A Rant On What Our Society Has Become

Prologue:

I implore everyone to please read the entire piece.

I know the rant is huge, but so is the issue.Whether it be gangrapes, molestation, lewd comments, slut-shaming, demeaning group chats or jokes with belittling intention, they're all just dominoes of different sizes, being toppled everyday, cyclically.

Maybe as a man, I will never be able to understand enough what it is like to be in a woman's shoes in this world currently, but all I can do is try to spread the word, change a few mindsets, and suggest changes we can make within us and in people around us, so that no woman has to hesitate to live a basic, carefree life.

This is, paradoxically, a very carefully thought out rant, and I've tried to chronologically point out how we end up in a society where women are surrounded by threats and discomfort. Something abhorrent happens, we vow to change, we punish the perpetrators, we apologize to the victims, and then something equally horrible happens elsewhere; the cycle continues.

Let's #breakthecycle .

I would really appreciate your opinions, feedback, criticisms and even debates.

Chapter - 1 : Genesis

A child is born. A biological label emerges - boy, girl, others. However, it doesn't remain purely biological. If it's a boy, we hope he's strong and smart, so he'll be successful materialistically. If it's a girl, we hope she's attractive and maternal so that successful guys will pick her. If it's others, we lament and hope a 'normal' life is still possible.

As they grow up, we train them accordingly. Boys are encouraged to be physical in the way they interact with the world, to be strong, and take what they want. Girls are trained to be gentle and emotional in their approach, and give what others need. The ones who do not fit into these moulds, as obviously not everyone can, are ranked lower according to these very specific standards.

Puberty hits. Owing to biological wiring, the female hormonal cycle is adjusted according to when the uterus is at its optimum, to host and deliver the healthiest progeny. The male hormonal cycle is substantially more random and instantaneous, to be able to mate with any female if and when he is approved by them as the healthiest set of genes.

Children try to deal with these intimidating new experiences accordingly, but we end up suppressing their questions and quests, instead of explaining what is happening. This leads to misconceptions and assumptions, based purely on physical cues and Internet learning, targeted at biological instincts and profiteering.

Symmetrical facial features are physical markers for the absence of genetic defects. Bountiful breasts provide more immunity boosting milk for the infant in its crucial first year. Wide hips allow a bigger brain size in the child. A tall stature enables creatures to spot enemies from farther away. Fast, strong, muscular individuals are more adept at escaping, fighting or intimidating potential threats.

Despite our 'sophisticated' civilization, we end up rating people based on these criteria, in numbers of an extinct, ancient language. Children are confused because the way society functions does not match  how they want to act upon these feelings, so they create workarounds and complex social structures to get to the same goals. Those who can't survive in this structure become outcasts; the others cling to different rungs of an imaginary ladder.

Boys start internalizing that girls need to be chased. An attractive mate becomes a status symbol. Boys, being taught to be physical always, delve into competitive acts of affection or signalling interest, to win over the hottest girls. The lines between harmless communication and harassment get blurred.

Girls start internalizing that they will always be chased, and they need to select the right mate for a sustainable relationship. Movies and books solidify this one dimensional relationship between a boy and a girl, with encouragement to the boy to try harder, and to the girl to be gentle and understanding.

The kids are now older. Boys who are able to explore their sexuality with multiple partners and are biologically attractive are labeled studs; a term that takes on a positive connotation because we perceive more hardship and success in their chase - we label them the front runners of this race.

Girls who do the same are labeled sluts; we perceive them as trophies to be won, and no one values easy trophies. Since we've raised them to be emotional, we chastise their 'masculine' physical desires, which are natural to every human. 

The discrimination and shaming begins.

Chapter - 2 : Prognosis

They go out into the world as solitary, independent people, with this conditioning and stigma, labels and prejudices, and half confused sexualities and morals that are very loosely compartmentalized. Men try to take what they can, as is taught, flirting with the boundaries of decency and laws themselves. Women, thus, are on the defensive and in constant vigilance, being understandably hesitant to interact with male strangers. Those who aren't, are advised by other women and men in their life to be careful, and sometimes are chided for the same.

As an individual, the goal is to maximize and utilize our most positive and prominent attributes to get our share of resources in this competitive world; be it physical features, fashion, artistic talent, analytical ability, physical prowess or any combination of genetics and effort, equally worthy of admiration and free from judgement. However, with the gender specific social dogmas in place, physically attractive women face the brunt of extreme shaming and harassment, which scales proportionately with how far they stray from society's standards on how women should behave.

If a woman is a fashion icon or a fitness model, being bombarded with perverse comments or indecent requests becomes normalized; so much so that it becomes a way of life. This is a bad sign. Women who post pictures of themselves on social media or like to dress in a way that highlights their beauty face similar vitriol. Even if a woman stays at home all the time, close relatives can also pose a danger. This is DEFINITELY a bad sign.

