Mili, The Cat.

Sometimes, I can see the resemblance between Panthera and Felis.

Elephanta reveries

Fulvous fruit bats inside the Elephanta caves. 

An Ecology Project To Remember

About two months ago, as part of an ecology project from college, three friends and I decided to hunt for bats in and around the city instead of studying water samples from dirty rivers in our labs. Our professor was thrilled to know we wanted to do field work and we were given the green signal as soon as we proposed our idea. Together, we ended up having an absolute blast and, not to mention, professorial appreciation.

Now, Teental has always been very non-academic in its approach, but this doesn't count as scientific jargon. Below are excerpts from the paper I wrote based on our project- for I feel people should know about how unkempt they can be. Enjoy.

"The first day of our visit was coincidentally the day of Maha Shivratri- a day when the Elephanta Festival was being celebrated. This day is a prosperous one for the locals who work there for it is a goldmine of opportunity for their livelihood. Locals from various parts of Maharashtra, too, visit the island in order to sell their delicacies and other ethnic products. Throngs of people come to the island in fishing boats and ferries to part take in the festivities- dressed in their finest clothing. Our group of four was just one of many that visited the island on this given day. Unaware of the festival for the day, we were taken aback by the sheer number of people on the otherwise relatively peaceful island. It wasn’t until we climbed up the long flight of stairs to the entrance of the caves that we discovered what all the noise was about.

The pathway up to Elephanta caves is flanked by salesmen and their stalls- selling a vast range of merchandise, from hats and souvenirs to jewelry and clothes. However, these stalls are there throughout the year. The pathway is also spotted by restaurants and food stalls- attracting the monkeys down from the hills, hoping to get their tiny, human-like hands on any vulnerable tourist’s lunch.

Upon entering the trail just below the caves which leads to the eastern side of the island, we were suddenly bombarded by innumerable hawkers and tourists. The entire trail toward the forested area was blocked up by these salesmen and their customers. We knew then that our task for the day would not be easy. Apart from the presence of people in such large numbers, there was incessant noise ringing throughout the island owing to chatter, screaming and crying children, prayer chants and hawkers calling out to customers. There were excited groups throwing food and packets at the monkeys that had come down from their trees opportunistically to eat from the fascinated people. But worst of all, was the garbage. Every stall produced heaps and heaps of waste which were carelessly tossed over the hillside or dumped behind the promenade. Even small foodstuffs like kairi and cucumber were being sold in plastic packets, which were promptly thrown away along the trail once its contents had been downed. Children were being instructed by their parents to litter around despite the fact that everyone carried bags in which they could have carried the waste away with them. Apart from the tourists, none of the hawkers had dustbins alongside their stalls- which didn’t leave their visitors with many other options. I was particularly surprised when I found a man selling cigarettes and lighters (and making very good business) when smoking in public places is prohibited by law.

We were relieved to get away from the heavy crowd of people when we began climbing upward, off the trail and into the wooded area. The trees and altitude were efficient in cutting off the sound once we got about 200 feet above the ground level. What was becoming painfully clear was that it was still the dry season at Elephanta and a large percentage of vegetation was still bare. (600feet up to Elephanta caves+500feet up the hill) This directly pointed toward the low probability of spotting tree-dwelling bats in that area. From roughly half way up, we took stalk of the green areas lying above us and set off toward them. We found some fruiting trees and some wild berries and a few Banyan trees. However, apart from a few common birds, we found no other winged beasts. We continued combing the landscape with our eyes and searching for signs of bats, but in vain. However, we were finding several clues as to absence of these flying mammals. Keeping a continuous record of our findings, we finally descended back to where our own species was creating more racket than all the birds on the island could produce combined. We completed the trail for whatever it was worth and ensured that we had covered as much area as was accessible on the eastern side of the island.

As the day progressed, more and more people began visiting the island and at about 2pm, it had more people there than we would’ve ever imagined. It took us a long time to climb down the stairs back to the ferry, simply as the route was blocked by people climbing up and down or shopping along the way. The experience was both surprising and disturbing. Back on the Ferry, people were finishing off their snacks from the island and tossing their empty wrappers overboard at the sea gulls or otherwise- despite the presence of a dustbin on board.

Day two on the island was much calmer, as the festivities were done with and most of the stalls had disappeared. Only those stalls leading up to the caves remained, which caused minimal disturbance to the ecosystem there. As we arrived earlier than the previous day, it was nearly deserted to begin with. Taking advantage of this, we headed straight for the caves where we’d have enough time to search through them before the tourists arrived.

