No matter how strong II.

The final tale involves a mother elephant and her calf who found themselves by a cruel twist of fate, pressed against the sides of a rocky ravine. This happened around 28^th April in Karbi Anglong district when the duo fell into a 30-foot gorge beside a hill. The mother and her two-month old calf stayed trapped in this rock tomb until local people and then, wildlife vet teams reached them. Reports say that the two got trapped very close to each other, with the mother being hardly able to move and only using her trunk to caress her calf. The mother even tried – unsuccessfully – to suckle her calf. A vet at the site says this of the mother, “Despite being trapped between two huge rocks she tried her best to suckle the calf but in vain. We saw it but were helpless.”
 

Eventually the vet teams with the assistance of the locals, were able to rescue the trapped calf, digging a 100-metre trench removing several rocks to reach the stricken calf. They fit the calf on a sling and lifted it, while the rest of the team and some villagers pulled it from outside. The severely traumatized and injured calf calf was carried down the hill on a stretcher and rushed to the nearest Range Office where it was treated.

Rescue attempts to save the mother were complicated by the terrain, inclement weather and the sudden appearance of a wild elephant herd in the area. Eventually after four days of being trapped, the mother succumbed to her injuries. The body of the mother elephant will forever stay entombed in this rocky grave because it proved impossible to retrieve her carcass.

As per latest reports, the calf was recuperating from its injuries in CWRC at Kaziranga.

It seems that with all the speeding trains, falling rocks and man-made obstructions, not to mention deliberate human action like poisoning water-holes, fate has dealt Assam’s elephants a very bad deal. However, this conclusion in itself, is deficient and hasty. In the ever-hard struggle for living space in a confined environment, both the elephant and man are losing their cool – rapidly. According to records, wild elephants have killed about 279 people in Assam since 2001, while 289 elephants have died during the period, many of them victims of retaliation.

The Trapped Mother-calf

It is this no-winners battle that gets highlighted in This Land We Call Our Home – Man Elephant Conflict of Assam, a short film that has got selected in the competition segment of this year’s Cannesfestival. This film shot by husband-wife duo, Vikeyano Zao and Indrajit Narayan Dev is their second film-making venture that has got shortlisted by Cannes. Their first film, The Last of the Tattooed Head-hunters exploring the head-hunting practice of the Konyak Nagas was the first film from North-East to make it to Cannes last year.

In this film shot all over Assam in the forests, sand-bars and estates that are the last bastion of the elephant, the conflict between man and the beast is examined in detail. The film is said to portray some very poignant and blood-curling scenes, shot in a matter-of-fact style. The outlook is not encouraging as filmmaker Zao says, “When we talk about national parks, many of us know only about Kaziranga. But what about the other forests? The situation is very bleak in Assam.”

The elephant may be strong in itself, but perhaps now more than ever, it needs our help.

[The title of this and the preceding post has been borrowed from the opening lines of Rufus Wainwright’s “Dinner at Eight”.]

No matter how strong I.

At around 5,000 kgs and standing 9 ft. tall, the Indian Asiatic Elephant presents an imposing picture and seemingly brooks no nonsense. India is home to just under 30,000 elephants with half of them in the North-Eastern states, particularly Assam where they eke out a very precarious existence. In the fortnight starting 20^th April, this magnificent beast with this gargantuan frame and girth has been hit by locomotives, found itself encircled within concrete walls and entombed by rocks in my state.

The first jumbo incident occurred in the second week of April in Gibbon wildlife sanctuary along the Assam-Nagaland border. The elephant, a young male around 10 – 12 years old, got injured after being hit by a train near the sanctuary. With its injured left foreleg, it found the strength somewhere to limp about for a week, painfully keeping up with its herd until it was forced to stop. It was then spotted, tranquilised and treated on 20^th Apr by a vet team from Centre for Wildlife Rehabilitation & Conservation (CWRC) based in Kaziranga. On closer observation, another wound on the rear of the elephant’s head was found and treated.

