Of People and Places

Fantastic beasts and where to find them – In your own backyard There are fantastic beasts in our own backyards! This is what I learn at   Bannerghatta’s badger, A science research and education field station at ‘Big Barn’ farmhouse in Kesserguppe village, right next to the Bannerghatta national park. The field station runs projects in partnership with the government of Karnataka, Asian Nature Conservation foundation and   A Rocha India , jointly working towards resolving human – animal conflict, particularly to   ensure conservation of Asian elephants which thrive in this region. Roshan, a young man who volunteers here after college hours guides us. I am on a visit here thanks to Pencil Jammers , a community of artists and art – lovers, that organizes sketching events on weekends in Bangalore. This time, it is all about understanding the elephant and its ecosystem. Roshan calls the elephant the ‘sumo ninja’ or ‘the bandit of the night’ because of the sneaky wa

The roads to Camp 4 are lined with Prayer flags fluttering in the wind. Old, tattered, new, bright, faded; all kinds surround the trees, the electric poles, backyards and fences. It is a sultry afternoon in April, and a cuckoo calls out for rain with longing. Rows of Silver Oak trees flank the roads and narrow streets and the bougainvillea are in full bloom. Across the Paljor Dhargey Ling guest house where we are to stay is a vast open space, leading to narrower gullies. Camp 4 is a quaint place.  There are monks in maroon robes and yellow shirts walking on the streets and  old women with colorful banded aprons, clutching prayer beads.  Located to the west of Mysore in Coorg in Karnataka, Bylakuppe has been the home of Tibetan refugees since 1960 after the Chinese Occupation of their country led to a life in exile. After Dharamshala in Himachal Pradesh, the camps near Bylakuppe represent the second largest Tibetan settlements in India. Murky as the path to this quaint Karnata

It was pitch dark outside. From time to time, she peered out hoping that my father would be home soon. Summers in Koppa meant power cuts and power cuts meant letting in the deep darkness of the jungle inside the house. The noises outside became louder as the night wore on. Strange shadows lurked in places the candlelight couldn't reach.  The crickets let out their call. The silence that descends heavily and suddenly at night in the villages surrounded the house. Unlike Mumbai, where silence is a chimera and darkness is a mere memory of the womb. Moths flickered around the candlelight. She tried to go back to reading her book, but all she could think of was her fear. The fear that gripped her every evening, until my father's bike could be heard from the distance, its powerful sound announcing him before he had reached the village. She always kept a heavy stick and a powerful hunting torch close to her in the evenings. Outside, very close to the door, she heard howls.

I grew up with Swami. If it weren't for the fact that fiction renders you immortal, he would be 85 years old  now.  Since my childhood, I have read, reread and still read Swami and friends, still laugh at his follies and still relate to all the stupid things that he does. He is a reflection of what I was as a child -a shy, average kid easily impressed and easily frightened.  Unlike most fictional characters, he is no hero. He is not exceptional in any way and perhaps that is how R K Narayan works his magic on kids, by making Swami just as goofy, just as mischievous as you or me.  This is one of my favourite passages in the book ( Excerpt from ' What's a tail?')  - "Swaminathan was loitering in the compound. He heard familiar voices behind, turned round, and saw Somu, Sankar, and the Pea, following him. Swaminathan wondered whether to stop and join them, or wait till they had passed and then go in the opposite direction. For it was awkward to be cons