In the morning of June 11, if any birder in the field noticed a sudden drop in chirps verging on stillness, let them know that these birds sensed an instinctive snapping of a tie, the departure of a soul that sought to understand them selflessly. Not to make it to scientific journals and put on learned airs; nor to engage in social-media engagement farming. In their world, he discovered his own, one devoid of artificiality and filled with effortless comfort.

That morning, V. Guruswami departed for another sanctuary. A long life (he was 95), one spent with a great degree of autonomy (he bounced back to full health after a stroke in the fag end of 2011 and was in fine fettle till the last week of his life) is certainly a measure of blessing. But what was truly Guruswami’s blessing was his ability to bless others with his knowledge, unconditionally without expecting anything in return. He leaves behind a flock of friends (nay, more admirers than friends) at Madras Naturalists Society, a repository of local naturalist wisdom. But anyone who has known him beyond birding field visits would instantly resist the temptation to pigeonhole him into the identity of a naturalist-birder.

The breadth of his knowledge was indisputably vast. To give an inkling, he could hold forth on the legendary kite flyers of Madras in the 1940s and in the same breath share the contents of his correspondence with Jim Corbett. He was rooted locally, deeply connected with the twin jheels (Manali and Madhavaram) as well as the verdant Simpson Estate in Sembium (all of them close to his former address in Thiru-Vi-Ka Nagar), but he had a global consciousness, always sharpened by a desire for knowledge, again not acquired for self-aggrandisement but to freely share with others.

His curriculum vitae would indirectly reveal how he went out of his way mining for knowledge in various fields.

“Guruswami was born on September 25, 1930, studied at CSI Kellet Higher Secondary School in Triplicane and graduated with a chemistry degree from Presidency College, Madras. He started working with the Ordinance Factory at Khamaria, Jabalpur, later moved to Addison Paints at the Simpson Estate in Sembium where he joined as a chemist and retired as a production manager.”

That note is oddly familiar; one comes across that kind of a bio all the time; only that this one is silent on an extra universe of pursuits. Silent on reams and reams on the koel vocalisation, listening in to the male koel’s plaintive calls during the breeding season, year after year. 

Silent on the incredible conservation story at the Simpson Estate, where he helped protect a heronry. Silent on the trends of various bird species he had documented and shared with journalists including this reporter. And silent on the numerous notes on the drift of things in various other fields he had penned, just for his delectation and those known to him. Unfortunately, much of this information was lost in the shifting of addresses. When he was advanced in years (in the early 2010s after his almost-magical recovery from the stroke) Guruswami and three other seniors in the family took the decision to move from Thiru-Vi-Ka Nagar to a senior-friendly block of an apartment in Sholinganallur with the support of the younger relatives in the family. Guruswami remained unmarried, and enjoyed a deep connection with his family, immediate and extended, and he was the favourite uncle and grandpa, no contests there. 

And it was in this space on June 11, Guruswami breathed his last, nay, let out his last chirp, not far from the Pallikaranai marsh synonymous with winged residents and visitors.