We don't even mention the safety on the streets, and the perennial, exasperating need for a male companion in late nights. That has been internalized to an extent that there are no laws for prevention of sexual assault, or curbing of symptoms that can finally cascade in the same. All of that is left to individual judgement and safety measures.

What follows are hastily made over-compensatory laws, that are inherently prone to misuse and cause collateral damage, which further causes a rift between those who are grateful for some kind of protective measure, and those who have been unfortunate victims of it. After trying to put band-aids on a cancer, we shrug and tell men and women alike, here we are now. The damage is done; best of luck.

Chapter - 3 : Catharsis

As a man, based on my limited knowledge and experience, there's not much I can offer as advice to other men, but here I go.

The question remains - what can we do? As individuals, who have no control over the big picture, having been conditioned and forced into our roles and traits, what can we do? How can we reverse this social engineering, if we can?

1) Self-awareness:
Realize who you are. You're a messy, amalgamated result of natural forces and a complex civilization. It is natural to be horny randomly, it is natural to want to check out a woman you find attractive, it is natural to want to look at porn or have sex, it is natural to want to express to a woman that you find her attractive; women have their own versions of these feelings. No one can or should chastise or judge you for what you think about. Don't suppress your train of thought, it'll only exacerbate the problem.

Your ACTIONS, however, are a completely different story. Actions have consequences, and you'll never know when you've crossed the line. A positive source of affection can never go wrong. But all wrong doing comes from negative sources. If it is resentment, ego, animal lust or anger; just pause, and let rationality take over. Is it worth it? Are you willing to let another person or people have such a strong effect on you? Does your mind get so out of control that you're willing to emotionally and/or physically harm someone and justify it to yourself? And even if so, is it all for some vengeful satisfaction? Are there other sources of healthier pleasure, like your passions, hobbies or leisure time? And even if there is sexual angst, is there a way to vent it without hurting or discomforting someone?

2) Empathetic Awareness:
There is a vicious cycle of struggle and reward which we tend to follow. If we want something, we put whatever efforts we can to get it; if we fail, we either blame ourselves or the thing we want.

But people can't be treated as things; you can't keep trying harder and harder, and keep perceiving rejections as challenges. You can't resent people who do not give you rewards for your struggle. Nice guys can't be expecting reciprocation of their feelings just because they're upholding basic standards. Persistent guys can't be expecting a movie ending where the actress finally sees their good side and gives in. And if you're resentful about anything, try to process it yourself, before it comes out in unhealthy forms, like dehumanizing women in general and retaliating or lashing out with threats that are objectively inhuman.

3) Compartmentalization:
If a woman posts a glamorous photo, she's not asking for it. This is a frequently used statement, but not many people grasp it properly. Women ask for it, yes; but only when they ask for it. They compartmentalize their physical desires from their passions, hobbies, or just pastimes. We all post photos of ourselves, we all like it when we're appreciated - but it is not sexualized; similar to how when a musician or writer posts a little something they played or sang or wrote, they are also seeking attention and appreciation.

A simple analogy; the problem usually arises when we appreciate food not like chefs or artists, but like hungry animals who simply want to consume it. Hence, try to compartmentalize your physical desires, urges and hunger from the rest of you as a person.
There is no shame in masturbation, or watching porn occasionally to release that pent up tension. No one will judge you for it; it is only when we bother other people with our momentary surges of lust, that we screw up.

And finally, the most important aspect:

4) Apologize:
If you've done something horrible, or participated in something that has hurt people, or stood by and watched, own up to it. Don't be in denial; no one is the villain in their story, so it is important to read all stories - especially the ones in which you're the villain. No one is beyond redemption, and apologizing or admitting something doesn't mean you lose, it just means a fresh start. It is the hardest thing to do, but that is the only way to break the cycle. If you justify it, the problem only gets worse. The rift deepens, and the frustration builds. Men and women are NOT from different planets, and we're just a collection of traits and attributes that make us humans, with our genders being one of them. We're not our breasts, or asses, or abs, or butts, or height, or penises, or vaginas, and our actions or our lives should not be affected this deeply by them.

But if that's all we are, then we've successfully objectified ourselves.

Epilogue : FAQs

Q) What if we're not hurting anybody? If a group of boys are just discussing and rating girls, without anyone finding out, then who are we hurting?

A) The Locker Room problem; it spills out. It becomes part of the way we start looking at or evaluating women. That cascades into our behaviour with them, and moulds other guys who may not think that way, to start thinking and talking that way, because  of a weird peer pressure and being perceived as non-masculine. It's scientific; whatever you do frequently and intently, becomes muscle memory eventually.

Q) What about girls who manipulate guys and use them for their personal profit, misusing their love for them?

A) This phenomenon is not gender specific. Everybody manipulates everybody. Everybody wants some personal gain from everyone, all our relationships are based on mutual benefit. But still, chastising someone as a manipulative girl is different from calling them a manipulative person. Know the difference.

