Sweet memory of an elephantine rendezvous

Being in the neighbourhood of a famous temple, the occasional sight of an elephant going past in regal style, swinging from side to side, with its tell-tale clanging cluster of chains, which warns people of its presence, is not uncommon for this writer.

Seeing these majestic animals from a distance is a real feast to the eyes, though I should confess that deep inside I nurtured a hidden phobia for animals that prevented me from moving close to those behemoths who sauntered along the narrow road in the vicinity!

I probably got this awe-filled love for the animal, from my mother, who used to get very excited at the sight of one of these, as if reliving a connection from a previous birth.

A childhood neighbour of mine named Kuttappan, who sometimes doubles up as a mahout, once came with his mount to our neighbourhood, looking for palm leaves for the elephant.

Seeing plenty of it in our property, he asked me if he could take some for the pachyderm. Happy at seeing my neighbour and in awe of the gentle animal standing beside him, I said, "Take all you want."

It was fun seeing a slender Kuttappan making the animal that is several times his size to obey his commands by the sheer volume and power of his voice and making him climb over to our property from a low side embankment.

The elephant meekly obeyed and with a few manipulations with its dexterous legs, entered into our property. Not surprisingly, a small crowd of children and jobless adults gathered around to see the goings on. A typical village scene.

The mahout kept a spear-like object on its leg, the other end touching the ground, as an unspoken deterrent for the animal to not move from its place.

The elephant would move all its other body parts but not that particular leg because if the spear fell down, then he would be punished. Not that Kuttappan will harm the animal in any way, because I know that he is a great animal lover, with a menagerie of animals and birds in his house.

After the initial excitement was over, we went our ways and Kuttappan and his equally small built assistant went looking for the palm leaves. Meanwhile, having to go out, I was sure by the time we returned, Kuttappan and his entourage would have left.

Surprisingly, when we came back in the evening, we could hear sounds as if someone was on the rampage, in the backyard. On investigation, I found to my chagrin that the elephant was chained to one of the sturdy trees and merrily eating away from a mountain of palm leaves.

There was no sign of Kuttappan or his assistant. It suddenly dawned on me that we were stuck with this gentle (I hope) giant, for the night.

I guess, being neighbours, prior permission was not required!

Being safely tethered, we, along with some neighbours had fun with the elephant by feeding him gingerly from a distance.

Soon a good rapport was struck between the animal and us. It was getting dark and we went back to our houses. The chomping and breaking of fronds continued all through the night.

To make matters worse, it started raining heavily during the night and I was worried about the poor animal standing alone in the dark, in the pouring rain.

Early in the morning, I made a quick dash to the place, to check on the animal, only to see it happily engaged in its one-point programme of eating. The whole place was a mess though, with heaps of dung and waste from the palm leaves.

By afternoon, the two mahouts came strolling in without much ado. By this time, we had become quite friendly with the elephant and vice versa.

Who wouldn't fall for this gentle creature with its quiet demeanour and melancholic eyes, which even while viewing us from the corner, was indifferent to our presence.

Indeed, we would miss him, but an elephant is not something you could have as an everyday pet, so we had no other alternative than to say goodbye.

A few more full-throated commands from Kuttappan saw the pachyderm gently getting out of the property like an obedient child and going on its way with its cling clang sound.

Though man is so much smaller than the elephant, the size of his ego would beat the mammoth hollow.

The irony is that man who is thought to be the most 'civilised' among creation, is now becoming worse than wild animals, in spite of all the mechanisms in place to keep him in check.