A vortex opened up in the tree, and Garuda flew out with the broken branch in his beak, the elephant and the turtle still in his claws. He didn’t know where to go. He sensed that he was in danger of making a fatal mistake. From the branch came a hiss. At first he thought it was the wind. But the hissing went on, peremptory and fearfully shrill. He looked at the twigs. Upside down among the leaves, like bats, dangled scores of brahmans, each no taller than the phalanx of a thumb. Their bodies were perfectly formed and almost transparent, like flies’ wings.
from Ka: Stories of the Mind and Gods of India, by Roberto Calasso