Writing could become a curse if I’m not
careful. I’m too analytical, get too involved in the detail. I don’t know how
beneficial that is, often my initial assumptions are the one’s that seem to
hold true. One of the local chai stall holders was in a mess when I first
arrived. One arm was in a sling and her face was battered and badly bruised. My
immediate assumption was that she’d been severely beaten, though she dismissed
the injuries as the result of a motorbike accident. Over the course of time
I’ve got to know her better, though never questioned her claims. I can’t see it
myself, fail to see how you could sustain such extensive bruising without the
slightest scratch to the surface of the skin, not by falling off a bike. So I’m
left with my original impression, that she’s been given a beating. Domestic
subjugation is still in the dark ages here, violence in the home is common, or
so I’m told. Of course it isn’t something that’s likely to be witnessed, such
events generally happen behind closed doors. I keep my eyes peeled now, and
find myself noticing more and more women with bruises around the eyes. (Photo: Paradise beach - Maharashtra, India)
I don’t want to jump to the same conclusion
every time I see a female with a bruise, but I am aware that domestic violence
is a problem here. It isn’t easy to accurately interpret a conversation in a
foreign language you don’t speak, but often actions speak louder than words. A
group of guys sat at the table next to me in a restaurant, having an animated
conversation in Hindi, while necking glasses of whisky. One made the motion of
a high-handed slap, followed by an imitation of a whimpering mewl, to an uproar
of laughter by the whole group. Another responded in a similar vein, but the
noise he imitated was more a sobbing plea. Again it met with a round of
approving laughter. Sorry, I can’t see it any other way than making a joke out
of violence and the distress of their victims. The fact that the tone of the
noises they imitated were distinctly female, leaves me in no doubt what they made
fun of. (Photo: What's on the menu today? - Maharashtra, India)
It turns my stomach, not just the
institutionalised violence but treating it as a joking matter. The casual
cruelty to animals is bad enough, but vicious outbreaks on totally innocent
creatures are too much. No-one bats an eyelid when someone lays the boot into a
dog wandering down the road. It will be for no other reason than it walked too
close, the guy just being in a crap mood and wanting to vent his anger. I’ve
always liked Asia for the widespread absence of violent crime, it now dawns on
me that it’s only due to me not being in one of the target groups. There’s
plenty of aggression to be seen when you’ve a mind, the quick outbreaks I’ve
witnessed have been accompanied with looks of seething hatred for the victim. I
stopped a guy hurling stones at a dog, which was nowhere near him, no-one else
was going to. But the look on his face said it all, he really wanted to hurt
that animal.(Photo: Beach rides - Paradise beach, Maharashtra)
It leaves me in a better head-state when I
focus on the delightful aspects of being in Paradise. Watching the dolphins
patrol the bay in the quiet lull of early morning. Or noticing the fine control
the eagles get by the slightest twitch of their tail feathers, they use their
wings for lift, their tails for turning. There are dozens of them too, circling
wherever there might be the chance of any scrap to eat. I refer to them as
eagle though am unsure of what defines a hawk and what an eagle. They act as
scavengers mainly, combing the shoreline for whatever the tide serves for
lunch. I’ve encountered more sea snakes stranded above the waterline, managing
to rescue a cute little creature who was much too lively to manhandle. The poor
thing struggled valiantly against the incoming tide, but I finally coaxed it
beyond the thin line of breaking surf. The bigger ones are always by the
fishing boats, so I think it’s safe to assume they’re a by-product of the day’s
catch. The fishermen can’t be bothered, but the birds waste no time in
devouring them. (Photo: In the morning haze - Paradise beach, Maharashtra)
There are only eight weeks before my
return, and my mind ponders which bike to buy when I get back. I even
contemplated a car, but you know me, I can’t comprehend not having a bike to
ride. So if anyone has any suggestions, or something decent on offer, let me
know.