Q) What about Femi-Nazis? 

A) If there is someone who keeps over-correcting you and chastising you for all your statements and even the occasional, unintentional faux pas, you can choose not to keep their company. But do understand or try to empathize what they've seen or been through, and why they're biased against men in general. The simple concept is - if you assume someone's intentions based on their actions (eg asking for it, sexist jokes) then you can either get to know them better so you can understand their intentions, and try to separate them from their actions, or tell them that you suspect their intentions, and ask them to sod off. Then the choice is theirs, to either respect your feelings and act accordingly, or isolate themselves from you. Of course, everyone getting to know each other better and meeting halfway is ideal, but not very feasible.

Q) Are jokes fine?

A) Jokes are meant to make someone laugh, give someone a burst of joy, a respite from the tedium of everyday. Some jokes are meant to scandalize, which is a vicarious way to let out our deepest, darkest thoughts in a comic medium, to lighten the blow, and still be able to be comfortable with all kinds of topics, no matter how taboo or horrifying, that cross many human minds. Since jokes are made by people, a lot of jokes are also based on people, and hence, some specific jokes might hurt you. So, if you cherry pick on the topics that people around you cannot joke about, and if your group agrees, then all is good. If not, then you can choose your company accordingly.

The reason a lot more people are getting offended by jokes everyday is because technology gives us access to all types of groups, with all types of audiences. 

At the end of the day, the lesser people you hurt, the better.

The Counselors - Before The Hunt

Cover Page of The Counselors

Come hither, mighty cloud, I need to talk. 

Blue Letters. 

Words; changelings left by emotions in our mind, having taken our true thoughts to another place. Since when did sounds and strokes define our very soul? How do we change the world, fall in love, tell our stories, marvel at beauty? It's only words, and words are all we have. 

I'm standing at the top of a waterfall; the trills of the bountiful stream, and the deep hums of the rocks it battles with, is a symphony for my aria of thought. I have locked eyes with the clouds and the sky, and infinity is below me. I don't talk, or sing, or think. Words have run dry, but I do not try. 

How do we change the world, fall in love, tell our stories, marvel at beauty? Maybe it's when we run out of words. 

Have you ever walked in on your mind, dreaming up another one? 

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. 

Thoughts; demons and angels battling over microcosms and multiverses, embroiled in a silent storm that rages only in the most cryptic part of our existence. How do we know the universe, except through our minds? It is a tiny pond, that reflects the infinite sky. 

I'm standing at the top of a castle in the clouds, with only the wall and the edge visible above the infinite blue. I feel like an ephemeral thought in an infinite brain; but I know, the dreams I can dream are insane. 

Existence is a fractal. 

Where do I go to find you? 

The Man In The Mirror. 

Truths; chimeras, so out of reach, yet so intuitive. Duality has made us all fallen angels, stuck in limbo between right and wrong, not knowing that the truth is nothing but an unnamed song. So how do we live? What do we believe? Who do we answer to, when the curtain of reality is lifted? 

I'm sitting in the sanctum sanctorum of a stone temple, majestic yet compassionate. What is it about these places? Why do I feel that they're not trying to tell me the truth, but instead, that there's no need for one? 

We've collected a pile of rocks, and are waiting for God to come. 

Come with me on a midnight walk. 

Sky Full Of Stars. 

People; souls adrift, like shards of an asteroid in the evanescent meteor shower that is life, sharing a million journeys to one destination. We're all invariably connected, aren't we? Engulfing everyone in the webs we spin and the ripples we cause; inseparable in our loneliness. 

I'm sitting in a bus, its roar drowned out by our laughter and singing. The time, the destination, hunger, thirst, exhaustion; everything has faded into the rushing winds and landscapes. In that moment, we're all free; we're all out of the race. 

We're all sharing a drink called loneliness; but it's better than drinking alone. 

Begone, you darkness clinging… 

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is not. 

Sorrows; wounds cut deeper than the healing light can reach, hiding like shadows just underneath the fire. And as you burn brighter these shadows will loom larger; the only way they die is if the fire dies. 

I'm sitting under a moonless, starless night; feeling like nothing is right. I've been settling scores, chasing illusions, fighting for so long; spiralling in descending circles. I've realized, I'm not that strong. Is everything doomed to fade out, melt away; leaving nothing but emptiness? 

We're not who we are. 

They say that I know nothing of love. 

Binary Star. 

Love; the elusive force encompassing all of us, tainted, pure, intense, gentle; the invisible threads tying us together. How often have we pitifully tried to understand it, until we know it's beyond us? It is the Sun; shy away, and you're shrouded in darkness. Fly too close, and it melts your wings.

I look at her, she looks at me. I have my thunder, she has her storm. And together we shall transform, into tempestuous seas, always at war; into endless oceans, always at peace. 

