Under an Undecided Sky

Last Sunday, my wife and I wandered around Hoskote Lake, our own little French studio for the morning. She found the beauty, I captured the moment, and nature painted the rest.

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A soft shimmer stopped us. On closer look, eggs. Leaf beetle, most likely. So deliberate, they looked more placed than laid.

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We didn’t see it at first. Just a ripple in the leaves. Then it moved. Still as sculpture, the mantis watched us with monk-like calm, folded in focus.

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She noticed it before I did. This quiet lady beetle tracing the bamboo with careful steps. We watched together, saying nothing, just following her rhythm.

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A bloom like a blush. Mimosa pudica, the touch-me-not waiting for the world to get too close.

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Touch-me-not, they say. But no one told the jewel bugs, who found each other anyway, right there on the blushing stem.

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We saw a plain tiger butterfly. Wings aglow with the orange of old marigolds, white spots like stories kept for winter. Tattered edges told of travels and brushes with the world, yet it moved with unhurried grace, unburdened by imperfection.

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We followed quietly, careful not to disturb this wandering survivor. Each landing was gentle, almost reverent. Its torn wing trembled, but the butterfly paused anyway, gathering nectar and strength for the next flight.

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And then, the show-stealer, a Green Metallic Sweat Bee. Dressed in emerald, it wobbled across the wild cowpea bloom like it owned the place. It zipped in, dipped deep, pollen stuck everywhere like confetti after a parade.

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Even after the bloom fades and the world moves on, some embraces linger. This tendril never learned to let go and maybe, just maybe, it never wanted to.

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Excuse us.

Private moment happening here. Beetles don’t do dinner and a movie. Just brunch on bamboo and straight to the point.

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Hovering near a bamboo leaf, barely visible at first. We paused to watch an ichneumon wasp because something that precise deserved to be seen.

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It settled for a second, legs barely touching the surface. As if even rest was a calculation.

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We watched quietly as it adjusted its stance, its antennae tracing invisible signals in the air.

For a moment, it stood as still as we did, three creatures, none in a hurry.

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We paused for the customary photo. The camera perched awkwardly on a boulder, its timer blinking.

Behind us, the lake stretched out quietly.

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Ahead, the path curved back toward city sounds.

But for now, it was just us, under an undecided sky. The perfect kind of stillness.

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On our way back, the lilies held us still. One stood alone, serene in its purple bloom. 

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Nearby, a pair floated side by side, lilac and pink, like quiet companions sharing secrets across the water.

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Hoskote doesn’t try to impress, and that’s exactly why it does. If something in this post stayed with you, I’d love to hear it. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.