More wrangling

Here is a short video of a failed attempt to arrest an adult male for measurement.

The Indo-Gangetic plain

Every year, two massive monsoons grace India with lush rainfall before expiring in the towering mountain ranges that isolate the region. First as snow, then as glaciers, then as sediment-rich runoff, this water returns to the subcontinent in three massive rivers: the Ganges, flowing eastwards across the north of India; the Brahmaputra, flowing south to meet the Ganges in Bangladesh; and the Indus, flowing south through the arid reaches of the west. It is the Indus, now the aorta of Pakistan, that granted the region and its native religion their names, as Indus became Hindustan and finally India and Hinduism.


The vast fertile swath created by these three rivers, known as the Indo-Gangetic plain, is today home to over 900 hundred million people. Many live in some of the largest cities on earth-- Islamabad, Karachi, Delhi, Kanpur, Kolkata, Dhaka-- but most reside in the countless small villages typical of South Asian life. Even today, over 60% of Indians draw their primary income from agriculture, even though it only accounts for only 28% of GDP. To a large degree, it is this economic pattern that explains why 300 million Indians live on less than $1 a day, and 750 million on less than $2 a day. Yet it is the ability to support enormous numbers of people that grants India its richness, whether in the earth-shaking armies of the Mughal Empire or the growth of today's IT economy.

First illness

The absolute stupidest thing that some hippy backpacker tourists say is that the water in India is just fine, that it's only our weak western digestive tracks that aren't used to the particular melange of nasty stuff here. So they drink the water, get sick, and somehow rejoice in their moral triumph over their body's inadequacy.

One problem: reliable access to potable water is the greatest problem of the developing world, much of India included. Here's some news to folks thinking about going native: the leading cause of hospitalization in India is diarrhea. The water sucks. Don't drink it, if you can afford to.

When I arrived, I did some research and found out that the water in Bikaner is quite good, so I took my chances and have been drinking it for the past four weeks. So far, so good: I've been laid low with a nasty head cold, but am happy just not to be stuck in the bathroom.

Breeds of Camel: Jaisalmeri

This camel breed emerged around the most isolated of Rajasthan's fort towns, the golden city of Jaisalmer. As in Bikaner, the wealth of the state depended on the taxation of trade. Here, however, the penchant for draught was not so strong, and camels were instead selected for utility as pack animals.

The Jaisalmeri camel is tall and thin, without the large withers and muscles of the Bikaneri. Its coat is very sparse and lightly colored, with no extra facial or body hair. This physique makes it well-suited for racing as well as pack, and the type consistently wins at the famous camel fairs in Pushkar, Jaisalmer, and Bikaner.

Here, a typically Jaisalmeri face:

The Valley of Death

I have spent the past few days following the main herd on its daily wanderings through the 700-hectare NRCC ranch. Ostensibly with the goal of familiarizing myself with 'natural' camel behavior and learning herding techniques from the raikas, I have ended up spending far more time simply wandering through the well-preserved range and enjoying the desert scenery. I am gradually getting used to the Thar, learning the patterns of vegetation growth and where to find the largest groups of miniature antelope.

On Tuesday I hopped an intriguingly barbed-wire fence. Walking in a downwind direction I had no clue what awaited me. Soon I was surrounded by the carcasses of dozens of animals-- cows, camels, dogs, buffalo, everything-- whose decay and reclamation was presided over by massive packs of mangy dogs and enormous congregations of vultures and other large birds. As the stench washed over me and I fingered my walking stick in hopes of never needing to defend myself, I recalled a warning I had ignored several days before.

When an animal dies, dalits (untouchables) are called to remove the corpse. After removing anything of value for later processing, they transport the carcass to a designated spot for disposal. It was this city dumping ground I had strayed into. Surrounded by years of decay, the aroma of death filled my lungs and I focused on getting away safely. It was only later that my thoughts turned to the people whose lives are consumed by such business.