The Gibbon Elephant

And at that spot, the poor animal stayed immobile for a fortnight from 20^th Apr to 4^th May, until it finally succumbed to its injuries. It must be said here though that the local forest authorities tried to save the jumbo, keeping it under constant observation all the while. Forest officials even had a muddy pit dug close by to where the jumbo lay, filling it up with water from a fire tender, dragging the animal to the comfort of the artificial pool. The diagnosis was grim, a second tranquilising and treatment was undertaken, a round-the-clock surveillance mounted up to guard the defenceless jumbo against carnivores, and even saline bottles administered to replenish the animal’s failing strength. Ultimately however, all these efforts came to naught, the Gibbon elephant eventually adding to the tally of elephant deaths caused by locomotive hits. It is poignant to note that from 9^th Apr (the date on which it was hit) to 4^th May – a period of almost a month - this magnificent animal limped, suffered and starved until it met its merciful end.

The second jumbo tale is more in the nature of an inadvertent but nevertheless damaging human obstruction. On 25^th April, three wild jumbos were injured in Golaghat after they found themselves cordoned off between a concrete wall on one side and an electric fence on the other. Yes, this actually happened when the trio moving along a designated elephant corridor entered into a plot fenced off by a private company in alleged contravention of forest laws.

Man-made walls in Elephant Corridor

When it was observed that the jumbos were trapped, the forest authorities’ attempts to guide them towards an opening in the fence were very amateurish, to say the least. I saw this news clipping where a few very terrified forest guards burst some crackers (the sort we use in Diwali), and resorting to uselessly flailing their arms and shouting loudly. One forest guard was even seen folding his hands and mumbling something, obviously in prayer, seeking divine intervention to guide the jumbos to safety. It certainly seems that prayer forms a very important weapon in the local guards’ arsenal when it comes to assisting stricken animals.

So, it comes as no surprise that the panicky jumbos among all this ruckus, started banging themselves against the thick walls in an attempt to escape. After nearly three hours, the bruised animals finally managed to escape through the same opening in the wall through which they had entered.

Last heard, the forest authorities, the local administration and the company people were squabbling over the ownership of the plot cordoned off. Till its resolution, many more wild jumbos are likely to land themselves in similar trouble cos the land form parts of the elephant corridor.

(To be concluded)

The Raging Bull of Orang

Massive. Stolid. Ungainly. Your mind might very well kick-off with these words when you see a rhino for the first time. I know my mind did, when I first saw the rhino in the city zoo so many years back. Seeing one in the wilds, in its natural surroundings is however, quite different. For an animal which is the second largest on land, smaller only to the elephant, it gives off an aura of invincibility, given its size coupled with its armour-like hide. It almost looks regal and peaceful given that being a herbivore, you are likely to see it munching grass and leaves.

There’s an element of incongruity too about the rhino’s appearance; if you see one from the rear, it seems as one friend remarked ‘to be wearing shorts’! Its skin has many layers and folds, the last fold ending just above its rear knees.

Once found extensively in India from across the Indus Valley in the west to Burma in the east, the Indian or Greater One-horned Rhinocerous survives today in its natural habitat only in Nepal, Bengal and Assam. Assam accounts for the most significant rhino population, its ecological status ‘endangered’ due to poaching. Rhinos are killed for their horns, which are bought and sold on the black market, and which are used by some cultures for ornamental or (largely pseudo-scientific) medicinal purposes.

Orang the smallest national park in Assam, is home to around 68 rhinos as well as other threatened mammals. Perhaps Orang’s most famous inhabitant was ‘Kaan-kata’ – a feared and cantankerous male rhino (also called a bull rhino) who roamed the grasslands of Orang for close to 4 decades. Kaan-kata which means ‘the one with the cut ear’, owed its name to the fact that poachers’ bullets had chipped some portion of his left ear when it was younger. It has been said that Kaan-kata had survived other attempts by poachers since that fateful incident.

Owing to these unpleasant human encounters, Kaan-kata had developed a marked testiness towards people, charging at sight. Such was his sway that both forest staff and poachers were very wary of coming close to Orang’s most famous denizen, not daring to cross its path.

Lording over the grasslands of Orang in its lifetime, Kaan-kata breathed his last in Feb this year in his beloved and only home. The forest staff found Kaan-kata’s lifeless body in the morning of 16^th Feb at a spot, roughly at the centre of the park. The body bore no external injury and the horn was intact too. Post mortem confirmed that the aging patriarch had succumbed to the ultimate malady – old age.