Love, ah love, sweet, sullen soulmate.

I have held my heart in my hand, and am waiting for home to come. 

Square One. 

Home; is it a place, people, or just you? We've been searching for a piece of the universe to call our own, ever since we were born; somewhere we don't have to pretend, where we're untouched by the vagaries of the world, where things don't have to end. 

But all things do, don't they? The faces you call home now smile only in a grainy photograph, the tree in your backyard has succumbed to the urban expanse, the smell of your house has now faded, the swing is still swinging, now empty…So do you just find new places, new people, never get attached to anything, anyone? Once a wanderer, always lost. 

I have arrived, and am waiting for my heart to come. Once a wanderer, always home. 

The sky is vast, my child, and the wind is wild, but you are strong. 

First Flight. 

Actions; what dominoes we topple, what hurricanes we bring, with each flap of our every wing. We have less control than we think; and yet, much more to conquer than we dream. There are predators on the ground, storms on your path, the blazing sun and its razing wrath…but all that matters is you fly, and share your story with the boundless sky. 

I'm sitting with my thoughts and my happenings, pondering on what could have been. A tiny regret here and there, a twinge of remorse once or twice, a sense of failure now and then…but all that matters is what you do next, right now; everytime. No way but forward, right? 

You are nothing else but the rest of your life. 

These moments slip away like sand, as I grasp them with my failing hand. 

Musings. 

Memories; drawings in a flipbook, where we choose the pages to turn; half faded, half forgotten, and even the ones that remain are corrupted by who we are and what we choose to believe. But that's everything, right? All that matters is we hold on to them, for they are all that comfort you, in the spaces of your life. 

I'm swimming in a river, and the sun is setting right into the water. Each stream is a train of thought, now blazing with the dying light, on its way to be scattered away in the ocean of the night. I grab on to the water; but of course it slips away. All I take solace in, is that I'll meet it again some day. 

You are nothing else but the life you've lived. 

For in the end, all the love and laughter, anger and pain, 

Will all be in vain, 

Like tears in the rain… 

This book is a philosophical journey, through conversations - and a treasure hunt. It explores everything our lives are made up of; what happens to us, and what we do to ourselves. It was inspired by a cycling trip, and endless musings with restless minds. I hope some chapters resonate with yours as well, and we can find a tiny bit of counsel in each other someday. Do look out for a genre twist, and a teaser for the next book. 

2019. 30th March. Midnight.

Oasis

Prologue: Extending The Weekend

'Owing to the recent forest fires, Karnataka, Kerala and Tamil Nadu have imposed a ban on trekking. So, putting the Kumbakkarai to Kodaikanal trek on hold, we're thinking of going to Gokarna instead.'

'Finally,' Isha rolled her eyes. 'I'm in.' She'd been waiting for this since the Kumaraparvat trek.

'Finally,' Chetanya cheered. 'I'm in.' He'd been waiting for this since he'd missed out on Kodchadri.

The veterans cheered silently; a trip every month had become intertwined with their daily rigmarole.

The others didn't give two hoots.

Fortunately, March 30th was a holiday, owing to Good Friday.

'Not for me,' Radhika scowled. 'Keep it over the weekend, please.'

'Me neither.'

'Yeah, not everyone is as lucky as you JP Morgan people.'

'All right, all right,' I shielded myself from the digital blows. 'We leave Friday night, back by Sunday night. As always.'

I sulked for a bit. Good Friday was going to be in vain. Vedant came to my rescue, not long after.

'Listen, I'm renting out that amazing zoom lens; the one I used for Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary. Let's go to Turahalli forest and Bannerghatta butterfly park on Friday. I'll call Rachit too.' He messaged me.

And so, I found myself packing sandwiches and dry fruits on Thursday night, for our trip to the Oasis.

Chapter - 1 : Bus

I awoke for the 5 am bus to Banashankari TTMC, just like for Thottikallu Falls. The sky was the exact shade of black which turned navy blue on further inspection. I wore my shoes and made my way to Kundanahalli Gate, yawning the entire time. Getting up early never became easier; you just learnt not to cry about it.

My mind registered only snippets of the journey; the turn after A2B, the Kadubeesanahalli underpass, and the first ray of sunlight near Bangalore Central; like a sequence from Memento.

The bus blinked to a stop at Bellandur Petrol Bunk, where Vedant and Rachit boarded, with their equipment in tow. We looked like a documentary film crew.

'Pra,' they grinned.

'Pra,' I grinned back.

They settled down and took the bus passes. The sky was now humming a cerulean blue, and I hummed along; Iron Sky, by Paolo Nutini.

'And we’ll rise over love, and over hate...
Through this iron sky, that’s fast becoming our minds...
Over fear, and into freedom...
Into freedom...'

