Hey friends,
Greetings from Bangalore, India!
I strolled along the beach in Kozhikode, Kerala. I’ve been visiting that beach for as long as I can remember. I looked at the green ocean as the crusty air left a salty taste in my mouth. My feet sank into the wet sand with each step.
The pebbled shoreline was mired with inlets where seawater flows through. The constancy of the waves breaking on the rocks created a rhythmic splashing sound that threatened to lull you to sleep. On the sand, a group of boys played football. Two coconuts were placed at the goalposts as they ran around in the sand.
Anyone who has been to a beach in India will find it replete with crabs. These shellfish scuttle away as your feet hit the warm, damp sand. They lurk in the crevices of rocks that line ports and parts of the shore.
Peering over the harbour, I scoured the rocks for these tiny buggers.
I found one soon enough, nestled under a piece of driftwood. It was perfectly still, not even flinching as I stepped in close.
I love it when I get a cooperative subject to photograph. I can take my time to set up a shot, considering the surroundings, lighting and so on. The sun was right overhead, but the crab was hidden in the shadow of the driftwood. Since it was not moving, I decided to wait until the sun passed over. I placed my bag near the creature and sat down.
Soon, my thoughts carried my gaze away from the crab, and in no time, I was lost in a daydream.
I must have been daydreaming for at least ten minutes when my throat began to clam up. The itchiness snapped me out of my dream, and I began begging for a sip of water. So I turned and reached for my bottle from my bag.
The crab was still there, not having moved an inch. But weirdly enough, the crab looked different. Had it grown bigger?
That’s when I saw it. Something was emerging from the back of the crab. It had a hue entirely different from the rest of the crab’s body.
The crab was moulting. It was leaving its former exoskeleton for a new one as it was still growing.
Crabs, like all crustaceans, live with a hard exoskeleton. These shells do not expand, so they must regularly shed them. Beaches and the sea floor are littered with thousands of old shells.
So that’s why the crab hadn’t scampered away when I approached. It had begun moulting and had no choice but to remain still and complete the process.
For the next few minutes, the lapping waves were interrupted with ‘ohs’ and ‘wows’ from me as the crab fully arose from its prior shell. Bizarrely, I could see life leave the eyes of the shell as the crab pulled out. It took on a glazed look, not unlike that of a dead creature.
Once out, the crab wasted no time hurrying back into the surf. With one wave, it was gone. All that remained was its exoskeleton, perched under that driftwood.
What a poetic scene. Don’t we all shed a part of ourselves while moving through life?
Picking it up, I could see the form from which it had egressed. The insides were slimy from the natural lubricant the animal used to ease itself out of the casing. Delicately, I placed it back. Then I walked on as the boys kicked the football into the sunset.
Postcard
Found this cute elephant sculpture that I had to share.
Favourite Quote
At a time when the right idea presented the right way can ripple across the world at the speed of light, spawning copies of itself in millions of minds, there’s huge benefit to figuring out how best to set it on its way, both for you, the speaker-in-waiting, and for the rest of us who need to know what you have to say. - Chris Anderson
Have a creative, wild and inspiring week!
If you’re new, welcome to The Owlet! My name is Ishan Shanavas, and I am an Artist, Photographer, Writer and Student of the Natural World.
Here I talk about my work, along with curating the most interesting ideas on the internet. I confine them to topics like Nature, Culture, Photography, and Art but often fall prey to other genres.
I would greatly appreciate it if you shared my newsletter and work with your friends. It really helps me out :)
“What a poetic scene. Don’t we all shed a part of ourselves while moving through life?”
Beautiful Ishan. I once saw a video online of a crab mounting and it was like 10 minutes long. I was transfixed and couldn’t look away.
A snake sheds its skin, a tree sheds its bark. As Rick M point out above, we humans do this continuously, unconsciously. When we don’t, like the snake and the tree, we suffocate.
Thank you for this lovely essay.
The real question is: how many times in life must we molt (or reinvent ourselves)? Seems like both a continual process but also one that doesn’t always come along regularly