The Great Pachyderms of Dubare

I wake up to the melodious call of the whistling thrush. This medium sized black bird seems to be an enigma to bird lovers. As it’s call glides through the dense foliage, one is struck by the living embodiment of un-spoilt nature at its best. Listening to this elusive bird is soothing to the soul & echoes across the dense canopy of the deciduous forest.

Our bedroom window stares directly at the thick impenetrable branches of the fruit bearing berry trees. There’s a cacophony of birdcalls in the early morning hours.

As the first rays gently touch the fringes of the tall perennial trees, the roosting avians restlessly converge into a combination of tones contextually conflicting with one another.

The coppersmith is unfazed by the others & relentlessly continues with its staccato call. I get fleeting glimpses of barbets, jungle babblers, flycatchers, parakeets, flower peckers & robins. The gentle breeze lulls the spirit & I sit mesmerized in the balcony trying to figure out one bird from the other. This is a heaven for bird watchers & I sip my morning cuppa happily trying to recognise the various birds.

On today’s itinerary is the Dubare elephant camp in the first half of the day. An opportunity of a lifetime awaits me : mingling with the great asian pachyderms & a chance to give them a good scrub as they enjoy their morning bath.

The Dubare elephant camp is situated about 45kms from Madikeri in Karnataka where I have my base camp. Madikeri is in the Coorg district & a more populous place than the other towns in the Coorg region. I had gone to Mangalore & hence took a cab from there to cover the 132 kms distance to Madikeri.

Across from the river Cauvery in Kodagu in the Coorg District, the Dubare Elephant camp is accessible either by a ferry or a walk through the river from the shallow segment of the water body.

My adrenalin begins to flow on seeing the elephants waddle in the river water & I head straight towards a matriarch called Malathi. She’s forty & amongst the mature occupants of the camp. There are about 14 elephants in all including 2 adolescents & one baby elephant called Parshuram.

Parshu is a naughty darling & nonchalantly ignores commands given by his mahout in his playfulness. He’s extremely intelligent too coz he recognizes his mahout’s moods judging his authoritative decibels & yields to being utterly subservient when confronted.

Malathi is another story. She appears an epitome of patience & wisdom. She stares at me as I flip her large flapped ears & reach out & scrub behind them. She seems to respond delightfully as she adjusts positions to give me access to the most comfortable part that needs a good scrub. This gentle giant intently listens as I softly speak to her as I scrub, splash, squish, splosh, slosh & again scrub. Her luminous long lashed beautifully emotive eyes seem to understand that I mean well.

I keep reminding myself that these are wild animals & yet there is this connection with Malathi. She seems to tolerate my presence with such ease that I feel blessed.

After the bath, the pachyderm’s head to the feeding corner & the Homo Sapiens are herded to witness the feeding. A concoction of barley & other cereals is molded into large chunks & the elephants are fed a couple of these huge pinkish edible balls.

I had befriended Malathi’s mahout, Ananda a scraggy underweight man with rough unkempt curly hair. He immoderately exceeds the appropriate bounds & spells out our friendships monetary value, which I shamelessly relent to. After all, he’s my ticket to being close to Malathi.
He stealthily brings two pieces of jaggery when the others have moved away & places them in my palm to feed the two mammoth’s who are eagerly sniffing the air as they smell their favourite snack. In two neat swipes, the jaggery disappears into the abyss that is capable of tucking in non-stop.

The feeding over, we are again herded towards a naturalist from the forest department who has a patiently standing elephant in tow. He explains the various aspects of elephant ecology & history. The average life span of an elephant is 70 years & the matriarchs & their calves live & wander together in herds.

The elephant is one of the few species in the animal kingdom where the male has to be in mast & female in heat to copulate. When in mast, the male secretes a foul smelling substance from a gland between its eyes & ears. This smell announces to the female elephants in the vicinity of the male tusker’s condition.

