Even when the air was still, the lake kept washing over its edges and receding in a strange rhythm. It was as if it had a beating heart in its depths. I liked to think that it did. I started out that morning, to walk around the Hadosiddapura lake, past the Eucalyptus plantation and to find some un-walked earth to wander on. Instead I sat by the shore till afternoon. That November it had rained down unusually hard when I was there in Bangalore. A good number of lakes were running full to the brim, spilling over onto the adjacent roadways. The car journeys through this city now seemed to get progressively eternal. I was staying at The Bhoomi College for a few days, and on some mornings, I walked behind the campus and spent most of my time by the Hadosiddapura lake. This lake, which is as of now safely tucked away in the suburbs, too had breached its banks and had more water this year than I had ever seen in it. My body is nearly cold-blooded. It is accustomed to getting warmed up
I am Yuvan, a naturalist, writer and activist based in Chennai. My work revolves around bringing nature education to children. In my travels I seek to understand how our mindscapes and cultures may be rooted in, braided with place and wilderness. My writings have appeared in Sanctuary Asia, Roundglass Sustain, The Hindu, etc. My book 'A Naturalist's Journal' is a collection of essays on countryside wilderness and my journey in walking out of the schooling-college system to educate myself.