We went in order, starting with Cave number 1. There, much to our delight, above the main statue at the back of the cave, were clusters of bats hanging from the ceiling. They cling on to the walls with their claws in the dark. Upon closer inspection, they were found to be clusters of Asiatic Greater Yellow House Bats. This was an exciting finding for us. Along the ceiling, running away from the main idol but is fair proximity to the Yellow House Bats were slightly larger bats, which were later identified as Fulvous Roundleaf Bats. A healthy population of about fifty bats in total was seen in that cave.

We spoke to one of the guards there about the presence of cave-bats. The first one promptly assured us that there were no bats in the cave- probably hoping to reassure us about our safety. We went on to ask him about whether tree-dwelling bats were there on the island and he nodded in affirmative and told us that are present near Canon Hill. We weren’t sure how much to believe him, but we decided to look into his claims once we were done with the caves. Another guard who was more experienced than the former asked us to search for bats in cave number 5. Thanking him, we continued our search.

Investigations in Caves 2, 3 and 4 yielded no results, however we found calcification along the walls and droppings- both of which were indicative of bats visiting the area. The caves were also dotted with insect eggs and wasp nests- both of which are prey to the bats. Thus, it is quite possible that even though the bats do not roost in these caves, they visit them after dusk to forage. We moved on.

Cave number 5, true to the second guard, proved to be home to a large number of cave bats. They were, however, hard to spot initially. The cave is devoid of any sculptures and is relatively dry in comparison to the others. Staring into the darkness, we were rewarded by three bats flying away from us in response to my camera’s flash. They were definitely larger than the ones we found in Cave number 1 and seemed to be easily perturbed by people. These bats flew right across us and into a narrow gash in the cave which opened up into a small dome. We crawled into the narrow space and found several bats of that same species flying about inside. It was very hard to capture images of them due to the low light conditions and the speed at which they flew. Within the same cave, we discovered another corner which housed the same bats and they kept flying between the domed cave and the open corner. These bats were definitely different from the ones from the previous cave. On subsequent comparison between the photographs we obtained and the available literature, we found that these were the Greater False Vampire bats. Thus, Cave 5 was where we found the most number of bats and the most active ones as well.

It was also evident from this, that the bats were constantly disturbed by the people and that their roosting areas were exposed to thoroughfare. However, they have been residing within these caves for several years now and are probably accustomed to sharing their home.

After finding these cave-dwelling bats, we continued on our search for tree-dwelling ones. We trekked upward once more, but this time, on the western side along Canon hill. This one was directly opposite the hill we climbed on Day One and we could retrace our path across it easily from where we were. As on the 17^th, we systematically followed the trail and left it every few meters to explore its surroundings and made a point to check every fruiting tree in the area. However, we did not find any Indian Flying Fox or other bats.

Before leaving the island, we paid one more visit to the eastern front of the island in order to check on the damage caused post Maha Shivratri and all its festivities. The trail seemed deceptively clean and we were, to say the least, astonished. We turned back to head to the Ferry when we looked down the hill slopes. The entire slope and landscape were streaked with garbage- plastic bags of varying sizes, bottles, cans, packets, broken toys, cigarette butts and more. It was a sorry sight. Even the monkeys kept away from all the junk. That holiday had a terrible effect on the nature surrounding the caves and the animals depending on it.

So, we left the island with mixed feelings and finally, some results.

.....The natural flora and fauna of the island is beautiful and diverse. It is home to about a 100 bird species- including migratory birds- and some common mammals as well. It is also home to species of the only flying mammal- bats. However, since the caves are a hot tourist attraction, being a heritage structure, it has been populated by people who now make a living from the visitors. The entrance to the island is dotted with boards asking people to keep the area clean, but ironically, we found large amounts of garbage at the feet of these boards themselves. It is full of well-educated people ignoring their better judgement and littering indiscriminately. Along with the dearth of general awareness regarding cleanliness, there’s an unfortunate dearth of ecological conscience. Somehow, this must be instilled within people. Instead of fixing the problem, the people there are getting used to the litter around and are learning to co-exist with it. It’s about time we realized that garbage, this invasive species, has to go. On the slightly brighter side, there were dustbins placed strategically at all the wrong places.  The best part about the maintenance of the island is that it is solar powered- which is a brilliant idea considering the amount of sunlight that the island receives daily."

