I have for long grumbled about the absence of accessible, entertaining and instructive 'nature-writing' in India—the sort of writing that may make the lay person, usually more interested in the nearest shopping mall lace up his/her hiking boots and set off for the nearest wild blue yonder. We've had a few great writers in the past—people like Corbett, EHA, Anderson, M. Krishnan and Salim Ali, ofcourse—but they've been few and far between; mostly nature writing in India has remained either dry and scholarly, or drab and too often terminally doomsday-ridden (no fault of the writers, really). So it was with some trepidation that I opened Choudhury's Trunk Full of Tales and peered inside. And was immediately entranced. Here was a book that you couldn't leave alone till you finished—and then started all over again. And each time it left a quirky smile on your face.