Over the years I’ve been lucky enough to
swim and dive with turtles. I’ve watched them emerge from the surf and haul
themselves laboriously up the beach and make an aborted attempt at nest
building amongst building rubble. In Java I got to witness them laying their
eggs, and the subsequent collection and hatching of the eggs. I’ve even handled
baby turtles. But for the first time I actually got to see a nest of hatchlings
being released. It might be seen as a shame I couldn’t see them breaking out
their shells, but in truth that happens beneath the surface of the sand. This
nest was enclosed a few weeks ago when the turtle came and laid her eggs, on
the full moon. Tides were high and the effort needed to clamber up the beach
was minimalized. Laying and hatching coincide with the moon cycles, making the
most of the tides and available light. Now on the new moon, spring tides again,
the hatchlings make their break for freedom in the dark of night. (Photo: Newly hatched - Paradise Beach, Maharashtra)
Except these one’s were given a helping
hand, not left entirely to the devices of nature itself. There isn’t the
problem of eggs being poached here, so they don’t collect the eggs and hatch
them in controlled environments. Known turtle beaches are checked around the
full moon, any nests have protective fences hastily erected around them. When
it’s hatching time the nest is surrounded by a wickerwork barrier, a basket
with the bottom cut out, so the hatchlings can get out the sand but go no
further. The following morning they then release them at the water’s edge,
being at hand to protect their escape. Of course once they’re in the water
mankind’s ability to help them further lay in our treatment of the marine
environment rather than individual creatures. I’m in two minds about
interfering with nature, I do think we should be guardians and try and
neutralise the detrimental effects humanity has had on the natural world, but I
don’t think we should be playing god. (Photo: Turtle race across the sand - Paradise Beach, Maharashtra)
The way they do things here means minimal
interference, which I’m all in favour of. There is no need to invest in
hatcheries and staff to run them, financing can concentrate on field staff. Of
course to leave eggs in situ relies on them being safe where they are. In Java
they weren’t, wild pigs, dogs and poachers all extracted a heavy toll. There
were dozens of nests, the beach was littered with them, and the vast majority
had been desecrated. So eggs were taken, hatched in an artificial environment,
grown on for a brief spell then released into the water on the correct phase of
the moon. I always wondered whether that extent of interference might have a
detrimental effect. At what stage does a newly hatched turtle imprint its
geographic location, plot its position on its global map so it can find its way
back? Personally I don’t think that happens in a laboratory building, or being
carried in a container from the hatchery to the water’s edge. So unless a
turtle’s imprinting happens once in the water, those Javan turtles are going to
find it mighty hard to find their way home.(Photo: The final furlong - Paradise Beach, Maharashtra)
You can’t help but feel sorry for the tiny
hatchlings being cast into an ocean void, so small, so helpless. At least
they’ve been given a better chance of survival. After a frantic dash towards
the water they get hit by the first surge of water and tumble back up the
beach, to be deposited again metres from the water’s edge. It can happen
repeatedly, yet still they struggle on valiantly against all odds. The presence
of an audience kept the carrion eaters at bay, the occasional stray could also
be put to rights by being placed closer to the water. Why they deposit them ten
metres from the sea is debatable. Personally I think it’s better to do as
naturally as possible, but suspect it was to put on a better show for
spectators. Which is fine, some interaction with nature is good for people. At
least they weren’t cashing in on the situation. (Photo: Waterborne at last - Paradise Beach, Maharashtra)
And that’s been the highlight of my last
fortnight really, life has plodded on nicely here. I’m still taking the path of
least resistance, by staying put. Not wanting the upheaval of moving on is one
aspect of it, not being able to decide where I might go is another. I do have
ideas but none appeal so much I can’t resist, what is foremost in my mind is to
crack on with my book. Which is coming on, with only the occasional interference
for social intercourse. I have to back pedal a touch, take the sting out of my
words about Russian tourists. En masse they do leave a lot to be desired, but
some are more than happy to communicate once the barriers are down. So many
criticise their own countrymen, agreeing they’re not the friendliest of people
to outsiders. Isn’t that the case though, especially in areas of mass tourism,
the more discerning often heavily condemn the average tourist. As I state quite
clearly most the time, wherever you go there are good and bad. So in effect
it’s our own responsibility to reach out for the good when the opportunity
arises. Though I must admit, my goals are to write, not get hammered at every
available opportunity. (Photo: A change from turtle pictures - Paradise Beach, Maharashtra)
