Boarding with a batrachian

I love these new words, like glamping.  An oxymoron was merely courtship—words of opposing meaning sitting demurely side by side; their unexpected juxtaposition provoking a closer look, a smile.  But here we have consummation. And new progeny. Glamorous plus camping. The offspring is far removed from its parents. After all, how could one possibly succeed in being glamorous while crouching over poky grass to pee, all the while terrified of creepy crawlies underfoot or of being sighted by a co-camper, God forbid!

I love the word and the concept. The idea that I can now enjoy being one with nature without giving up that most important of creature comforts – a fully fitted bathroom. We can now have the cake and eat it too.

Long before glamping was on the menu, I recall a memorable visit to Bandipur. Lodges operated by the forest service department were recommended as a good option. We knew that ‘budget’ meant basic but had not pictured the accommodation’s primaeval bathrooms. Clearly human occupants had used them sparingly for a long time, given their condition, so other species had taken over.

In our unit this included a giant toad. A middle-of-the-night bathroom excursion was daunting as it was, but the prospect of encountering an extra-large amphibian en route made it quite unthinkable!  So it was decided to put the mouldy bathroom bucket to good use and safely confine the creature underneath. Not the best choice for the poor frog, forced to forgo dinner while we caught a few winks.  

Meantime our own dinner arrived in a battered aluminium tiffin carrier. Its simple contents were consumed sitting in the lodge’s small enclosed verandah, gazing at the glinting eyes of grazing deer. The delivery boy had instructed us strictly to remain indoors and to keep the verandah lights switched off. Outside it was pitch dark and surprisingly noisy. Forest nightlife was pulsating. Snuggled in our four-poster, behind two sets of closed doors, our refuge felt impenetrable. The night passed uneventfully, save buzzing mosquitoes that skilfully breached the bed’s protective canopy.  

Day starts early in the wild, even before the sun heralds its arrival. Synchronised with these rhythms, we woke before daybreak to set out on a safari. Morning ablutions were hurried as no one lingered in the bathroom, even though the upturned bucket proclaimed safety.

There was also a sense of guilt, and we couldn’t wait to release our unfortunate prisoner. Standing as far back as possible and leaning dangerously forward, I quickly flipped the bucket. I tried not to imagine what I would do if the frog hopped towards me, its massive size and mottled brown colour etched in my mind. 

The bucket tipped... And I froze. Where was the frog? To this day the mystery remains unsolved, and I still shudder (and laugh) recalling my one-night stand with a Bandipur batrachian.