Maggot food

The privilege was a rare one, to walk in the restricted areas within the heart of the forest with a seasoned range officer. The air outside was thick. He smelled damp earth, leaves, and fear. The officer had shared a story of another officer who wrestled a bear, losing an eye and his face a week ago.

They drove through the bumpy forest roads in a Thar, halted at a spot, and then continued to walk to an area where a veterinarian doctor observed a fallen female elephant, chaos of the mating season. He had a very short glimpse of the postmortem. The stench was unbearable, almost making him puke. Seeing the half-eaten body of a huge elephant with bones sticking out was no joke. There were maggots and flies all over the place. He observed from a distance.

As they walked back, fear gripped him. This was a tiger reserve; there could be a rogue bull elephant on the prowl, or venomous snakes waiting for prey. He paced through to the safety of the vehicle with a realization that, in the end, we are all just maggot food.