Crime Today News
The police jeep was right behind them. The policemen jumped out and marched smartly into the zoo. Normally, the zoo was a busy place, with crowds of chattering people. But today, a deep hush filled the premises. The occasional hoots and chirps of birds sounded and sudden grunts echoed. Kumaran watched the policemen melt away among the trees.
Then the zoo erupted into confusion. Bangs sounded. Then came whimpers and roars and a long wailing scream that was very human. There was an urgent flapping of birds and dull thuds as heavy bodies slammed against the bars of the cage. Kumaran stood listening, wishing he could run in and save the animals from a death they didn’t deserve.
Since January 1942, Pulla Reddi had been writing to other zoos, asking if they had room for some animals. Some zoos had asked for more time while others had not bothered to reply. Erode Zoo finally agreed to house the animals. But the railways were busy and could not transport the animals and so they stayed on in Madras.
Then a policeman came out, holding a list. “These are the animals we have…” he said. But Kumaran wasn’t listening. He was still thinking of the terrible things that had just happened inside the zoo. He nodded though, as if he had heard everything the policeman had said and took the paper. Their work was done and the policemen marched out of the zoo.
Kumaran stood alone. Gradually, the zoo fell silent. In the stillness, Kumaran heard soft sounds. He heard someone whispering and the gentle shuffle of movement.
Kumaran was suddenly violently angry. He had had enough of people spying and being secretive. So, he ran into the zoo, past cages where dead animals lay in pathetic huddles, through a knot of trees, and there, he stopped. There were three men there. One was leading an elephant and the others held large bags that bulged and twisted.
“I know you!” Kumaran shouted. “You have been spying on us and sweeping the room and reading our papers. And now… what are you doing?”
“Saving the elephant,” one of them said.
The bag in his hands twisted violently and a snarl sounded. “And that?” Kumaran demanded. “I suppose that’s an elephant too!”
“No,” they said. “That’s a wolf and there’s a fox in the other bag.”
“Why do they have to be saved?” Kumaran asked.
“Because otherwise you…your people will decide they are dangerous and kill them!” the other man said. Kumaran knew they were right. He thought of the black and gold heap he had seen in a cage just now. That was a tiger. Or at least, it had been a tiger full of roaring life just a little while ago. But it was dead now and no one could save it.
He looked at the three men. A wolf and a fox? Something about those words rang a bell. Kumaran looked at the list the policeman had given him. Item 6 was an Indian wolf and item 12 was a fox. Neither of these had a tick against it. So, that’s what the policeman had been telling him – that some animals had not been shot because they had not been found. They had not been in their cages because… “You stole them!” he realised. “You stole those animals.”
“No,” the men said, shaking their heads. “These are our animals.”
“Your animals?” Kumaran repeated. “No, these belong to the zoo and…”
“They belong to us, to our jungles,” the men said.
“Where are you from?” Kumaran demanded.
“Narsapuram,” they said. Kumaran wasn’t at all surprised.
“Why are you rescuing the zoo animals?” he asked.
In return they asked him, “Where do you think these animals came from?”
They then told him that years ago, when the museum was set up, an appeal had been made to send the small objects the villagers had recovered from the countryside.
“They wanted the treasures we found in the fields – statues and coins and bits of pots,” the men told him. So, the villagers had sent whatever they found and these were displayed in the museum.
“Then,” they told him, “it was time to set up a zoo. And again, an appeal was made, but for animals this time.”
“So, you sent animals,” Kumaran guessed and they nodded.
aWhen the museum was set up in Madras in 1851, Edward Balfour wrote to people, asking for donations of things that could be displayed. Around 1,000 items a month were sent to the museum. So, when it was time to set up the zoo, Balfour used the same technique!
“But these can’t be the animals you sent all those years ago!” he exclaimed.
They were not. “These are the children and grandchildren of our Narsapuram animals,” they told him. “And we don’t just give animals away. We watch over them!”
“So that’s why there are so many people from Narsapuram in the office,” Kumaran guessed, and they nodded. These men sent regular updates about the animals to their village. “And they mentioned war in one of those letters,” Kumaran said slowly, working things out. “So, you came to protect your animals!”
It seemed fantastic to think that people had travelled hundreds of kilometres just to take care of animals. Now their job was done and it was time for them to leave.
“What about the statues and pottery and coins in the museum?” Kumaran asked. “Are you taking those, too?”
They were not. “But that is treasure,” Kumaran said. “And those items…they are worth a lot of money.”
“They are,” the men agreed. “But an animal is skin and fur and breath. And when it is gone, it does not return. That makes it a greater treasure. That’s just the Narsapuram way!”
Kumaran watched them gently urge the elephant through the trees. The branches shivered and shook. Then they fell silent.
Excerpted with permission from Mules That Fall From the Sky and Other Stories of Animals in War, Nandini Nayar, illustrated by Ira Nagar, Scholastic India.
📰 Crime Today News is proudly sponsored by DRYFRUIT & CO – A Brand by eFabby Global LLC
Design & Developed by Yes Mom Hosting