In death, Kaan-kata elicited wistful reminiscences from local forest staff over his intrepid nature and post-16^th Feb I suspect, his exploits will become a part of Orang legend. Like the time that Kaan-kata charged at and attacked the vehicle of a divisional forest official (pretty much the top officer in a forest division) 3 years back. Poachers too, were at the receiving end as one forest official has said, “A poacher who was arrested a few years back had revealed during interrogation that Kaankata had chased him along with a few others for more than 2km.” In fact, Kaan-kata’s trepidations had spooked poachers to such an extent that they had stopped entering into Orang at daytime being fearful of Kaan-kata.

Kaan-Kata at his final resting place: At last, angry no more

The way I see it, Kaan-kata fought not only for himself but for the right of all animals everywhere to rid themselves of the yokel of human greed and interference. We need more Kaan-katas.

Garden State: Exploring the Infinite Abyss…

Garden State opens with a dream sequence of Zach Braff in a plane evidently about to crash. The co-passengers are panic-stricken, stuff inside the plane are colliding against other stuff, Zach is strangely detached and a sloka to Lord Ganesh “Vakratunda Mahakaaya Vakratunda Mahakaaya….”, is unhurriedly playing in the background. In a way, the sloka beseeching the Lord to remove all obstacles from one’s chosen path, is evocative of how all of us feel at some points of our lives.

Garden State celebrates this……celebrates the breathlessness, the bewilderment, the numbness that life sometimes turn into, with style and oh, with so much of coolness. Zach who makes his directorial debut with this, carries the persona of Andrew ‘Large’ Largeman with a loose-bodied and foppish grace as he ascends from his medication-induced haze onto a re-discovery of his life.

Large returns to his home in New Jersey after nine years for his mother’s funeral and the story unfolds. The Oz-ian landscape he returns to is home to an assortment of quaint characters with quirky interests – a grave-digger friend into collecting play cards, an ex-classmate who’s a cop now but you are left wondering about his supposed sanity for such a job, another is one of those guys who makes a lame but financially rewarding invention and then relapses into bored nothingness. Most of the characters seem to mirror Large’s own mental frame – superficial coolness masking a sense of suffering and loss, just content to be in “the waiting line”. Natalie Portman (Sam) is the odd one in the milieu, a character as free-spirited and unconventional as the foam helmet she wears while traveling and in work.

In the Harlequinade that Garden State explores, Zach is very much a modern-day Pierrot, naïve, unsure and with a sensitivity which is sometimes dorky. The movie joins Large, Sam and his high school buddy Mark (Peter Sarsgaard) on a journey which is replete with scenes that strike a fine balance between simplicity and poignancy, all echoing the sentiment - “I’m still waiting for my time”.

At times though, Garden State becomes meandering with the denouement itself very much at odds with the easy, un-contrived flow that preceded the events before. I have a sneaking suspicion too, that the overt coolness of the movie will wear off as one moves on with his life and gets further and further away, from the ‘nervous twenties’.

It would be fair however, to say that I loved Large, his quirks, the characters he came across, Sam’s effervescence and unusual pantomimes and the ‘geological phenomenon’. Chances are, that you will too.

If you like Garden State, it’s a cinch that you will simply love its soundtrack. Garden State received the Academy Award for Best Movie Soundtrack in 2004 – for a collection of songs which could be in your I-pod favourite songs’ playlist. But it is a collection which Zach compiled specifically for the film and he enclosed the soundtrack CD along with every copy of the film script he sent to producers.

The songs work wonderfully at a level where they unobtrusively but very eloquently underline the emotions which the film seeks to create. The soundtrack employs a mix of indie-rock, techno, blues that explore the eternal themes of youthful angst and loss. The Shins with their twin songs ‘Caring is creepy’ and ‘New Slang’ churn out a curious blend of  disillusionment and resonance, which is further expounded by Nick Drake’s brilliant ‘One of these things first’. Coldplay’s hummable ‘Don’t panic’ introduces a playful hopefulness – “'Cos yeah, everybody here's got somebody to lean on”. The unusual ‘Waiting line’ by Zero 7and Frou Frou’s ‘Let go’ are languid portrayals of an Elliot Smith-like resignation and muddled acceptance of life’s stuff. Zach’s ex-girlfriend Bonnie Somerville’s ‘Winding road’ and Cary Brother’s ‘Blue eyes’ are bluesy-country numbers full of melody and ‘Blue eyes’ specially has a resounding quality that fills up your senses. Colin Hay’s ‘I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You’ rings easy with Hay’s sonorous voice.