Plan

Time is fast running out before the advent of breeding season and several aspects of my introduction to camelology are not yet complete. This week, I will spend most days in the field with the camel herd observing behavior and learning herding techniques. Next week may hold a sample-gathering and stud-buying trip.

Breeds of Camel: Bikaneri

There are four breeds of camel in India, distinguished as much through historical and geographic separation as by biological difference: Bikaneri, Jaisalmeri, Merwari, and Kacchi. Here, I will describe the Bikaneri.

India is one of the few parts of the world where camels are used as draught animals, and Bikaner, as an isolated city dependent on trade, prefers camels well suited for hitching to a cart. The breed is very large and heavy, with thick appendages and hefty withers. It is much darker than most camel breeds, with profuse facial and neck hair. This gives the animal a rather hilarious appearance. A defining trait of the breed is the distinctive notch or 'shtop' in the snout.

Here, pictures showing the dark coloration, hairy face, and 'shtop' of the Bikaneri camel (contrasted with a Jaisalmeri in the second photo):

History of camel: use for draught

In his fascinating book The Camel and the Wheel (1975), Richard Bulliet of Columbia-Ahmadinejad fame musters an impressive body of camel-knowledge to argue that the efficiency of the camel as a pack animal is largely what drove the disappearance of the wheel from Middle Eastern cultures since Roman times. By coordinating economic, political, social, and, interestingly, camel saddling aspects of Middle Eastern societies, he convincingly shows that the invention of the North Arabian saddle allowed nomadic camel-herders to begin to dominate overland trade routes. This dominance in turn triggered the abandonment of the less-efficient cart. The expansion of Islam reintroduced or solidified the role of the camel across North Africa, the Middle East, and South and Central Asia, and these societies, by and large, discarded the wheel in favor of the more efficient pack camel.

In India, however, cultural familiarity with the wheel was stronger, and even in the most arid, camel-friendly reaches of the Thar desert the cart survived, in all of its oxen-, donkey-, and camel-powered varieties. The camel cart is commonplace on the streets of Bikaner, still used alongside tractors and trucks. The most important selection criteria in the NRCC's complicated method for evaluating the suitability and value of male camels are those related to draught ability. Pack camels, once the lifeline of this desert city, are now only used to transport that most agreeable and easily-loaded commodity: tourists.

Here, a typical camel cart after transporting feed to the main corral. Note the saddle, an Indian pakkra. I took the photo during a sandstorm:

Pimp my Ride, Indian Edition

One of the most noticeable aspects of India is its deafening noise level, which recedes only slightly at night as devotees, drunkards, and dogs take control of the streets. One of the greatest daytime offenders is the tricked-out autorickshaw (tuk-tuk) replete with a custom paint job and massive sound system blaring the latest Hindustani hits to cover up the ominous skips in the two-stroke engine. My masculine sensibilities offended by the presence of wheels badder than mine, I set out to pimp my ride, Indian style.

The six-day workweek affords little time for all-day automotive capers, so yesterday I set out with the limited goal of getting a stereo system installed. This way, my extensive funk collection could grace the streets of Bikaner alongside Punjabi dance tunes and Bollywood anthems. Through Jitu's recommendation, I consulted with Kailash, a mechanic who specialized in the modification of electrical systems.

His plan was simple. We would bypass the battery to feed a small amplifier equipped with a cutoff (so I could plug it into the wall for tailgating) and a switch. The amp would be housed in a box with a mounting for one speaker, with the other fixed in the protective bars in front of my left foot. I would build a small hook up and casing for my iPod.

Our first stop was the Jain Market, where we haggled over the price of the equipment sans warranty. After a brief stop at home to test the system, we headed towards the Modern Market, where mechanics were able to jury-rig the box to my Platina and install the speakers, routing the wiring through the body of the bike.

Returning home, we began the process of final assembly. While I worked on the iPod holder, Kailash and his friend Dharma mounted the electronics and tested the circuits. I noted with apprehension that the method for checking for current involves the tongue.

