Monkeys Out; Snakes In

“Vaalu (tail) poi, Kathi (knife) vanthathu Dum Dum …”  Kathi poi Viraku (firewood) vanthathu Dum Dum…,’ then Dosai; Earthern pot, till the chameleon ends up getting a Drum. It goes about merrily beating it and singing thus. 

That is among the umpteen rhymes and stories that my grandma used to tell us while she relaxed in the front yard in the late evenings to enjoy gentle breeze. We siblings fought for turns to rest on her lap and listen to her. 

In a somewhat similar vein, there has been a systematic intrusion, if not invasion, of animals, from our Thurahalli tiny animal kingdom.  First the leopard did rounds sending shockwaves to the peace-loving SFVians. The Forest officials, sitting in the comforts of their office, reassured us, ‘not to worry’, that this species kept changing its habitat frequently and would move soon to some other hunting ground. Sannatta chhaya hua tha during that short span, though. Even the peacocks which used to start their day in the wee hours with gay abandon calling their comrades in arms to join them stopped this for fear of being hunted.  

Then came the monkeys – now an annual fare. They are still here, probably on the last lap, for the younger ones to get hands-on training. Nonetheless, we shall safeguard our inventory of vegetables and fruit, more so the mangoes - the last crop of the season.

Now the reptiles have taken over. The other day a resident wrote that she spotted a long snake passing through Gate-1 and asking everyone, the kids especially, to be careful while passing by.

Last week it was the turn of a five-feet cobra to show up, near Gate-3. Its movement lacked swiftness - either it had just gobbled something for breakfast (though no symptomatic bulge inside), or, as someone rightly reported, he was sick. Regardless, the video was scary.

This spot where the cobra was negotiating its escape has some special significance for me. It is here that I used to wait for my taxi at Gate-3. And the guard would graciously offer me his chair. Hereafter I will be sure to move the chair a little further to provide ample space for the reptile just in case he decides to re-visit the spot. You never know. Psychologists say that when a person commits a crime, he makes it a point to visit the crime site later. Here the snake might not have committed any crime per se, but he might re-visit the place from where the snake-catchers so kindly provided him the great escape to his habitat.

The hullaballoo over after the snake-catcher swiftly got the reptile sneak into his bag, the senior morning walkers rejoined their respective Rajadhatri, Vidyarthi Bhavan, A2B, or Krishna Dwaraka groups, as they are called.  Yes, each group frequented these restaurants at least once a week, more to disallow their cars from refusing to start. 

In the chat that ensued for the rest of the rounds, some shared their encounters with the snakes. Instead of the age-old style, “Once upon a time…,’ each started thus: “When I was in Meghalaya….’  only to be interrupted a moment before the climax by another. “Oh my God, when I was passing through Agumbe…,” with yet another taking over… ‘When I was on a field trip to Nilambur forest…’  each trying to be one up. The few who did not have a story to narrate resigned themselves to just being listeners, for a change.

The group dispersed in different directions - one for a haircut of what the hairdresser can hopefully trace, one to the flower-hawker, yet another to Ratnadeep to buy a bunch of Yelakki bananas for our Vedic chant he was hosting that day, while one headed to the lift praying that at least one lift be in working condition. 

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