Chapter - 2 : Bird

At Banashankari, we changed the bus, taking the one that went to Raghuvanahalli. We passed the familiar early morning vegetable market on Kanakpura road, the produce looking fresh and fragrant without trick lighting or wax coating. Everything was better, early in the morning.

'Where are all these Photoshopped looking fine-ass vegetables in Bangalore? The suburbs are getting all the good stuff...' Vedant lamented.

'Yeah, I used to think South Indian coriander is yellow and lemons are green,' Rachit guffawed.

'Almost makes you want to be a vegetarian, huh?' Vedant winked at me.

'Hey, if you think about it, non-vegetarians are just vegetarians who also eat meat,' I chuckled.

The stop arrived, and we ran off, taking the right turn into the Turahalli village. Almost instantly, the sound of traffic ebbed away, the breeze blew cooler and harder, and the bucolic skyline germinated from the smog and concrete, like a butterfly from its chrysalis. 

We passed a dog daycare. It was a small, fenced playground, with all sorts of exotic breeds roughhousing and chasing each other. Rachit approached the fence, and almost every dog rushed to him, wagging their tails and jumping up at him.

'Dogs like him on sight.' Vedant chuckled.

'Or smell.' I walked up next to Rachit, and a Collie started pawing the fence, trying to get at my shoes. 'Actually, some even believe that dogs can sense who you are, deep down, and that's what they come running to.'

'Are you saying my soul smells like bones?' Rachit asked, and we all cracked up. 

'Hey, what's that?' I pointed to one of the telephone wires.

'Oh, man, that...looks a lot like...' Rachit squinted his eyes and went closer. 'Yep. I'm positive. That's a bird.'

Vedant was not amused.

The Indian robin (Copsychus fulicatus); female. They are commonly found in open scrub areas and often seen running along the ground or perching on low thorny shrubs and rocks. It is widespread in the Indian subcontinent, and ranges across Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Nepal, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka. The long tail is usually held up and the chestnut undertail coverts and dark body make them easily distinguishable from pied bushchats and oriental magpie robins. Local names include Nalanchi (Telugu), Wannatikuruvi (Tamil, Washerman bird), Kalchuri (Hindi) and Paan kiriththaa (Sinhala). 

Chapter - 3 : Butterfly

The forest was right on the path. The entry gate was wherever you decided to quit the road. We entered Turahalli forest through a small row of saplings - I had attended a plantation drive during my PS in Bangalore. There were still some plants from then, having grown just a couple of feet.

I looked over to the opposite side of the road, where the foundations for a building had already been laid, with a few floors already underway, their iron skeletons sticking out threateningly. It had been a natural grove, just last year. Concrete grew much faster than plants. 

We trekked our way to the nearest trail, keeping an eye out for any life apart from us. A glossy sunbird parkoured between a few plants and hopped out of existence. I stalked it for a while, when suddenly, something else caught my eye. 

'Rachit, there's a huge butterfly, on that flower. Can you get it?' 

'I'll call Vedant. His camera is better.' 

Vedant came running quietly. He waited for it to settle, and pounced. Its beautiful red and black tessellations on its hindquarters were clearly visible.

Pachliopta hector, the crimson rose, is a large swallowtail butterfly belonging to the genus Pachliopta (roses) of the red-bodied swallowtails. It is found in India and Sri Lanka and possibly the coast of western Myanmar. In India, it is found in the Western Ghats, southern India (Kerala), eastern India (West Bengal and Odisha). It is a straggler in the Andaman Islands. The crimson rose is very fond of flowers, especially Lantana. Nectar appears to be essential for the butterfly and a higher nectar intake is thought to increase egg production. The red body, slow peculiar flight, bright colouration and pattern of the wings are meant to indicate to predators that this butterfly is inedible. The most striking aspect of the butterfly's behaviour is its strong migratory tendencies. During the peak of its season, several thousand crimson roses can be found congregating, and then they begin migrating to other areas.

'I have a feeling today is going to be priceless.' Vedant grinned, while we all gushed over the photo. 

Chapter - 4 : Burrow

With renewed vigor, we made our way upwards, following the trail to the highest point. I had to improvise because of our off trail fauna hunts, which led to a lot of scratches from brambles and thorny leaves.

'You're going to kill me even before the Gokarna trek,' Vedant yelped, dodging sharp sticks and pushing away thorny branches gingerly. 

'Are other trips with Danish like this too?' Rachit whispered, scratching his bare legs and giving himself rashes where the brambles hadn't.

'This, stretched over two days,' Vedant winked at him. 'Want to come for the next one?'

'Absolutely.'

We circled a large rock, following a peahen that was strutting about. Rachit crept towards it like a creepy uncle at spring break, but the peahen still had its untamed instincts left. I remembered the peacocks of Pilani, whom you could just pat on the head. Rachit disappeared for a while; probably having found his own subject.