The system (no specs, for it was built in true hodge-podge Indian style) puts out enough volume to be heard over the engine even at high speeds, but I haven't yet developed the confidence to deploy it in the city. For that, I'm going to wait until I can reliably drive in traffic without stalling out. Til then, and the next project, the Funkmobile will have to wait.

Kailash (l), Dharma (c), and Sonu (r) discuss the electronics in the Vinayak courtyard:

The front speaker. The amp/box assembly. Switch, iPod case, and rear speaker.

Learning to ride

After some initial difficulty with the idea of not having to pedal, I have quickly begun to get comfortable with driving my new motorbike. Coming from a summer of bicycling in New York, I am only moderately intimidated by Bikaner traffic. Worse are the unpredictable and omnipresent cows and the bands of savage roaming dogs who seem to always be able to tell just which riders lack the confidence to give them a sharp kick.

Reproductive cycles

It is most fitting that our Class, Mammalia, is named for an aspect of the female reproductive tract. Especially with regards to the placental mammals (the Theria, which excludes platypuses, echidnas, and kangaroos), the challenges of mating have had a profound impact on our structure, function, and behavior.

Most mammals exhibit an estrous cycle. In this system, ovulation is accompanied by suite of physical and behavioral changes that indicate to males that the female is 'in heat,' or capable of conception. Business proceeds.

Humans are interesting because we have developed the menstrual cycle or 'permanent estrous.' Ovulation is outwardly concealed and conception is possible at any point in the cycle. The only external change is menstruation, the expulsion of an unfertilized ovum. Theoretically, the menstrual cycle evolved along with strong pair-bonding, as males who could not be sure when a female was in heat would be forced to monopolize one female for long periods of time to ensure his paternity.

Camels are also special, as they exhibit induced ovulation or the 'follicular wave.' Follicles are constantly growing and maturing, but ovulation is triggered only by the dirty deed itself. This unique cycle is the greatest obstacle to assisted fertility treatments in camels, for although the males are happy to contribute whenever the opportunity arises, females are quite picky about when they let their eggs out. The evolutionary implications of such as system will be covered in another post.

Here, Dr. Vyas assesses follicle development:

Consecrating the Bajaj

Upon my first homecoming with the new bike I was greeted by my adoptive family and excitedly told to come to the courtyard. There, we blessed the bike in a puja (ritual) befitting such a major purchase, washing it, adorning it with garlands, and painting auspicious symbols on it. Needless to say, it is only in India that one proudly festoons new motorbikes with swastikas.

Before proceeding to work, I stopped at a sweets shop to prepare for the other necessary ritual called for by major life changes. Arriving at the NRCC with two kilos of cashew cake made for a fun morning.

Here, Jitu (l) and Raz (r) perform the rites:

Saddle of camel: early stages

In this day and age many people have had the opportunity to sit atop a camel for a few minutes or days, as tourist operators the world over have realized the appeal these strange animals hold to the Westerner intent on experiencing the Orient. What we don't realize as our thighs chafe, backs ache, and butts get sore is that the piece of wood and cloth separating us from the ugly brute tells us everything we need to know about the history of the camel in that area.

Most of the time, you'll be perched behind the camel's hump, sitting atop the sacrum or pelvic juncture. This method is the easiest to learn and the most comfortable for those without the right callouses, and as such is preferred for first-time riders like tourists or the earliest domesticators.

These were fishermen of coastal Oman who turned to the camel for its milk. When the animal was ridden, it was with a simple mat tied behind the hump. Later, this padding was refined into a full-fledged saddle. Both of these designs are dominant in Somalia and East Africa, where camels were introduced at an early date and are still kept primarily for milk. In Arabia, however, there was to come a more efficient design that would change the role of the camel forever.

