A spaced-in conversation.


Two baboons engage in hierarchical inquiry and come to a curious crossroads about orientation.


A chat in a tent leads to a startling realisation about aloneness.


My perch in the tree-house creaked. I sat heavily on my feeble rump, feeling in every breath the pangs of a bereaved man. “Old Hag knows the cause of your melancholy,” said Old Hag, who, turning around I noticed, was seated legs folded, roughly two feet off the floor in thin ether. “But let me…

The Search

  When the beads of her thirst turn into pearls of percipience, and she befriends the unknown; When the morn dawns early and she ventures forth bravely through the cold and the dark with nothing more than trust in her path, and no more the false hope of sweet fruit;When the stubborn fog of her…


I knew that at the end of every dark night there was a radiant morning, and all that, but this was an exceptionally exquisite one last winter in Kanha. And yet, in a moment, it’d be gone, the rising sun washing away the scene like writings on the beach are purged by the evening tide….

The Prima Donna

Thus stood the prima donna, enlightening the soul. I had heard a lot about her from Old Hag. But it was the instant the prima donna broke into reality from the dreamworld of the thicket with quicksilver dazzle, like an exquisite flower had dropped from a mystical tree, that I fell in love with her….

Portfolio of a Princess

A Green-Carpet Welcome: When all hope was lost and chances seemed thinner than a shoestring, against all odds emerged from the woods this precocious girl of incredible audacity, crossed between a crowd of vehicles and walked out into the open where an exalted crowd of stunned onlookers gave her a rapturous green-carpet welcome on the…

Trick Boxing

In contrast to the glamorous sports of the human world, which erect stardom, fuel passions and ignite effigies, break backs with frayed tempers, weld relationships and engender scandals, halt countries and drive lucre under cobwebbed wooden tables, there is in this much pecuniary labyrinth yet a sport that is untouched by the wand of fame…

Reverie at Tea

“Chug chug” rumbles the train. “Cluck cluck” protest the rails as the heavy wheels roll on them. “Right-ho, Jeeves” lies open beside. All is dark. There is a gentle zephyr. Restful. Nice, cool. There is a lull. Then there is light. Not bright, dim. Soothing, not intrusive. Somewhere in a forest. A bunch of stripes…