Sahyadrica

I need no call of clamant bell that rings iron-tongued in the towers of earthly kings. -          Mettanyë by J. R. R. Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales Part I Deep in the woodlands of Konkan, there are areas reigned by a particular creature: the forest floor, the leaves and the tree trunk, are booming with a frenzy of this small, nimble-footed, bright yellow-coloured insect carrying a lethal spray-gun of formic acid. It is called Anoplolepis gracilipes , and is more commonly referred as the Yellow Crazy Ant. This story is about these ants, on what they mean to be in India’s forests (more specifically northern Western Ghats), and forms a prelude to a larger story which has not been enacted in India yet, but has been and has lead to drastic changes in landscapes in several parts of the world. On a clear winter morning, a Yellow Crazy Ant ( Anoplolepis gracilipes ) and aphids Nagla Block, Sanjay Gandhi National Park, 2012 Taxonomically,...

The stone giants had put up a show by playing under the pre-monsoon showers of June the Second. A car had fallen prey to their nasty games. As we passed by its wreckage, staring at the giant sitting with his head in his hands, his hands on his bent leg, his large feet by the wreckage, sent shivers down my spine – it was awesome. Only a day ago I was roaming the hot and humid forests of Phansad Wildlife Sanctuary. We passed through blinding rains twinkling for a few seconds by lightening; silhouetting the somber figure of the stone giant from whose feet we turned left around the edge of Parsik hills range. If you follow this range down south, you will reach Panvel Creek as it pours into the Arabian Sea. The range continues as small hillocks as it spreads as Karnala Bird Sanctuary. South of this sanctuary, the range again breaks into small hillocks, several villages, towns, and roads crisscross this terrain, until, a little to the west – and closer to the sea – lie the typical coas...

This article contains material written on trips made in the months of February to May. However, the events are not represented in a chronological order, but as per the flow of the article. May 26. No one – man or woman – feels an angel when the hot weather is approaching . This year when we were enjoying the coldest February (8 degrees C), the temperatures abruptly rose to 39C on the 27 th of the same month. Such heat-waves are rather infamous in this coastal city, though, and are never welcomed. Yet if you wander away from the urban desert – concreted and paved, harsh on the eyes, burning your soles, and ideal for heat-strokes, you will find the summer angel that Rudyard Kipling only briefly mentioned in the classic Plain Tales from the Hills. I went in search of the angel this summer, and found that she really dwells everywhere in the subtleties of life. If you‘ve ever felt the calm and coolness provided by a tree in the corner of the street, or felt an ethereal breath...