The heartfelt tone of ‘The Only Living Boy In New York’ by Simon & Garfunkel sounds great especially when it is played at that point in the movie where the 3 main characters come up to the edge. There are additional covers by Thievery Corporation (‘Lebanese blond’) and Iron & Wine (‘Such great heights’ of the Postal Service original) which work well if not great, with the rest. My personal favourite is Remy Zero’s ‘Fair’ for its haunting melody and the soulful refrain.

Simply speaking, this compilation works even without the film – an eclectic bits-and-pieces that come together as a mellow whole. In the movie, Natalie Portman offers Zach Braf her headphones and tells him that the song he is about to listen to (The Shin’s ‘New Slang’) will "change his life". No stupid line this cos if you let it, the songs in the album will speak to you – truly and deeply. 

MAd aβ¤uŦ MaR©h

March is here and it comes accompanies by the familiar hoopla. When I was younger, March was the month before Bihu (spring festival of Assam) and I used to look forward to the Bihu holidays. Now March has become the financial year-end, heralding the time for individuals setting investments in order, filing I-T returns, organisations compiling their statements and planning for the year ahead. So chances are that whether you are a part of a family or a salaried employee in some organisation or self-employed, you are feeling the March blues cos this month necessities you taking decisions with far-reaching consequences, planning ahead and getting your life in order.

All in all, depressing stuff for most – avoided till the last minute.

The breathless insurance companies beseeching you to ‘secure’ your life and the FMCG and auto companies conspiring to offload their excess inventory and project an inflated profit by extending ‘discounts’. Repeated calls to your banker and accountant who resort to incomprehensible jargon. Yes, March is upon us.

Spare a thought for Niaz da who has a PCO-cum-photostat-cum medical shop near us. I enquired after his business and he cursed March saying that his trade always comes down in this month. The reason he came up for such slow trade is that people tend to hold onto their money and spend less - a theory entirely at cross-purposes with all these companies promoting their products/ services with limited period only offers. Niaz da is pissed too that he has only till the end of this month to return the expired drugs in his stock to the pharma companies.

An auto-wallah told me that his business suffers in March everytime cos people do not want to travel too much in this month. Huh?! I presumed that with all those people buying ‘discounted’ stuff, ‘securing’ their life, filing returns and everything else, a lot of rubber must be getting burned.

We have let the calendar take control of our life, March madness being just one symptom.

“Those whom the Gods love”

It is quite commonplace that the news of a person dying in infancy/ adolescence/ youth is usually accompanied by comments like, “Tsk tsk, but he/she was so young”, “its not fair”. Yet when it happens to someone with whom you shared some moments of life, fairness, age or any other consideration to “decide” who should die and when, are gone. You just feel….numb. I felt the same on 27th February, 2010 when I heard that Sayak was no more.

Sayak Sarkar was my MBA batch mate with whom I shared a room wall for 1 year (he lived in the hostel room next to mine in the 1st year and we lived in different hostel blocks in the 2nd year). He was strictly not a friend but just a batch mate

who shared the same curriculum, same professors, same assignments and the same bland canteen food as me. I was always mindful of what I considered was his overbearing and opinionated nature. But Sayak being the person that he is, I could not help being drawn into his plans for monthly incursions into CR Park for fish and debates about what is best for our batch’s placements.

You see, Sayak was one of those people you meet who had an enduring interest in social good (in this case, our batch), lengthy discussions and ……..food. Yes, he was a true food aficionado – the sort who cultivates an extensive interest in cuisines, especially all fish preparations and also not averse to trying out new dishes. He also possessed an indeterminate interest in advising people about how they should plan their life. Being unknowledgeable of how these bits of advice worked out, I was surprised that some other batch mates did actually consult him for help. It is a measure of how meticulous he was regarding his own life too; he still is the only person I have met who plans his vacation in Microsoft Excel with columns for “Day”, “Activities to undertake”, “Time Allotted”, etc. I was dismissive of these traits and of the person too, at that time.