'Vedant, you need to get here asap. There are three woodpeckers drilling into that deadwood.' I turned around and whispered.

'Jesus, hold them or something. I'm coming, goddamn it.' He fumbled with his camera, and stumbled into the clearing, positioning himself for the perfect shot. The parents had flown away by then, but the juvenile was still pecking; with short, erratic, untrained bursts. Vedant lost no time.

The white-naped woodpecker (Chrysocolaptes festivus); juvenile, female. It is a flameback woodpecker which is a widespread but scarce breeder in the Indian Subcontinent. Like other woodpeckers, this species has a straight pointed bill, a stiff tail to provide support against tree trunks, and zygodactyl or “yoked" feet, with two toes pointing forward, and two backward. The long tongue can dart forward to capture insects. The adult male white-naped woodpecker has a red crown and females have a yellow crown. Young birds are colored like the female, but duller.


Rachit was more interested in the little trinkets of beauty surrounding him. Once every few minutes, he would kneel to the ground to frame an interesting composition, or thrust the camera into a thicket of trees to capture its solitude.

A catacomb-ish cobweb took my fancy. I hummed Arriving Somewhere But Not Here by Porcupine Tree, as I stared into its silvery tendrils, the delicate fabric reminding me how precariously the universe was held together.

'All my designs, simplified...
And all of my plans, compromised...
And all of my dreams, sacrificed...'

Chapter - 5 : Bustle

'All right man, time out.' Rachit slapped his hands on my shoulders. 'Let's have a picnic.'

We chose a rock with the right mix of the view of the skyline, and the bushes for avian activity. Little did we realize, we were right in the centre of an amphitheater, and the birds were the audience. 

It all started with a shy little Prinia, hiding in plain sight. It cocked its head sideways at us, as if judging our species. Well, we had it coming.

The plain prinia, or the white-browed wren-warbler (Prinia inornata) is a small warbler in the Cisticolidae family. It is a resident breeder from Pakistan and India to south China and southeast Asia. This skulking passerine bird is typically found in wet lowland grassland, open woodland, scrub and sometimes gardens. The sexes are identical. In winter, the upperparts are a warmer brown, and the underparts more buff. The tail is longer than in summer. There are a number of races differing in plumage shade. The endemic race in Sri Lanka retains summer plumage, including the shorter tail, all year round. Like most warblers, the plain prinia is insectivorous. The song is a repetitive tlee-tlee-tlee.

'Seriously,' Vedant muttered, putting his camera away. 'If the animals and birds all got sentient and realized what we're doing, they would maim us in our sleep.' I guess he was thinking the same thing. 

A group of oriental white-eyes flitted about behind us, as we munched on chips and biscuits, and chana (black gram). 'Oh man, I've been waiting to get one of these,' Vedant mumbled through his morsel and got up, stepping stealthily off the rock and into the thicket.

He came visibly elated, although the photo wasn't very clear. 'The composition is beautiful, though,' he said, and proceeded to chase a red-whiskered bulbul that was perched at an impossibly lucky location.

'So clear,' Vedant came back, wiping fake tears.    

The tempered, anxious calls of the brain-fever bird rang through the forest, and it came into view, alighting on a branch, scanning the entire panorama without moving its body.

The common hawk-cuckoo (Hierococcyx varius), popularly known as the brainfever bird, is a medium-sized cuckoo resident in the Indian subcontinent. It bears a close resemblance to the Shikra, even in its style of flying and landing on a perch. The resemblance to hawks gives this group the generic name of hawk-cuckoo and like many other cuckoos these are brood parasites, laying their eggs in nests of babblers. During their breeding season in summer males produce loud, repetitive three note calls that are well-rendered as 'brain-fever', the second note being longer and higher pitched. These notes rise to a crescendo before ending abruptly and repeat after a few minutes. Other interpretations of the bird call include peea kahan in Hindi ('where's my love') or chokh gelo (in Bengali, 'my eyes are gone') and paos ala (Marathi, 'the rains are coming').

'Worth it,' Vedant declared, stowing away his camera, and we sat back down to finish our picnic. 

Chapter - 6 : Bee

'There's something really tiny, returning again and again to that flower,' I pointed straight, at the first tree that marked the end of the skyline. 'Looks like a bumblebee, but the colours are off.'

'Hmm,' Vedant peered closely, and Rachit took a few steps away - he was apprehensive of a bee sting. 'It's moving too fast, but I'm going to try.'

Next thing we knew, Vedant was anchoring the camera on my shoulders as I stood as still as possible. The bee returned to the exact same spot after every loop, and stayed for a fleeting moment before executing another. It looked like it was courting the flower. We all held our breaths, and Vedant waited for the perfect time to click, like a game of V-Cop.

'Got it!' Vedant cheered jubilantly.