After some weird FAQ’s by some over enthusiastic tourists, the by now bored naturalist excused himself & leaves us with two options. Go for an elephant ride or twiddle our thumbs for the next one hour counting the number of datura shrubs growing in the nearby environs.

I opt to count the thorn apple shrubs from the back of an elephant & head towards the elevated platform which is used to climb on to the elephant backs reducing any chances of unceremonious happenings.

One gets the feel of a Maharaja..err…Maharani, riding these elephants. It’s slow gait sways the occupants on its back like a slow moving pendulum. The ride over, its time to say good-bye to these great lovable beasts. I choose to traverse the Cauvery on my way back on foot through the sparsely flowing route.

After our activity manager is satisfied doing the head count we head back to Madikeri to our resort to spend the later half of the day luxuriating in man made comforts.

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006

Toiling to make those extra bucks!

Looks like you need a back rub….Maaa. Your shoulder muscles look tense.

My daughter could see me stretch my limbs (something I do to ease the lesion that I had developed being on the comp for long hours). Is this a picture of divine concern or a way to earn a few extra bucks? I ponder.

Me : What’s the damage’s if I allow you to give me one? (one needs to know if the said proposition is affordable in the first place).

She : Well…not much. After all it’s my mum I’m catering to. I shall indeed have to give you a discount (she reasons philosophically). Rs 10/- if you want to experience total contentment & bliss.

I muse. This young lady is definitely improving her business skills. The damn shoulder is crying to be nursed as well…so I give in. Like a true professional, she interrogates about the exact position where it hurts the most & goes about rubbing lotion in circular motions. Nimble fingers soothe the conjugated muscles & she leaves the bedroom with a triumphant Rs10/- muttering something like …I’m off for my next assignment.

In a couple of minutes, I notice her polishing my dad’s leather bag that’s being readied for his impending trip. She happily looks up, a tiny black smudge on her right cheek, proudly pronouncing that she’s going to earn another tenner from this task.

I wonder what’s up with this kid? The computer games & cartoons have taken a back seat. She’s on an enterprising trip to getting rich quickly. Strange!

These days every chore has a price tag attached.

A trip to the bank – Rs 5/-
Chop/peel the veggies – Rs 5/-
Polish shoes – Rs 5/-
Feet rub – again bifurcation . Rs 5/- for 15 mins & Rs10/- for 20 mins( bewildered I try to reason that she should charge Rs 10/- for half hour abiding by the math I have learnt at school). She sticks to her gun…20 mins it shall be. It’s your loss if you do not accept this proposition.
Neat bedroom – Rs 5/-
Books arranged in their rightful shelves – Rs 5/-
Trip to the grocery – Rs 5/-

I mention to my mum about this engagement with commerce tide that has swept over my daughter. Gone are the good ole days I reminisce when we did the same chores for pittance. Mum points out that we didn’t carry the burden to buy our mum a gift on mother’s day those days as well.

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006

Kya tanhai kabhi kaat-ti hai apko?

These days I’m attending a Radio & TV Workshop & mingling with people of different chronological age. Most of them are a few summers younger than me. We interact as a group, rehearse our scripts & pass opinions in an endeavor to help each other better our respective performances. There exists a camaraderie that diminishes the divide of age/gender/ethnic background, religion, class etc

As we get to know one another, my mates were pleasantly surprised that I had a daughter. Pratt came the question from a member…what does your husband do?

Well…. I don’t have one…said me.
Huh? What does that mean…said she.
I’m a divorcee, so technically I’m single…but do have a lovely daughter.
Oh! That’s sad…Kya tanhai kaat-ti hai apko kabhi?
I answer her question with another quirky one & let it go….but it’s at the back of my mind this evening.

It’s been long…very long since I have traversed that path. Have preferred to bury the past in some deep crevice of my brain & unconsciously wiped off the happy memories that connected my ex-husband & me. I draw a blank when I try to remember the most ecstatic moment that we had together….I’m sure there were quite a few.