Clumsiness befits you.

What hurts more? A bruised knee or a disturbed mind? And is it even a comparison worth making? I've decided to comb my memories and figure out. For I take questionable pride in being a nitwit of a clutz and have a fair share of injuries to boast of.

Take, for instance, when I was about eight. And I flew straight off a slide and landed face down with gravel in my knees. Now mind you, I could've had a safe landing had I not attempted to "stand up midway to gain momentum". I obviously didn't understand how physics worked.
Not that I do now,anyway.
My knee had more bruises than skin and every time it began to heal, I managed to give it a good bang against a wall or something, opening it up once more. It was a few months before my balance learned how to deal with the situation. Neural conditioning, If you will.

When I was six, I figured jumping was the way to go up stairs in a rather boring shop. I don't remember what they sold there, but it had white walls and white lights and my mother was taking way too much time. I tripped, needless to say, with my chin colliding with impeccable precision on the edge of a stair. My skin spit open, my blood added colour to the interiors and my bone peeked out into the big bad world. I was rushed to the doctors to be sewn up.

My chin bone obviously hadn't seen nearly enough in time to be pushed back under epidermis, and so, shortly afterward, I fell flat from a monkey pole in school. My mother, who was talking to my friend's mother at the time, turned around and let out an astonished, "not again".

Around seven, I was running around my building and hopped right onto an exposed soldering iron.
Oh, the pain.
I recited boli from Kathak and spoke unendingly, hoping I'd learn to ignore the weird throbbing. My foot was wrapped in potato peels which made me feel like my feet were peeling off themselves. It was strange, for I could feel the warmth leaving my foot and the cold peels wiggling under my toes. I got to miss school the next day.

When I was thirteen,I decided to race my athletic and skinny best friend across a somewhat restricted area of school. The fact that I was round and overweight and that I never finished earlier than seventh in any sport didn't seem to stop me. Off I went, my stubby legs carrying me unbelievably fast. Still, when I looked ahead, there she was, my skinny friend, darting toward the finish line. My legs, as though oblivious to my uncoordination and perpetual state of inertia, flung me faster still. Half way in, I lost my foothold and simultaneously tripped over some dried leaves. I fell forward onto my stomach, my arms outstretched over my head and my legs trailing behind me. My speed kept me moving, as though being disqualified from the race would be much too disgraceful. I slid for about ten seconds, looking like Superman traveling closer to the ground because gravity felt overly affectionate toward him that day.
I returned home covered in red. Mercurochrome, not blood.

A few days later, I rushed to open the door as the bell rang. I had ordered pads from a medical and they had finally arrived. In my hurry, I banged the door on the bridge of my nose- swinging it inward wildly. I began to laugh loudly and nearly scared away the delivery boy who looked fairly confused about what just happened. I was going to need some plaster for my throbbing bone.

Two years later, I was talking to a friend animatedly when I walked into a metal tap. Its nozzle struck my shin and left four cuts in my skin- symmetric parallel lines that to this day form my most beloved scar. I bet nobody has one as pretty.

I once fell flat on my bottom from the top berth of a train on my way to Calcutta in the dead of the night.

My most recent wound was from running up stairs at the railway station and getting my leg caught in my own pants. My knees hit the marble and left me limping for ten days after.

In the years to come, I slipped on pavements, sprained my ankle while standing up straight, fell down stairs and landed on my bottom (multiple times) and tore a muscle by throwing a tent pole wrong.

Granted I've never broken a bone or gone into labour, but I've always brushed my backside, had a good laugh and hobbled along until my immune system did its job. One gets used to being clumsy.

I doubt it's as easy to recover from being sad. Sadness isn't skin deep and is far removed from feeling hurt. But I feel like the comparison between physical and emotional pain cannot be made simply due to how subjective it is- from person to person. The sensation of external wounds is somewhat universal, but emotional wounds would differ based on experience and degrees of stoic-ness.

I don't think I'll ever understand how or why people dictate which situations one is allowed to be vulnerable in and in which situations one must stifle the tears. Shouldn't every person be allowed to let their own, individual chemicals tango in their minds exactly how they please? 

Double-B

It's always easier said than done
To spread 2mm of butter on bun
But it's much easier done than said
To eat up that greasy, heavenly bread.