Last day of November Mt Abu

Last Day of November: Reflections by the Lake

The legend of the lake, once firm, which states that the lake overflows only after claiming a soul in tragic sacrifice, may be waning. With the November rains, I had thought this tale would resurface in full force as water levels neared the top. But, here we are—a full foot below overflowing, leaving the myth a step from reality.

The lake’s familiar visitors, the cormorants, have returned, ready to roost. This year, though, they’ll miss their usual rocky perches, now hidden beneath the water. This serves as a stark reminder of nature’s shifts and our need for action. Urgent lake maintenance is crucial: the floating debris and scum form a film on the surface that churns the stomach just to look at. Winter has begun, and already a slight, unsettling odour exists. What will this place feel like when the summer heat sets in?

As I walked by yesterday, I captured a few curious monkeys in my lens—a playful interruption in a scene otherwise shadowed by decay and neglect. It’s a beautiful yet fragile time for the lake. Here’s hoping we take on its care with the urgency it deserves, so it can thrive once more.

Took this threesome at the Lake

Seems the crocodile got this poor fellow's tail

 

 

 

Fag End of the Monsoons–Mount Abu [10/09/2010]

Perhaps the rains will fade quietly, or perhaps the lake still has a story to tell.

The rains of 2010 have not been harsh, nor have they been kind. They’ve lingered, steady and brooding, and now we stand at the fag end of the season. The clouds still circle above like vultures, heavy with what little they have left to pour, but everyone knows the monsoon is slipping away.

In Abu, though, rain is never just weather—it carries whispers, old tales, and warnings. The lake at the heart of our hill station is no ordinary lake. Abuites will tell you in hushed tones that it has a hunger of its own. When it claims a life—be it by drowning, despair, or dark sacrifice—it cannot rest until it has overflowed. waters must spill, as if purging the blood from its belly.

A few days ago, the lake claimed another. Suicide, they say. Now the town waits. Some scoff at the legend, dismissing it as superstition. But others—especially the old ones—watch the waterline with grim certainty. They know what is coming. The overflow is only a question of “when,” not “if.”

The hills, silent in their green mist, seem to be listening as well. A strange stillness hangs like the hush before a confession in the damp air.

I’ll keep watch, and I’ll tell you when the lake breaks. Until then, here are a few glimpses of Abu in its haunted, rain-soaked skin—beautiful, yes, but always carrying shadows beneath the surface.

Sloth bear opposite Santsaravor a BEAUTY

Standing Pose

Canopy over Plummy

Lower Khodra dam is almost full

St.Mary’s School Mount Abu

The school

Sparrow Hawk

Hypnotizing

Posing

A lovely pair

Wire tunes Misty Morn