soliloquies of a footloose
crocs, in a sense, are a perfect faunal representation of the landscape of Chambal… there’s an overarching sense of the sedate punctuated by violent outbursts of activity… badlands – geography seeping into the society… serrations in the terrain and caste divides… law of the land that once caved in to dacoity, dregs of which still …
musings on Indian stone-curlew (Burhinus indicus), Chambal, Uttar Pradesh
‘twas perchance that we got to know of Chenap valley, which we did as our original plans went awry at the last moment… tucked in ‘twixt religious fervours, highways and hydropower more hedonistic that utilitarian, and the never-ending scrapes of JCB for last-mile connectivity, ‘tis purported to be a quieter alternative to Valley of Flowers, …
the wasp is villainous and the butterfly saintly… first impressions that hold true if one takes the black-and-white approach, but wander into the realms of grey, as natural processes often tend to do, and there is hardly any good or bad, seldom anything unconvoluted, and never anyone invincible… the immensity of these microcosms can be …
Musing on a Lychee shield bug (Chrysocoris stollii)
One can feel it… the humidity slowly but surely receding, the dry heat back for one more spell, sparring with what once used to be autumn before winter sets in… what the monsoons have contributed to the coffers of biodiversity will start waning out shortly, and those feasting upon it for the past few months …
The thing about limited means is that it ensures contentment, an amusing irony if you will… for all its glitzy advertorials, material abundance fails to guarantee a lasting gratification… that a majority of us are in the grip of its whirlpool despite most life philosophies advising otherwise is another matter, but the fact remains that …
monsoons bring their own unique romance to the mountains, neither comparable to the pure white vistas of winter nor quite like the salubriousness of spring or autumn… the summers preceding them are not really scorching but still do tend to get on one’s nerves that the rains pacify, beginning with the petrichor and then moving …
there are walks in the mountains while hiking that one underestimates, naïve enough not to pay heed to the illusions of a simple way up wild gorges… the day elongates proportionally with the trail, disaggregated into phases that seem like days unto themselves, each phase anchored to its own particular memory… there’s a brief period …