I walk onto the terrace and look toward the setting sun. The day is delicious. The sun is red. When I put my hands into the pockets of my pants, I feel something in the left one. It feels strange. The best I can gather from the way it feels is that it is a clump of cloth. How did it get into my pocket, though? I pull the clump out with my left hand and find a mangled insect between my fingers. Judging by its striped black-and-yellow belly, it is a wasp of some kind, but it has a longer and thinner body than a typical wasp. What is it doing in my pocket? To the best of my understanding, it is a female looking for a safe place to lay its eggs. As it turns out, my left pocket is far from safe. When I toss the squashed insect over the parapet of the terrace into the garden below, I remember the Jains of old. For fear of harming any living being, they did not wear any clothing. My deep pockets would make them shudder. And rightly so, for they look like deadly traps.