Source: Bulliet, R. 1975. The Camel and the Wheel. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

New motorbike

After two weeks of awaiting the proper bureaucratic approval, I have finally acquired my own motorbike. It is a new Bajaj Platina, shiny black, and it gets 60km/l (150mpg). On road price, including accessories, warranty, and insurance, was Rs.37,000, or about $875.

To my parents and family: the meager 100cc engine can barely get me up to 60mph, so recklessness is out of the question (no to mention the state of Indian roads keeps me below 30mph anyway). To friends: it's still got enough kick to make me feel like a badass when I cut loose in the desert, even though in relative terms it would be about as powerful as a Razor scooter if I brought it back to the US. I can't wait to trick it out with a custom paint job and an absurd novelty horn.

Camel pox

There is a small corral isolated from the rest of the facility where those camels requiring medical attention are kept. Right now it is home to several animals who have contracted camel pox. Several months ago the disease swept through the herd, infecting those animals who had not yet been exposed. While the very young usually survive the infection, older camels require much more attention (much like chicken pox in humans). Here, you can see the impending eruption of the pox on an older animal.

Move-in

I've finally moved out of the beautiful, if isolated, NRCC guest house. My new pad is a wonderful apartment in the Purani Ginnani neighborhood, an older area just beyond the fort and the main market. I'm renting a private room (with kitchenette and bathroom) on the top floor of a small homestay guesthouse. The family runs an NGO that sells village artwork and clothing to tourists as a way of supplementing rural incomes.


I was very conscious of the fact that, by moving to a city without an expat community, I was forcing myself to enter completely into an all-Indian social circle. Indeed, that was part of the appeal of Bikaner. Over the past few weeks, however, I have begun to realize that total isolation from Westerners would be a bit much. So living at the guesthouse is a good call- I'll have my privacy when I need it, an Indian family to get to know well, and, occasionally, a fellow native English speaker to talk to.


Here, my room. Shots of the rooftop view on the way.

Passage to India

A friend's letter made me wonder just how it got here. Poking around on the dumptruck internet I ran into this vintage postcard showing the first airmail route between England and India, operated by Imperial Airways (today's British Airways) from 1931 with HP.42 biplanes. What a wonderfully romantic way to get mail when compared to Gmail and FedEx:

The precise route: London-Paris-Marseilles-Brindisi-Athens-Crete-Alexandria-Cairo-Gaza-Ar Rutba-Baghdad-Basra-Kuwait-Bahrain-Sharjah-Muscat-Gwadar-Karachi-Jodhpur.

I, Dung Beetle

For those anxiously awaiting a more comprehensive explanation of the reasoning behind my blog's title, I've finally finished revising its eponymous essay. The original was a fair degree more technical so I've done my best to make this version more accessible. You can read it here.

More delays

My hard drive died today, consigning to memory megabytes of fantastic photos and movies I had hoped to post. Please excuse the delay.

The skinny on the net

I'm finding it extraordinarily difficult to find an internet cafe that can support both the processing needs and the bandwidth requirements of regularly posting multimedia. So I have a big pile of photos and videos (more camel wrangling) that are waiting for a decent connection. In a few days (once again waiting on paperwork...) I will get internet on my laptop through my mobile phone, and then the blog will be graced with copious amounts of new dung.

To my fellow 11 year olds

Every few days, the moaning of the camels and chirping of the birds at the NRC is puncuated by the distinct scream of an Indian Air Force jet making a low flyover. Bikaner, being a major population center near the Pakistan border, is home to a very large military base. The most plush part of town is reserved for high ranking officers and the ubiquitous army trucks are as overbuilt as any others in this country, though lacking the tricked-out religious paint job and novelty horn.

The aircraft in question are MiG-21M's, a 1960's-era Soviet fighter produced under license in India after the type's success in the 1971 Indo-Pakistan War. The 450 remaining in IAF service are due to be replaced by an indigenous design, the HAL Tejas.