Coming back to the afternoon’s question…does the loneliness get under your skin? I ponder. What is loneliness? Why do we associate a widow or divorcee to sadness…frustration…desperation...unhappiness?

Yes, I was lonely. Terribly lonely. A long time ago in the prime of my youth. There I was…married & representing a picture happy portrait of a blessed family life. But the truth was that I was alone. The loneliness started gradually as his drinking escalated.

We went to silent dinners. I remember this incident when the man sitting diagonally opposite to us was suddenly beaten up mercilessly by my ex because he was getting a little too interested in me (is my ex’s version of the story). It pained me that he was sensitive enough to observe who was taking a shine for me…but didn’t see the emptiness that stared back at him across the table. That is loneliness.

We had a fight over his drinking binges. The next day our phone rang the entire day. Calls from our relatives & friends wishing & blessing me on my birthday. I would talk loudly in my immature attempt to draw his attention to this occasion so he could wish me. Both of us adamant not to give in. Me justifying my stance reasoning it’s my day & his prerogative to wish me. Well…that didn’t happen. Another silent dinner & our backs facing one another as we slept that night. That is loneliness.

The trips to the gynaecologist for the routine pregnancy check-ups were most of the times either with my mother or my mother-in-law. That is loneliness.

The pregnancy spilled the hormones all over the place & made me terribly weepy. Pregnant for the first time, I looked for love & affection with a lot of pampering from my husband as I dreamt would happen. Most of the nights, a full-blown pregnant me, would stand all night at the window anxiously awaiting his return. Every little sound the lift made descending & ascending in the quite of the night made me run to the door to look though the peep hole anticipating his return. That is loneliness.

The labour pains lasted a grueling 18 hours. It’s god gift that one forgets the intensity of the pain as time passes. What I do remember is that it made me feel that I might die. I had never experienced something of this intensity & magnitude before. The entire family (his & mine put together) stayed put anxiously at the hospital the entire day & night. My eye’s searched for him. He came at regular intervals to check on the developments fully sozzeled. It infuriated me to see the lack of concern & disconnect. Looking back I realize…probably it was his weakness. He was too weak to face a situation without a boost from a drink. That was loneliness.

The last holiday we had together. He was trying hard to stay sober. Said the right things at the right moments. We were having a wonderful time, which made me believe in the tiny ray of hope that I could see emanating through the dark unrelenting wall that had come in between us. He suddenly disappears & comes back after a few hours drunk & apologetic. That is loneliness.

Trying times had left their cruel mark on me. I was angry at the slightest provocation, sulking & trying to find fault in anything that spelt happiness.

The turning point was some talk show I was watching that discussed the importance of loving oneself. Putting your own self first & how when one feels happy & content with themselves…the rest automatically falls in place. THAT…was as eye opener. I realized how I used to read my ex’s star sign before reading mine, saving up all the prawn pieces in my plate since he loved it. Hearing the music he liked…socializing with friends who he felt comfortable with. Dressing the way he liked. All those little things that we do not pay attention to in a normal situation.

Precious time had been lost. But all was not over. After all, I had a wonderful support system in my family & friends, guiding / plodding me at every stage when my belief dwindled.

It’s been one helluva journey & experience. Divorce has made me a better person. It’s made me more sensitive towards people I care about. Strive harder & with small achievements along the journey, a confidence & happiness that was not there when everyone thought… it was.

I’m single & definitely not lonely. Have met men who I found interesting initially only to realize that we didn’t compliment one another to be in a relationship forever. There’s no agenda. No plans for the future. Just live the present day with gusto & enthusiasm.

This is probably not what people expect from a divorcee. The picture of hopelessness & defeat is what they want. Blood & gore is in. How can she be enthusiastic after all this? It puzzles them. She’s not fit for our sympathy. Look how she’s enjoying her freedom. She’s probably demented.

Well…what the heck! who cares!

Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006