Xylocopa varipuncta, the valley carpenter bee. A distinguishing characteristic that uniquely separates them from other species of bees is their ability to thermoregulate. This allows them to fly at very high temperatures without overheating and at low temperatures without freezing. By modifying their foraging patterns and flying between different altitudes depending upon temperature, the valley carpenter bee is able to adapt to very different environments through predisposed behavioral patterns. Carpenter bees are notorious for damaging man-made wooden structures, lead cables, fiberglass insulation, and Styrofoam. However, they are essential due to their pollination ability of various species of flowers. Their large body size makes them the natural pollinators of large flowers such as Passiflora and Luffa species and of other fruits and vegetables.


'My God. I can see its dreams,' I said, as Vedant zoomed further in. 'What is this lens?'

'Nat Geo level, right? The goal is to save up enough to buy this - and a kick-ass macro lens too.' Vedant mused. 'Then I can start sending photos to the big-shots in nature photography.'

'My God. I can see its dreams,' Rachit said, looking into Vedant's eyes. We all laughed.

Chapter - 7 : Bob    

'This is actually a good time for lizards too,' Vedant muttered, as I ambled around, making small jumps and trying basic calisthenic exercises on the rocks, chewing the last of my chana. 'We should keep an eye on the undersides of rocks or small crevices.'

Rachit was busy chasing the peahen that had re-emerged from the forest below. We all scattered for a while, finding our own chimeras to chase in the forest.

A lizard scurried right in front of me, coming to an abrupt stop at the edge of the rock. I had no idea how to tell the others - fortunately, Rachit had arrived, bringing Vedant along.

The common side-blotched lizard (Uta stansburiana). It is notable for having a unique form of polymorphism wherein each of the three different male morphs utilizes a different strategy in acquiring mates by a rock-paper-scissors mechanism of frequency-dependent sexual selection. Orange-throated males are "ultradominant." They are the largest and most aggressive morph, keeping harems of females with which they mate. They are adept at stealing mates from blue-throated individuals, but are vulnerable to cuckoldry by the yellow-throated female mimics. Blue-throated males are "dominant". They are intermediate in size, and guard smaller territories containing only a single female. As they only have one mate to defend, they are better at catching yellow-throated sneaks, but are also susceptible to having their mates stolen by the larger, more aggressive orange-throated males. Yellow-throated males are “sneakers”. Their coloration is similar to that of sexually mature females, and they typically mimic female “rejection” displays when they encounter dominant orange- or blue-throated males. They rely on their mimicry to sneak matings with unattended females. This is more easily achieved among the harems kept by orange-throated males than by the single, closely guarded mate of the blue-throated males.


'That camouflage is insane - how does evolution do this randomly? Genes must be able to see or something; it can't be one lucky guy who just happened to have these colours, and that's the one that survived - right?' Vedant asked, to no one in particular. My mind flashed back to the exact same discussion that me and Shankar had had; frequently.

'Okay, I've never seen that before.' I pointed to a red, black and yellow lizard, crawling on the underside of a boulder, defying gravity casually. Vedant lay prostrate, hanging from the side, trying to get face to face with it. 'Come on, please look at me,' he muttered quietly.

'Nice pick-up line,' I murmured, and Rachit sniggered.

The Peninsular rock agama (Psammophilus dorsalis); male and female. It is a common species of agama found on rocky hills in south India. Males bask openly on exposed rocks and show head push-up displays. The larger males take up higher perch positions. They flatten their bodies when birds fly overhead. Young and females are olive-brown, spotted, speckled, or marbled with dark brown, and with a series of white, elongated spots along each side of the back. The male has pale brownish colour on the top of the head and back, while the lips are yellowish-brown, and this extends as a strip beyond the ear. A dark brown or black lateral stripe begins behind the eye and broadens to cover the lower sides. The underside is yellow with the throat mottled with grey.



Suddenly, it raced up the rock, and revealed its full self, perching two feet from us, and bobbing its head furiously.

'Lizard push-ups,' I observed. 'There's probably a female or a male threat nearby.'

'Everywhere,' Rachit groaned, slapping his head. 'Probably the one universal rule that still holds, no matter how much we progress - if there are females around, the males will make fools of themselves.'

We all chuckled. The sunlight had grown harsher, and late morning was upon us. It was time to head back.

'This is the trail that goes down. Well, actually every path from here goes down.' I told them, picking up my bag and setting off.

'Metaphor for life?' Vedant asked me, grinning.

I laughed and clapped him on his back. 'Parag would be proud.'

'How pleasant, bobbing along,
Bobbing along on the bottom,
Of the beautiful briny sea...
What a chance,
To get a better peep,
At the plants,
And creatures of the deep...'

Chapter - 8 : Broken

We made our way in the sun, hunger hitting us hard now. We were probably the only ones in the forest. Only a lone kite loomed overhead, keeping an eye out for lunch.

