From arunachalamkumar@hotmail.com Sun Oct 7 16:39:54 2001
Date: Mon, 01 Oct 2001 08:05:20 +0530
From: arunachalam kumar
To: Natural History of South Asia - General discussion and research
Subject: The Strange Story of Kaali
THE STRANGE STORY OF KAALI
The only epithet that she, Ponnamma could think of to
describe the petulance was ^—elephantine tantrums^“: just two and a half and
the jumbo brat was already a handful. The juvenile fretted and fumed, and
stamped his tiny feet at every entreaty. And this, the latest drama was for
one simple reason; Ponnuswamy, her houseman, had left home for on an urgent
chore, and he had left without bidding the junior a proper adieu.
So what? you may well ask What^“s odd about a spoilt kid
throwing tantrums? Every pampered child is delinquent too, and quite a few
in many a home you and I know, would react the same way as the junior,
Kaali, at Ponnusamy household did. Fair enough, I say to that, except that
this Kaali, is no ordinary run-of-the mill child^≈Kaali is a thirty month old
baby elephant! And Ponnusamy and his devoted wife, are his foster parents.
But let us start right at the beginning of the extraordinary tale, of Kaali
and his amazing life.
A herd of wild elephants were peacefully browsing
in the bamboo thickets of a sanctuary in the interior of Tamilnadu, a state
in the south India. The herd leader, a wizened matriarch paused and looked
apprehensively at the yonder somber gray canopy beyond the treetops. A
swirling mass of black clouds was rapidly closing in, thanks to a depression
in the Bay of Bengal. Peals of thunder reverberated in the jungle, and
tongues of lightning lit up the darkening environ. A thunderstorm was
imminent, a cloudburst on course. The wise cow, nudged and cajoled the herd
members into a trot, leading them onto higher ground along the west hillside
edge of the forest core. ^”Faster^‘, she muttered, her glances upwards
becoming more forbidding. And the herd broke into a melee, a stampede up
along the narrow, and now slippery tracks. Her newborn calf, hardly able to
walk, let alone jog, was supported and pushed by trunks and legs, ^—move;
move it!^“ the mother and aunts exhorted in one voice. Cataracts of water had
already come pouring down. Quick, before the rising torrents filled the
rivulets and cut off retreat and safe haven, the agitated guided the baby
pachyderm, step, by step, over and on the mossy pebbles and rocky edges that
lined the once gentle stream. Eddies and swirling muddy waters now rose to a
roar, and the current was fast accelerating too. ^—Careful now, now over this
rock, watch it baby^“ the concerned mother jumbo gushed in anxiety. Then
fumble, tumble, twist and totter, baby elephant trunk and tail, legs and
ears all entwined, junior lost his footing. Rapidly the waters washed over
his frenetic form, ^”mummy, mummy^‘ the kid wailed in fright. The current and
tide was too strong for the juvenile to handle, floundering and flailing the
baby elephant was being washed away. The others in the herd heard the
squeals of terror too, and came rushing back; frantically they tried to
reach out, but the baby was being borne by elemental forces too strong for
even elephants to challenge or counter. The screaming mother^“s laments were
soon piercing the dark confines of the sanctuary. All evening and nightlong
the herd stood with her, on the inundated banks of the swollen rivulet,
agonizing in anguish.
Dawn is greeted by azure skies. Along the now silently
flowing currents, stands a lone sentinel, waiting and wailing for her lost
child. The morning sunrays light up the alluvial green paddy fields
downstream too, where a clutch of simple villagers are on route to their
meager patches of sustenance. God! What is this? Lying prostrate on the edge
of their holding is a gray granite- like lump. ^”A baby elephant!^‘ a cry
rings out. Barely breathing too. Limp, and nearly lifeless. Errand carriers
and messengers are drafted in double quick time. Scamper to the Forest
Office, and inform the Ranger there, there^“s a ^—jumbo afoot^“.
In a few minutes, jeeploads of khaki clad
officers descend on the village. Amidst a crowd of onlookers, the foresters
wrap the elephant in warm blankets and jute sacks, the vet is at hand too,
running his warm hands over the flanks of the inert animal in a vain bid to
transfer some heat across the thick hairy shivering pachyderm^“s coat.
Willing hands lift the jumbo onto the waiting vehicle, and pronto the motor
chugs into life in a puff of diesel fume. The elephant is now on way to
headquarters, where senior vets and experts will step in and take over. At
Anamalai, where the jumbo was brought to, the officialdom at the Thanacadavu
Elephant camp swung into action. Saline and glucose drips were tapped in.
Woolen rugs were piled on. The baby was too weak, and looked a goner. Except
for a laboured gurgling breathing sound, nary a movement or response had the
baby shown since early morning. Hushed whispers and low decibel exchanges
are telltale evidence of sagging hopes. This elephant is doomed. Feeding
bottles and warm milk are tried and discarded. The baby jumbo is too
emaciated and weak to even suckle or swallow. The milk trickled out of his
red mouth, un-tasted. The tribals and foresters stood in a circle watching
the scene with increasing trepidation and tension. Crisis was the word.
Clueless, as well.
