Heart-rending 25 hours of marathon basking, beating rain, clouds, and sunshine by a Bengal monitor

The Bengal Monitor (Varanus bengalensis) is a common sight in Bangladesh. Locally, it's called "Gui" (often misheard as "Guishap") or "Kalagodi." Its larger cousin, known as the Ramgodi, Asian Water Monitor, or Ringed Lizard (Varanus salvator), can also be spotted, while the countryside variant is called the Yellow Monitor or Shunagui (Varanus flavescens).

Their family, possibly descendants of those who lived here around 2006, has made the wall of the National Botanical Garden at Mirpur its safe habitat. Located near our family house, Kurvi Neer, this spot has become a landmark. From our balcony, we often observe these fascinating creatures.

Lately, rain has been a daily companion. As cold-blooded animals, monitors cannot regulate their body temperature the way birds or mammals can. Typically, they bask in sunlight or on cloudy days in open areas to warm their bodies enough for movement, hunting, or scavenging.

Yesterday, I spotted the largest of the three monitors near Kurvi Neer, basking on a log in the garden. Even at 6pm, it was still there, winding down for the night. In the meantime, we had some showers followed by drizzle. Surprisingly, the "Mutu Gui," as our grandkids affectionately call it (meaning "fat monitor"), didn't move a muscle! By 9pm, it was still fast asleep, its grainy skin dotted with raindrops. I wondered if this was its "dying wish," preparing to leave the world.

Mutu Monitor on 23 August 2025 - he has just changed position of its tail

We discussed it as a family and decided to check on it the next morning. When I opened the balcony door, I found it in the same spot, still unmoving. A wave of fear washed over me, thinking it might have passed away.

Throughout the day, rain came and went—ranging from light drizzles to heavy downpours. Yet, the Mutu remained completely still. Around noon, there was a brief period of sunlight, and I saw two other members of the Mutu family basking separately just a few meters apart. When a heavy downpour followed, the two others disappeared into the vegetation, but the Mutu remained unfazed.

Mutu on the 2nd day afternoon when he left the sunning post on a horizontal log and lying flat on his tummy

The 3rd Monitor on the 23rd of August basking on semi-dry ground vegetation

Around 2pm, the Mutu finally moved. With a slow, majestic, rhythmic motion, it descended from the log and lay flat on the ground cover. I sighed with relief—it wasn't dead, just in its royal resting mode.

I decided to take a nap. When I woke up around 4pm, the Mutu was still lying there, its large belly exposed. Just before 5pm, it walked a few meters and disappeared into the thick ground cover.

Big Monitor Mutu is finally moving towards ground cover in the late afternoon on the 23rd of August

I was finally at ease. The Mutu was alive and well, perhaps having skipped a meal or simply indulged in a heavy one the day before. It seemed to be enjoying the rain, clouds, and a little sunshine!

According to an online weather update, Dhaka's forecast for yesterday (23 August 2025) was:

• Precipitation: 45%
• Humidity: 90%
• Wind: 16 km/h
• Scattered thunderstorms (though they didn't materialize)
• Temperature: 27-29°C

Even when climbing tree Monitor keeps flicking bifid tongues to get the chemical markers, left on the ground and right climbing a tree for hiding

This morning, our longtime companion, Nabil, spotted a fourth monitor, a young one of two years old. While only one of its older family members basked for over an hour, the young one moved through the ground cover stealthily, flicking its bifid tongue every now and then. These tongue tips carry chemical signals from the air and objects around its path. When the tongue is pulled back into its mouth, Jacobson's organs on the upper inner surface of the mouth receive these chemical signals and relay them to the brain, which decides in milliseconds whether the objects around are living creatures or carcasses. The monitor hunts by sight and by gathering scents from the air and surroundings. Only snakes share this feature, with their bifid tongue tips.

The young monitor, about three-quarters of a meter long, spent over an hour frantically searching for food, gathering worms and insects along the way. It then began climbing a nearby tree and eventually vanished from sight. This explains why I rarely see fourth or baby monitors, other than the three larger ones. Adult monitors are known to eat smaller or baby monitors, so the young ones spend more time in trees, hiding in tree hollows or old nests of parakeets, barbets, and woodpeckers. They only come down to the ground to hunt for food.

Basking areas of Mutu Gui and its relatives in the National Botanical Garden by the Kurvi Neer

My wife Nazu, Nabil, and I enjoyed watching the brisk activity of the little monitor. We were glad to see it safely perched on a tree when the three adults were busy hunting in the vegetation, as a lull in the near-constant rain allowed the young one to emerge.