I spotted a small stick-like formation, which appeared to be moving, weakly. It was a stick insect, with a broken leg. I held it delicately, while the others stared. I didn't know whether to put it out of its misery or leave it alone.

'Let it be,' Rachit echoed my thoughts. 'Insects recover from worse.' I nodded and put it down. I couldn't help wondering if I would be able to get over a missing limb, or even a broken leg; how often we take our bodies for granted.

Rachit stopped to examine a tattered cobweb, and I looked around at the flowering plants; their colors bleached by months of sun. Everyone was waiting for the rain.

I saw a few more butterflies - some familiar, some new. Vedant spotted a really exotic dragonfly. It looked like one of its wings was broken - as it turned out, astonishingly, only half of its wing was transparent.

Rhyothemis variegata, known as the common picture wing or variegated flutterer, is a species of dragonfly of the family Libellulidae, found in South Asia. It breeds in marshes, ponds and paddy fields. They appear to have weak flight and can easily be mistaken for butterflies.


We came upon the main trail, the one that exited near Sobha Forest View. I said my last goodbye to the forest, and walked with Vedant and Rachit into the city.

Chapter - 9 : Back

'Look! Food!' Rachit pointed crazily. 'And we're the only customers.'

We floated towards it, carried by the fragrance of fresh vadais and idlis. It looked like a Disney cartoon clip. 

The food was fresh and cheap. Vedant smiled elatedly, and I knew he was reminiscing the idli-vada massacre of the Bandaje Falls trek.

We had coconut water just a little up ahead, the standard cool-down drink. Rachit was almost going to pour it all over himself, like the Slice Aamsutra ad - except this couldn't really be televised. 

'Pra, we're going to Bannerghatta now?' Vedant asked, back in the shutterbug zone. 

'Yeah.' I turned to Rachit. 'You coming?' 

'Nah, I'll head back; but tell me about the next trek; I'm coming for sure.' He nodded furiously. 'I need to upgrade my weekends.' 

A bus that would drop us at the Kanakpura junction appeared. Rachit would ride it all the way to Hebbal, while we would take the one that went to Bannerghatta, at the junction. 

We boarded, and the last reminder of the forest was an oriental magpie-robin, staring at us from a telephone wire. 

Chapter - 10 : Bannerghatta 

'Well, Bannerghatta was a let-down,' Vedant grumbled, as we sat in the bus back to Banashankari from the zoo. 'We saw more butterfly varieties at Gulakamale Lake.'

'Hmm, the butterfly park is the best feature of this place. No one recommends the safari anyway.' We pored over the pictures. 'The butterflies were good, though?'

'Well, yes.' Vedant gave in. 'Wouldn't call it a waste.'

We took the bus that went to Kundanahalli Gate, from Banashankari. Vedant would get off at Bellandur. We both dozed off, waking only at the Sarjapur junction.

'When does the bus leave?' Vedant drawled lethargically, referring to the Gokarna trip which was starting tonight.

'8 o clock. It's Friday night though, so relax. It's going to be a long journey; and then if we get out of Bangalore, a slightly shorter one.' I chuckled back.

He grinned and went to the front, getting off at Bellandur. As the bus roared off, a blue Tiger butterfly fluttered near the window momentarily, as if bidding me farewell, and returned to whichever oasis it had come from.


'It doesn't matter what you want, 
As long as you keep moving on, 
A bird, a bee, a flower, a tree, 
A job, a peak, whatever you seek, 
A view, a dish, whatever you wish,
A stage, a song; just come along, 
A walk, a chat, or this or that, 
Or maybe love, or the One above... 

So stop chasing your fickle mind, 
And come, this endless world awaits, 
I know, infinity scares us all, 
But better to die with a fleeting glimpse, 
Of the Oasis we're looking for... 

So stop chasing your fickle mind, 
Yes, better to die chasing a mirage, 
The Oasis we're looking for. 
For the mind is but a naughty child, 
That keeps running in circles...'


Photos, courtesy of Vedant Sapra and Rachit Kumar.


Vedant's YouTube Channel : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_-wTP-OKAF6HskDOqSeREw
Vedant's Instagram Page : https://www.instagram.com/vedantsapra/

Epilogue : Less Is More

'Sir, I'll be there in less than one hour. There's some accident here on the KR Puram road, so there's a jam. I'll call when I'm at Marathahalli Bridge.' The driver wailed and cut the call. 

The bus was supposed to be at my place at 8. It was 9 already, and people had started grumbling. There had been unprecedented rains too, so traffic was even slower than usual.

'What's the ETA for marathahalli bridge?' 

'We should call redbus and blast them for this delay.'

'Should we all get together and board at one point?' 

'What are the revised pickup points with timing?' 

'Is it okay if I change my boarding from marathahalli to yeshwantpur?' 

'Where is that army hospital again?' 

'It's raining. I'll be late by half an hour at least.'

I finished the last of my packing and smiled. This was going to be fun.