In the depths of the Indian jungles the tall grass is softly parted by its motions. It comes up almost silently, with only a soft crunch of the dry leaves that litter the ground. A chital swiftly lifts its head from grazing, nostrils flared and ears twitching desperately in an effort to detect any threat. A thick calm moves over the forest and the birds go silent. It bursts through the undergrowth raging through the forest like wildfire. A wild peacock sounds the alarm and the tranquillity is severed and havoc breaks through the grass. A flurry of hooves and beating of feathers bring up the dust and heat. In the sun’s light there is a bright flash of ruby as rapid as lightning. And suddenly there is silent in the forest again.