Interestingly, despite India's increasing economic and social ties to the West, in addition to its political history as a solid democracy, it still turns to Russia for most of its defence needs. The newest aircraft in the IAF inventory are MiG-29's and locally-produced Su-30's, and considerable fuss has been made over the Indian acquisition of a Russian aircraft carrier.

The end of an era

I will soon move out of the guest house at the NRCC and into a small apartment in town. While I can't wait to get into a less isolated, more socially stimulating living situation, there are some things I will miss. These are perhaps best described in an outline of a normal day.

I get up briefly after dawn, around 7-730. While the desert is still cool, I run along the Bikaner-Jaipur highway. When trucks start passing me and the sun gets hot I know it's passed 8AM, and I return to the guesthouse for tea and a shower. After a simple breakfast of eggs, chapatis, and yoghurt I walk the quarter mile to the Centre, arriving as it opens around 10AM. I spend the days observing research, studying in the library, or learning practical skills with the raikas, taking a brief break for dhal and chapatis around 1PM. By 4.30 the work day is winding down and I head to the residence colony where the NRCC Athletics team, preparing for the annual ICAR championship meet in November, lets me join in their workout. With a short break at the dairy for fresh (camel) milk, I head back to the guest house for a largely empty (and sometimes lonely) evening or hitch a ride into town to run errands. At the oasis-like NRCC, crepuscular time can be kept by which species of bird is in roost, and as the sun sets a cool breeze picks up. Twice a week the security guards gather to watch the serial version of the Ramayan, and before bed I enjoy a simple veg dinner.

Camel wrangling

Yesterday morning I followed Dr. Aminu Deen to the farthest corral where the pregnant females, mothers, and yearlings are kept. A peculiar aspect of the camel's adaptation to the desert is its fluctuating temperature; in order to conserve energy used for thermoregulation, the body temperature can increase by up to 6C in the hottest conditions. There is still a safe range, however, and it is periodically necessary to check the youngs' temperature for illness. Here, the raikas (camel herders) demonstrate the process of isolating and subduing a yearling. Note the reaction of the herd. I can't wait to see it done on a 700kg bull.

Comeuppance

The white man's burden is of course greatest with regards to sports; America's strong showing at the Olympics (India in contrast garnered a paltry three medals, a national best, making it the country with the worst medal-to-population ratio in the world, except for Tibet) prepared me to exhibit my natural Yankee athleticism. My current living situation allows for long runs in the cool early morning desert, but, desiring something a little more competitive, I sought and most certainly found.

Hearing the familiar thump of a basketball after purchasing a water boiler in the market, I rounded a bend to see a game in full swing. Here, of course, was my opportunity. After an initial display of a near-dunk (my one and only talent when it comes to sports), I was prodded into a game of two-on-two. Unbeknownst to me, I was playing with the top three players from the all-Bikaner under-25 team.

Needless to say, I got my ass beat and thoroughly embarrassed my country's reputation. Perhaps I can redeem myself at cricket...

Best Research Awards

As a visiting scholar I have my run of the NRC, and I have quickly discovered which labs are air-conditioned (most days reach 38C). I have begun to lay the groundwork for my own research, which will officially begin on the 15th of September as I accompany geneticist Dr. S.C. Mehta to the southern part of Rajasthan to collect genetic samples. It has proven most edutaining, however, to sit in on the research of others, an activity I plan to continue for the next two weeks. The winners:

• The main push of the Physiology unit is to discover the reasons behind camel spermatazoa's low motility so as to facilitate artificial insemination. The main culprit seems so be some coagulant in the semen that is removable only by a yet undetermined catalyst in the female reproductive tract. There is little more entertaining than centrifuging camel sperm.
  
• The Reproduction unit is assessing ways of inducing ovulation, which is normally only triggered by male rut in the breeding season (Nov-Jan). The most likely method is through progesterone injections. If this effort is successful those females which did not conceive will not be a total loss for the year. They are also developing IVF methods.
  
