spotted so far… or the number of people who showed up to hear about it.
From the very beginning, this wasn’t just a display of bird photos—it was a glimpse into a rather accidental obsession. What started with misidentifying a sunbird (a rite of passage, really) turned into a week-long celebration of feathers, field notes, and funny stories.
Huge thanks to Courtyard Koota for being the perfect venue. The space has always had a way of bringing stories to life, and this time it gave wings (ahem!) to mine.
To Sreedevi—who planned this whole thing with the kind of precision usually reserved for migratory patterns—thank you. You were the reason this exhibition happened at all, and the reason I didn’t run off into the bushes mid-plan.
And to my brilliant crew of exhibition ninjas from Valley School—Karuna, Durga, and Dheeran—you didn’t just help me set up the show, you made the chaos fun. Special shoutout to one of you who sounds exactly like the Scops Owl. You know who you are.
The exhibition included not just my best photographs, but also a bird call corner, a birding hotspot map, and memory card games (because who says education can’t be a bit competitive?). The talk itself was a journey through awkward beginnings, gear regrets, accidental brilliance, and the occasional bird calls to break the monotony.
I kept it funny (way too much stand-up influence), mostly factual, and occasionally philosophical—but always feathered with the hope that someone in the audience would leave thinking: “Maybe I should try birding.”
If you were there—thank you for coming, for engaging, for asking questions, and for spotting species I didn’t even know were in my prints. If you missed it, hope the photos give you a glimpse of this incredible week. They’re not all birds, but they’re part of this story now.
Here’s to more walks, clicks, and moments when a blur in the trees turns into a frame on the wall.
