Nature Will Come to You: Ranjit Lal's Journey as a Writer

Excerpts from the interview:
Q.Ranjit,you’vebeen writing since the 1990s. How did you first find your way into storytelling and publishing?

A. Well, I never wanted to be a writer from the start. I liked writing, but I wanted to do automobile design and engineering — health issues stopped that. I began writing for TheTimes of India middle column. I had varied interests — natural history, birds, cars — and later, cooking. One of my father’s friends suggested writing a book. It sounded pompous to me, but since I was doing a lot of birding at Bharatpur, ideas started coming.
I began writing Crow Chronicles, my first book. It took two to three years to do one-third, then I pushed myself to finish it in six months. Penguin took it up straight away. After that, I wrote The Life and Times of Altu Faltu, based on monkeys around my Delhi home — they were a nuisance, so I took my revenge by turning people I disliked into monkey characters. The idea was that even if someone recognised themselves, they couldn’t sue, because they’d have to admit they were the monkey.
Then came other subjects — insects, with The Caterpillar Who Went on a Diet; female infanticide with Faces in the Water triggered by a news report from Haryana; and dementia with Our Nana Was a Nutcase, based on my father’s Alzheimer’s.
In nonfiction, I wrote about insects and then, under Jaya’s persuasion, tackled climate change. Initially, I hesitated because of all the doom and gloom. But after reading, I realised many people are doing good work that goes unnoticed. Like the two Balinese sisters, aged 11 and 13, who campaigned successfully to ban plastic bags in Bali.
Q. Over your years of birdwatching and nature walks, what changes have you observed, and what do you hope to keep highlighting through your narratives?
A. We’ll never really get the better of nature. Even in technology, nature is far ahead. For example, scientists studying how lizards grip ceilings discovered they use molecular forces — a kind of natural nanotechnology. Similarly, for a long time, we didn’t understand how insects could fly because conventional aerodynamics said they shouldn’t. Research later showed they created tiny tornadoes with their wings to generate lift.
Nature is endlessly fascinating. Just being out in a forest or by the beach brings a deep calm, even without actively observing anything. I believe we were all born barefoot — that connection to the earth is natural. Every little detail, like how a grasshopper catapults itself or how a butterfly, seemingly flying erratically, still lands perfectly on a flower, is a marvel we often overlook. As a child growing up in Madras with big gardens, I spent my days outside, learning firsthand — which ants to avoid, how frogs behaved, or that fishing in a well with a paperclip was a lost cause. Without the Internet back then, learning came directly from experience.
Today, birdwatching has changed drastically. When I started, it was seen as a strange hobby for idle people — once, police even suggested we should just go to the zoo! Now, thanks to WhatsApp groups and the Internet, birding has exploded. It’s become competitive, with people chasing “lifers” — birds they see for the first time. However, there’s a downside: photographers sometimes disturb birds, especially at nests, leading many groups to ban nest photography. Still, the overall interest in nature has grown massively.
Through my column, I just hope to remind people that you don’t have to visit national parks to experience nature — it’s everywhere. Just yesterday, I found a beautifully striped skunk by the pool. Nature is always close by; you just have to keep your eyes open.
Q. Do you find that your skills as a nature lover and birdwatcher cross-pollinate with your storytelling?
A. Well, yes, one does try to observe as best one can. But over the last few years, I haven’t been birding as much, and you get out of practice. It’s like any sport or musical instrument — you need to practice. A few days ago, I went to a lovely lake, supposed to be a waterfowl paradise. There wasn’t a duck in sight, but plenty of woodland birds. I found myself struggling, not just to identify but even to spot them. I had my Man Friday with me, who’s very good at spotting, but earlier I used to spot them easily myself. Now you’re looking straight at a bird and not seeing it. You must keep at it and get back into the groove — it’s startling to realise you’re hearing but not seeing them because you’re not looking properly.
What interests me more is bird behavior. Like yesterday, there was a peepal or some sort of fig tree in berry. A quartet of koels, like mafiosi, were driving every other bird away. There was enough fruit for every bird in the area, but no coppersmiths or others were around. Then a pair of hornbills joined forces with the koels, refusing to allow any others near the tree…