• The Nutrition unit is currently focused on developing an alternate diet for camels that maximizes weight gain per rupee, as well as a study on esophageal constriction.
  
• The Genetics unit is engaged in a multi-year assessment of the genetic resources available in India, both among and within the different breeds of camels.
  
• The Biochemistry unit is currently conducting an anthropocentric study of the healthful effects of camel milk-based skin cream.
  
• Overall, the Centre is currently in a late-summer hush stemming from the heat as well as in anticipation of the exhaustive process of vetting (if you will) males for mating. The top studs will father up to a dozen calves at the Centre as well as traveling around the state to preserve pure and strong bloodlines.

I consider myself extremely lucky to get to dilettante my way through each of these projects.

Settling in

My adviser, Dr. Sumant Vyas, has proven exceptionally helpful in getting me settled. I am currently staying at the NRCC guest house, where the cook Meghraj's two daughters prevent me from oversleeping and the security guards' late night vigils introduce me to the coarser side of Hindi dialect. With Dr. Vyas' help, I have nearly secured my residence permit (through a haze of paperwork, most of which bore the title “Registration of Foreigners in India Act of 1939”), gotten set up with a mobile, and begun to explore and become accustomed to Bikaner. My days often feel empty despite the magnitude of the tasks yet to complete; without transport, I am often stranded at the guest house with only a book for company (right now it is Gore Vidal's splendid Empire). To this end, I have begun shopping for a motorcycle.

Meghraj and his daughters.

The NRCC

My academic affiliation is with the National Research Centre on Camel (NRCC), a division of the Indian Council on Agricultural Research (ICAR) under the Ministry of Agriculture. The campus, located approximately 10km south of Bikaner, resembles the ag-school campuses found around the world. A grand administrative building is flanked by the main laboratory facilities, all surrounded by the pens, corrals, and sheds necessary for the maintenance and study of the Centre's 300 camels. Auxiliary facilities include a small housing complex for researchers (now abandoned), a dairy, and the guest house where I currently reside. The Centre lies on a tract of over 600 hectares, maintained for camel grazing as well as for studies of multiple-use silviculture.

The 20-some scientists working here vary widely in their specializations, but a unified theme is the effort to find new uses for the camel in modern times. Traditional communities deep in the desert cannot afford to maintain their camel herds due to environmental degradation and economic changes, but neither can they survive in such an arid climate without the animal's draught capabilities. If the economics of camel ownership can be improved, be it through nutritional changes, modified reproductive practices, new uses, or, most promisingly, milk production, then the camel's importance, and the survival of desert communities, can be assured.

Some of the NRC's pregnant females, whose angst necessitates isolation.

Info on Bikaner, Rajasthan

Bikaner is a small city (600,000 people) near the western edge of Rajasthan, a large arid state on India's border with Pakistan. Founded in 1488, it joined the Mughal Empire by diplomatic accession in 1570. With the advent of British power in the region, the ruling caste of the area (the Rajputs) made a deal to retain their power by becoming a 'princely state' under the Raj. Upon Indian independence, these highly autonomous states came together to form Rajasthan only with the guarantee of 'privy purses' for their rulers. While these stipends as well as many other traditions have faded in the past sixty years, Rajasthan remains one of the least modernized states in India, with a caste system firmly entrenched by centuries of hereditary rule and an economy still highly reliant on traditional ways of life. Bikaner, deep in the Thar desert and several hundred kilometers away from the state's other major population centers, remains a conservative city even by Rajasthani standards.

Impressions of Bikaner

My Rough Guide describes Bikaner as a 'crowded, smog-filled commercial city lacking most of the charm of its desert sister, Jaisalmer' (roughly). These words, along with the condescension of the embassy-types in Delhi, had prepared me for the worst; if this was the best to be said about a place in India (a country famed for its crowds, pollution, and urban uniformity), then what kind of life was I going to be leading?

