The Zoologist Chronicles: Blades, Forceps and Squirrels

Well, since I'm a wannabe zoologist and all, I thought I should talk a little about my, er, zoological exploits sometimes. It's no secret in my home that I love critters of all types (I'm scared of dogs, and I wouldn't like to cuddle with lizards either...) but man, when you study anything biological, one heinous thing forced in your life is dissection. 

My dissection kit (like this one) is a lovely hand-me-down case of killer tools, previously owned by my elder sister. One of my last practical exams was a horrible frog-torturing affair -look up how to pith a frog if you want nightmares- that made me swear I won't touch it again. I don't want to do any kind of animal-killing ever again, but still I have to wonder what my options would be if it is included in future courses. One of my greatest regrets is not being brave enough to say no to my teacher.

Moving on to less grisly subjects. Then there was the time I took a course on animal diversity. The highlight of this course, of course, was an amazing trip to Ayubia. Three days away from home, which was undergoing extensive renovation. Three days away from the routines of college. Three days away from my family!! What adventures we would have! The purpose of this trip was to visit a lecture at the Ayubia National Park (I recommend going there, it's a beautiful, very forest-y place) and to see two particular species of squirrel - small Kashmiri gray squirrel and the large red flying squirrel. Since these species are nocturnal, it meant walking around an extremely creepy jungle at night. When leopards haunt the darkness. And our teacher would occasionally ask us to turn off our torches! 

I remember, on the second night of our stay we went to look for the red flying squirrel, things were particularly spooky. No one was talking very loud, and we moved in a single column towards this empty church (not my picture) in the middle of the forest, which was looked after an old man and his family. A lot of girls muttered later that it was haunted, and strangely a lot of the photographs I took inside the church during the daytime had orbs in them. Could be just dust, yeah. Could be. All that time away from home must have addled my brains a little. *coughs* Still, the freakiest thing that happened was not supernatural at all. It was a small thing - all of us quietly chattering our way through the path, when all of a sudden we heard two growls rumble out of the darkness. Since I was walking alone in the middle somewhere, quiet close to the trees, my first instinct was to quickly edge away and lump with the others and remember, that one girl had clutched my arm only a few moments ago and whispered to me, "Kiran!!! What do we do if a leopard comes? What do we do?!!!"

What to do, indeed?

Nothing spectacular, really. We just flashed our torches around even more, and reached the clearing around the church were we managed to see the beautiful red flying squirrel (Petaurista petaurista). A little info: they are nocturnal, they have these big eyes that reflect light, they have a skin stretched between their limbs called a patagium, which helps them glide like a paper plane. And they are quite dark-red and fuzzy. You can learn more about it here. I wasn't able to find any non-youtube videos of it, but here is one that shows the red and white squirrel gliding.

However, on our way back to the bus, I happened to shine my torch to a clump of bushes on my left. And was met with the sight of two large shiny, unmoving circles which resembled a big cat's eyes very very much. 

Needless to say, I didn't try to investigate and instead sped up to reach the mercifully brightly lit bus. A friend of mine said she saw the eyes too when we had heard the growling.

So, the next time you plan to go hiking in the woods, remember: respect nature, and don't provoke it. Animals prefer to observe rather than attack. Unless they are injured and cannot catch their normal prey they don't go after humans.

Next time on the Zoology chronicles: The Diary of Morpheus

- spirare

Garden in the Summer

Well, we don't really have a garden. Just a little space with a collection of plants in pots (about 80% are aloe vera, 10% motia, the rest are varieties that are in between dying and drying out). And my two money plants, which I've had since forever and have grown amazingly from the little branches my mother filched for me from our cranky neighbour's garden. I've grown up caressing their leaves and pulling out weeds from the roses and chasing the skinks (this crazy thing, if I am correct) which like to hide under the pots sometimes. On sunny days, I would make an open tent for myself by hanging a blanket across the laundry lines. I have a tumultuous love-hate relationship with warmth. I'd like to wrap it around me like a blanket. Imagine how great it would be to have a blanket of warm water to snuggle in during the winter. Provided you don't get wet, of course.

Anyway, our garden has waxed and waned, died and regrown and fruited over the years. Currently, it is flourishing. A little neem tree, a bush of tulsi, some raat ki rani, the aloe vera and lemon tree. And my money plants, always constant. In a way, I think these plants are like me. Some have died and come back, there are new shoots and varieties, and then there's the faithful, familiar elements, in which I can curl and rest before trudging out into the world. Maybe that's why I am the person in the family who prefers to stay outside the most and tend to the plants. We are drawn to things that reflect us.

-spirare

Silence and no sound

Hi folks,

I feel like I've been gone quite a while from this dusty space. Since I finished my bachelors degree (in Zoology, in case anyone is curious), things have slowed down a lot, and I have divided my ample time between chores, knitting, looking after my lime butterfly chrysalis, random baking and perusing the newspapers for admission notices. So this is it - my in between space. And I feel I am supposed to build myself up again.

When I was young, I had the wildest imagination and I spent a lot of my time playing make-believe. It was a magical time - when I could see the beasts and the misty swamp, puzzle my way through the secret tunnels under castles and find the hostage, feeling the worn stone beneath my feet. As I grew older some sort of shroud fell away, and I killed off my characters and laid waste to the land I had inhabited. Yikes.

Now today, I cannot imagine anything away with the same vividness. It's like trying on a too-small shirt and looking in the mirror, only to see a distorted reflection of myself. And thus I come to the conclusion: we shed so many skins as we grow up. It hurts a lot later, when we realize what we sloughed off, but there's no use thinking about what-ifs and has-beens.

I've been working on some new music lately, and only now am I starting to frame a concept around it. I've decided to call this one Obscura for now. I consider it an ode to my former self. I really want to upload it soon.

In the meantime, is anyone out there? How are you?