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…
Tag: Tiger
A ‘Boaring’ Digression
One late morning at Sukha Talab, the Pateeha female, having watered herself and her two girls, had risen to a stately squat, ready for departure, when one of the cubs’ attention was diverted by a sound. On the firm conviction that it behoved him to investigate, the cub walked away from the water and positioned…
A Tiger’s Way
The wheels rolled into Rajbehra one searing afternoon, and we learned that one of the Jhurjhura cubs had taken throne on a rocky outcrop behind the dam. As I sat in brief contemplation, the following advisement from an eminent photographer cracked the silence at its seams: “Kaunsa lens hai tere paas, bhai? 300 hai, na?…
Portrait of a Lass
A rejuvenating shower reduced the summer blaze to a simmer. When the sky had run dry of cold tears, a freshness had flowered. A grey francolin, drinking its nectar, stood on a log calling oft, as though, through a broadcast of the pleasant status quo, inviting all parties concerned to partake of the toast. A…
10 Years of Tigging
This day in 2006 I was on my way back from my maiden trip to central India. A few days before, with a bunch of friends and an eyeful of dreams inspired by documentaries, I had stepped into Kanha Tiger Reserve, and got my first tiger photograph. It was a collared tigress resting in the…
A Tale of Two Stars
It was late afternoon when Star assumed a seat by the lakeside, and despite the fire in the sky, it seemed to get brighter by his presence, and the howling dry wind, just a little warmer. The day was longer because of his lingering, yet time verily shorter. Light had slowed to the speed of…
The Black Star
In a wilderness in northwestern India, much closer than the sun, lives a star. He was born nine years ago not from a supernova, but his parents’ ‘Jeans instability’. Every morning he rises – to the occasion. And every evening he sets – the stage on fire. In between, he births new stars. Without dying….
Lines on Water
There was a veneer of grass on the forest canvas, and it was ruffled now by the hot wind, as though tousled by a dragon’s breath. The earth heaved as the sun drank from the lake, like a giant sucking honeydew off a dying man’s plate. A mirage had centre stage. I sat watching the…
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…
Watcher on the Wall
Between the banks of night and day, she stands gazing at the undual, still in the flow. Seasons come and phases lapse, but her vigil flies aloft. It reaches beyond man, beast and plant, and touches the source of all.But she’s not a hoarder of beliefs, collector of memories or weaver of dreams. She’s…
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….
Revelations in the Dark
I’m the water for which you thirst, the fire in which you burn, and the air that fans it. I’m the quiver of your lips, the throb in your belly, the blood in your cheeks and the stutter on your tongue.I’m your frown of frustration and squeal of delight.I’m the spring in your step, the…
The Heart’s Eye
Two gleaming gems. Like polished marbles from the Welkin’s riverbeds. By day they hide, at noon they rest, and by night they glow in the lonesome bight. Yet, by morning they’re gone, set with the moon, down horizons unknown. Sparks from tinder, brilliant but short, fanned by the wind. How bright they glow! How bright!…
The River Tigers
The ‘River Tigers’: The Mirchani female and her male cubs at Damnar Their gleaming eyes haunt the lonesome night, cutting like fire lanterns through the dark and balking at owls screeching to a silvery moon. Only stars bear witness to their opulent jaunt. By morning they snake back to their mythical abodes through bushes that…
TIGGA TALES 