Hindustan Times ST (Mumbai) - Live
On the butterfly trail, from Mumbai to Thane
With a butterfly forest in his backyard now, the writer is all set to give wings to a dream project
MUMBAI: A Baron butterfly uncurled its neon green proboscis and began sipping moisture from the artificial turf of the Mumbai Hockey Association stadium, which is behind Churchgate station. It was a morning of November 2017. I had walked from Flora Fountain to Churchgate, taking pictures of the stumps of old fig trees, among others, felled for the Metro III project, and of trees that were marked to death with a red cross but saved by determined residents of the area, for a photo-essay that I had pitched to the editors of the newspaper I worked with at the time.
At Churchgate, I teamed up with a colleague, a sports reporter, to shoot pictures for his hockey story, when the Baron distracted me from the job at hand. Thinking of the felled fig trees, on which the ubiquitous Common Crow butterfly lays eggs, I wondered on which mango tree – which is the egglaying tree (larval host) of the Baron – this individual must have eaten its way out of its egg shell as a caterpillar; munched on mango leaves in the nights; laid still and hidden in plain sight during the days, spine aligned with the midrib of the leaf; turned into a leaf-green quadrangular pupa; and then emerged out of it to take its first flight.
As I write this sitting next to the window, a jamun and a pair of mango trees in my view, a Baron butterfly has just flown past. From ‘tree-less’ Mohammed Ali Road, I have just moved to Thane, to a township where trees are abundant, festivities are understated and birdsong dominates the soundscape.
Maharashtra’s state butterfly, the Blue Mormon, now floats below my fourth-floor window, around the potted nectar plants that I brought along, and also attracted to lemon and other citrus plants growing in building compounds, on which it lays eggs. The elusive Blue Oakleaf also zips past the window, flashing the metallic greenish blue of its upperside just once or twice, before disappearing into the foliage. Wings shut, it masquerades as a dry, decaying leaf to the T: midrib, veins, blotches—the works.
Spotting the Blue Oakleaf and Mormon was out of the question in South Mumbai. I would take a cab to Churchgate station, a train to Borivali, a rickshaw to the gate of the Sanjay Gandhi National Park (SGNP), and then a shared cab to the entrance of the Kanheri caves. I would climb above the caves – if I caught a glimpse of the two big Blues, I would call it a worthwhile trip. If I got pictures, that would be a bonus! These two butterflies now flash past my window not just because of the trees and plants in the township, but because the forest (the Yeoor range of SGNP) is less than a mile away as the crow flies.
As a photographer, I am interested in urban nature, in making pictures that show the two worlds interacting. Off Marine Drive, at low tide, I have photographed colourful sponge gardens juxtaposed with the tall buildings of Nariman Point; and at Chowpatty, venomous jellyfish strewn on the sand, with couples walking barefoot. Alas, I can’t get a Blue Oakleaf with the CST building in the background.
It is not as if South Mumbai is poor in butterflies. I have been enjoying and documenting butterflies for a decade in city gardens, and also in the busiest business and residential neighbourhoods: Palmfly butterflies fluttering around cut pineapples and papayas on ‘fruit plate’ stalls in khau gallis; Tailed Jay caterpillars feeding on roadside saplings of the false Ashoka tree, splattered with paan spit; and hundreds of Red Pierrots completing their life-cycles on my windowsill.
When the pandemic struck and the national park and city gardens were shut, I tried inviting butterflies home, to my eighth-floor window, off Mohammed Ali Road. I brought home the larval host plants of four species that are very common in Mumbai: a false Ashoka sapling for the Tailed and Common Jays, a curry leaf plant for the Common Mormon, and two Kalanchoe plants for the tiny Red Pierrot. None were enticed, except the Red Pierrot, which became a regular visitor. The Kalanchoe plants were almost completely devoured several times, but survived and revived, to be devoured by a fresh batch of hungry Red Pierrot caterpillars all over again. I photographed every stage of the lifecycle – the butterflies coming to lay eggs; the caterpillars boring into the succulent leaves, and then eating and pooping inside, leaving the outer, see-through layers of the leaves intact; the caterpillars turning into pupae on the undersides of the leaves and also on my window grille; and finally, the butterflies emerging from the pupae – against the theatrical backdrop of unplanned towers sprouting over chock-a-block low-rises.
Living in a city far away from a natural habitat like a forest, one can only study the generalists – species that are non-fussy about their diet and habitat requirements. To observe and photograph forest butterflies, I have been making Saturday trips to Borivali and Thane for many years. Often, I have even carried overripe fruits to lure and photograph the rarities and royals among butterflies – the Indian and Anomalous Nawabs; the Black and Tawny Rajahs; the rare, flashy, Gaudy Baron; and of course, my muse, the Blue Oakleaf – for they almost never visit flowers. They have personalities, preferences and eccentricities. They descend on offensive buffets of dead crabs and leopard poop. The Rajahs, Nawabs and Emperors have been given regal names for their majestic appearance. The paradox that they stoop to feed on carcasses and excrement has fascinated entomologists for centuries. English entomologist, botanist and writer, Edward Newman (1801 – 1876), writing about the Purple Emperor, wondered why “a creature so gloriously refulgent with purple, should condescend to feed on filth and putrefaction, instead of feasting on ambrosial pollen and quaffing nectar.” British naturalist and writer, Matthew Oates, hosts the Purple Emperor’s breakfast, as a contemporary art event, also shown on TV. On the menu are prawns, pickled mudfish, crushed grapes, blackened rotten bananas, horse manure, fox poop and shrimp paste.
I am yet to know our Rajahs and Nawabs as intimately as Oates knows the Purple Emperor. To be able to do that, Saturday trysts are not enough. A half-complete dream project sitting in my hard drive has tantalised me for long. With the butterfly forest now my backyard, I have resolved to give it wings, and release it in the world of words and colours.
AS A PHOTOGRAPHER, I AM INTERESTED IN URBAN NATURE, IN MAKING PICTURES THAT SHOW THE TWO WORLDS INTERACTING.