Of People and Places

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, s...

On the road to Thirthahalli from Shimoga, the beautiful Tunga river meanders along, its green water rippling gently in the stillness. We stop a little way further from the Sakkarebayalu elephant camp to get a closer look at the trees that float in the calm waters.   On the other side are dark woods that tower over us – true children of the rainforests around Agumbe. There is a  path among these woods I want to explore, but we are short of time. It is dusk and all colors are merging into shades of violet, umber and grey.   There is a little light reflected in the small clearing at the end of the path and the dense trees that surround it make it look like a halo. And from this clearing comes a man in a bicycle. It is a charming picture and one I hope to be able to put down on paper some day. The tangle of roots from the swamp makes for interesting shapes. There is one that looks like it is raising its arms to the sky.   They may look spooky in the night. A...