My impressions have so far been the exact opposite. The streets are relatively clean, the air (especially outside the city) is clear, traditional architecture abounds, there is little desperate poverty, and the lack of a real tourist culture means the locals are much friendlier than elsewhere. So what if there's no towering citadel or spa-ashram-- here's a National Research Centre on Camel!

A brief note on style

In my opinion there is little more tedious than a blog that presumes its readers' interest by flaunting multiple-page postings of intricate and irrelevant detail. For that reason I will hold my entries here to one or two paragraphs. In cases when I feel the need to write more, I will include a pdf at the end of the post.

Reasons to shave, vol. II

Thursday morning I caught a seven hour train southwards to Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan. Although my berth was in the highest class (2-tier AC), an uncommon luxury, I was lucky enough to draw the compartment with malfunctioning AC. This would have been no trouble except that the windows in 2AC don't open, and my pants began to resemble Bihar. As I squirmed, a compartment-mate leaned over to tell me his secret for comfort: "It is simple," he whispered out of respect for the lady across the berth, "you must shave your testicles and then coat them thoroughly with talc." I have found this remedy to be quite effective.

After a five hour layover in Jaipur, I caught an overnight train to Bikaner, arriving at 7:30 AM. I was met by Dr. Sumant Vyas, a Senior Scientist in camel reproduction, who will be my facilitator and academic adviser for the next ten months.

Formalities

Tuesday and Wednesday (26-27 of August) were full days of orientation, arranged by the good folks at the United States-India Educational Foundation. Aside from the normal topics- don't drink the water, don't die, don't drink the water, lock your windows, etc.- we were treated to several seminars on relevant issues such as Indian academic culture and the country's recent economic history. Tuesday night we were feted and introduced to the Fulbright community in Delhi; I was overjoyed at my reintroduction to Kingfisher beer and as a result enjoyed a very good night of sleep.

Here, a photo of those Fulbrighters in attendance at the India gate.

Reasons to shave, vol. I

My last week in the U.S. was spent showing my friend Shoy around Seattle before heading to San Francisco for a last hedonistic bite of America. I came back early on Saturday the 23rd to finish packing before a Sunday flight to Chicago. The other passengers were almost exclusively Washington Army National Guard troops heading to Iraq; needless to say, their year in the desert promises to be even more exciting than mine. My clean-shaven mug, apparently rare in these days of sexy stubble, meant I fit right in, and the unknowing flight attendants extended to me the attention they lavished on the soldiers.

There was a short delay in Chicago before our sunset departure, and 14 hours later we were on final to Delhi. Indira Gandhi International Airport has always been one of my favorites; in between the two main runways there lies the enormous burned-out hulk of an abandoned plane. Stepping off the airway, I was greeted with a 35C blast of humidity. Bharat mein aapka swagat hai.

About this blog

I, Dung Beetle was a phrase that popped into my head during a two-week desert foray I embarked upon the first time I visited Rajasthan in summer 2006. I was at first amused by the hilariously single-minded antics of the dung beetles who were inevitably drawn to our camels any time we stopped for longer than five minutes, but soon the harsh sun, chafed thighs, and bleak prospects of life in the Thar desert led me to envy the insects' fantastic adaptation to aridity. In a pensive post-adolescent mood, I began to wonder just what it was that humans did that was all that different than the lives of the scat-centric dung beetle. These thoughts came together in a paper I wrote that fall, which I'll revise and post in a day or two.

When it became clear that I was to return to Rajasthan, this time to conduct research on the biological aspects of camel herding, the need to stay in touch loomed. Despite the risks of sounding pretentious and being ignored, a blog seemed to be the most prudent option. Contemplating how to go about such a task, the old phrase popped back into my head. This time 'I, Dung Beetle' holds decidedly less cerebral connotations. I've finished my sixteen years of education-- found my ball of shit, if you will-- and now it's time to roll it around in the desert for a while.