It was then that the fifty something Ponnusamy,
a tribal tracker doing odd jobs on part-time wages from the department
stepped up. Through tear brimming eyes the crowd watched Ponnu push past the
vets and officers, and reach out for the bucket of warm milk. Without a
gesture or word, Ponnu dipped his bare palm into the milk, and scooped out a
small quantity of the nourishing fluid with his cupped fist. He then
squatted on his haunches next to the inert animal, and pushed his fist deep
into the open mouth, way back into the gullet. Soothing words and gentle
palm massage, and lo, the elephant^“s throat purrs into life and it swallows
the milk in reflex deglutition. Open mouthed the gaped the onlookers while
Ponnu again and once again dipped his hand into the pail and fed nearly half
of it^“s contents to the junior jumbo, who by now appeared to be cooperating
in his recuperation efforts. The staff was galvanized into action. Wireless
messages crackled in the static. Telephones to senior DFOs and CCFs . The
message was cryptic ^”orphaned baby elephant saved^‘. The morrow sees more
jeeps and vets and medical supplies too. Bottles of Vitamins and tins of
baby food are unloaded. Through the following weeks the baby pachyderm is
steady enough to stand on his own feet and stumble a few steps behind his
savior, Ponnusamy and his wife Ponnamma, his little trunk curled in
anticipation of some goodies. Nourished and stronger by the day, his baby
squeals and shrill shrieks rent the air. Kaalikesavan, Kaali for short, as
the calf was christened now by the Ponnusamy couple, was allowed a free run
of the small hut Ponnusamy had on the fringes of the campsite. Here he was
moored with a tether, but most often he ran amok, toppling pans and pots
placed on the porch. The baby took to the couple as if born to them, and
they in turn adored him, as one of theirs. Such was their bonding that even
at night, the rascal would insist that Ponnamma draw up her straw mat next
to his hay-lined floor bed. And she often did so. Kaali screamed in rage
should one of his ^—parents^“ move out his ken and visual range. And the
Ponnuswamy pair stayed close, within his eyesight. ^”Only a baby saar, a
motherless one saar^‘ he explained to his officers.
The governmental agencies running the camp put in their
two pennies worth. Special diet allowance for the kid, ten tins of infant
cereal tinned gruel per day, and one bottle of ABDEC vitamin supplements.
All was fine, until one fine day, a fax message received at the campsite
office from headquarters came in. It read, as of today, Kaali would be put
through ^—training^“. He was to be schooled into falling in line, some
discipline and some duties. Camp elephants earn their keep ferrying
tourists, toting logs and such things. Kaali would now have to be broken in.
No more juvenile jaunts, and truant escapades. Kaali, in three months would
have to kneel, squat, salute and trumpet, on command. Inter alia the
tutelage involved some rigourous routines, including caning and prodding
with spikes. Reluctant and recalcitrant beasts were often reminded who their
boss was.
Ponnusami and Ponnamma were shocked into
silence. What? They wailed. Kaali, their beloved son Kalli would be taught
to kneel and caned for not doing so? Not over our dead bodies, they hissed
in chorus. No schooling for this one. Imagine poor Kaali, going down on his
for knees, and curling his proud trunk in a gesture of deference to some
khaki clad (and probably drunk) officer! No sir, no way. But orders were
orders, and bureaucracy brooks no dissent. And Kaali, as if he knew what it
was all about, screamed shrilly, and stomped his tiny feet in indignation,
^”no school for me^‘, the demonstration meant, in pachyderm slang. ^—Okay
then^“, the couple now pleaded with officialdom, if training must need be
given, we ourselves will give it to Kaali. Permit us, saar, to teach our kid
ourselves. Thus it came about that the Ponnusamy couple put their jumbo
through his paces. In three months flat, the baby knave had mastered all the
nuances and subtleties of scholarship. Not only could he kneel, on one or
both knees, he could also trumpet, roll over, and most importantly do a jig
while blowing on a harmonica held at his trunk tip! When the forest minister
came visiting, the little scoundrel showed his mettle, only, his salute
appeared a bit contemptuous and contrived.
So Kaali lives on, merry and footloose, scampering all
over the campsite. A darling too, having a free run of the Ponnusamy
settlement. Many anecdotes and tales are heard of the mischief and menace
the jumbo causes. One instance, when Ponnu and his wife had left early to
attend a relatives wedding at Topslip, a few kilometers off, the racket and
din Kaali raised at being left alone was incredible. He tugged at his chains
and rocked in rage, and wailed. Even the patient foresters at the camp had
had enough. They sent word through a tracker to Topslip. So Ponnusamy came
trotting back, and unleashed the rogue, who like a puppy dog, then trotted
back all the way behind Ponnusamy, to Topslip, and the wedding, his tail
held aflutter in a sign of victory.
Today Kaali is a full thirty months old. A black mop of
hair fringes his knitted forehead. His beady eyes eternally courting
mischief. He still lives in the hut verandah, within earshot and eyesight of
his human parents. If you are visiting the campsite, do say hi to Kaali. He
is always delighted to meet people. For goodwill and camaraderie, do buy a
stick of sugarcane or two on your way up the winding road. Offer a chop to
Kaali, and watch him chew the juice out of the cane. If Kaali is happy with
the cane^“s sucrose content, he will raise his little trunk in a salute, in
an expression of thanks, (even without Ponnusamy bidding him to!)
Arunachalam Kumar
From: Canara Times l996 / Times of India
Dr.Arunachalam Kumar
Professor of Anatomy,Kasturba Medical college
Mangalore 575001 India
Phone:0824 423452/423654.
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