Mount Abu, 1977. The rain was heavy and unrelenting and lay knee-deep in the town at the bottom of the hill where passengers arrive by train. I'd had to stay the night in that town, but next day I was able to get a ride in a truck to the small village at the top of the mountain, and there things were a bit brighter.
The attractions advertised didn't do much for me - temples, temples, more temples, and a water tank. Late in the afternoon, and feeling a little dispirited, I took a walk along a path that skirted the village. It ran around the peak of the mountain, with a drop on one side down through thick jungle onto the plain, and more thick bush on the other side too.
It was a scenic walk, as I'd been assured. Beneath me the plains of Rajasthan stretched out as far as I could see and the sun was just beginning its quick descent. That worried me. I had already been walking about twenty minutes and was beginning to feel the bush closing in on me. The light was fading, and I remembered my fear of snakes, a fear born of experience. I was alone. The walk was supposed to take thirty minutes, just ten minutes more left, so there was no sense in backtracking. I walked resolutely forward, appreciating with fear all that was around me.
Every movement in the bush was suspect - it had to be a snake, or maybe a big, wild cat. Then as I turned a corner hoping to see the village that was meant to be not far off, I was confronted by something terrifying, mysterious and compelling. Just yards in front, in the direction I was walking, a storm of color and dust hovered above the ground. It was like a miniature tornado developed in a science lab and was accompanied by a fury of squawking and flapping. I froze. Thoughts charged through my mind about retreat, escape, death and defeat. This dervish moved along the ground, throwing up dust, laced with scarlet, green and black, squawking and squealing and tearing leaves off trees.
After a few seconds the colorful, flapping torture lifted further from the ground. The hideous noises had stopped and the tangle began to free itself to stretch back into its normal shape. Bit by bit, when the dust had fallen away, the flapping shock evolved into a bird with an enormous wing span. It flew up from the bush, above the trees, and dangling from its claws, as it swung away from the mountain, hung the limp figure of a snake that it had snatched from my path.