Yet when I heard that he died on a highway inside the gnarled remains of a car, I felt sadness in the most profound sense. Although we lived and worked in the same city for one odd year, I had met him only twice. Alongwith his family, other batch mates, his colleagues, I too went to a police station in a town in Maharashtra whose name I cannot remember now, retrieved Sayak’s body from the local morgue and went to Pune to cremate his mortal remains.

Afterwards, I found myself thinking of him and googling his name many times and visiting the links that came out. Being indifferent to him when he was alive, I was now reduced to trawling through the net to acquaint myself with the digital vestiges of all that is Sayak’s. And I found unexpected stuff; my MBA batchmates are not the only people who benefited from Sayak’s advice, his Orkut account has loads of scraps from old friends to this effect. He had been quite active in platforms which discussed European club football and online games; I saw so many snaps which he had uploaded in social sites, snaps of his friends, of the places that he had visited, of his good memories. Before February happened, it seems he had real plans to go to South Africa for the FIFA World Cup 2010, being the avid fan that he was of the game.

I can only be sorry now that I had closed my mind towards Sayak in an effort to safeguard myself. So, I pray now for his peace.

(Sayak died in a road accident on 26th February 2010 around 9 am. He was driving with some friends on a trip to Goa. They had hardly started out when it happened just an hour’s drive away from Sayak’s place in Navi Mumbai. There were 2 casualties; Sayak who was driving and his friend who was in the co-driver’s seat.)

As strong as a dove.

This post is a new beginning in many ways; so here goes.

It was no accident that one-third of the ancient world lived and died under the gaze of the eagle-headed vexillum of the Roman empire. It was only natural that the conquering Romans chose to embark upon their expeditions with their eagle emblem in tow because then as is now, the bird is an enduring symbol of power, grace and resolute determination to rule the skies. Lions, tigers, crocodiles, elephants et al even the humble bovine have found their way onto family crests, national emblems, decorative tapestries and even into scrawly drawings that small children choose to embellish their books with.

This fascination with adorning collective insignia and even personal possessions with the images of animals stems from the fact that they seem to represent certain ideals that we aspire to. It is perhaps important that when it comes to aspiring, we should observe and learn from both the predator as well as the hunted, from the eagle as well as the dove.

This is a short tale of a dove which started one wintry evening when my friend Kaushik, on returning from work was informed by his mother that an injured dove had been rescued by is father. It was raining outside and this bird had sought shelter under their car where it was seen and brought inside. On inspection, the dove was found to have a broken wing and bleeding from a few bruises. It looked like it had been attacked. Kaushik warmed the wet bird by a fire, applied some lotion which his doctor father provided, and kept it in their store room. All the while, the dove lay unmoving.

Kaushik tells me now, “I thought then that the bird would not live cos it was so still and if it was not an adult, it would find it very difficult to survive that evening’s ordeal.” The next morning when it was provided with broken rice and water, it started pecking at the grain. This showed that the dove was indeed an adult bird cos otherwise, it would have had a hard time tackling the (comparatively) big grains. The next 3 days, the dove contentedly partook of the grain and water. Everyday Kaushik would apply lotion to its broken wing twice – once before leaving for work and then again, after he returned. This whole time though, the dove would stay put at one place and not shift its roosting place inside the store.

On the 4th day, when Kaushik went to inspect the dove in the evening, he found a broken egg beside it. The dove was evidently a female, and been roosting in that one spot cos its egg was about to hatch, and now that new life inside her was gone.

On the 5th day, when Kaushik came home in the evening, his mother told him that another dove had stationed itself just outside the store room by the window sill and been cooing for quite a while. When he went inside the store, he saw the dove fluttering its wings and trying unsuccessfully to take flight. It had recovered sufficiently to leap and tap the windows with its body.

For the next 2 days, the other dove which was obviously the mate, kept on coming outside the window in the mornings and take up its cooing. The one inside cooed back. During this time, the female dove inside had regained its strength and was flying erratically round and round inside the store, leaping onto the windows and ventilators but there was no way out.

Finally on the 7th day since they had rescued the dove, Kaushik decided to let the dove take its chances. Early morning, the male dove had taken up its customary position outside and Kaushik held the female and took it up to their terrace. The male on seeing his mate, immediately flew up to the terrace of their neighbour’s house. My friend wanted to release the dove in the presence of its mate believing the sight of him would enthuse it to push its newly-healed body further and fly.

He placed the dove on the terrace and moved away. Seeing this, the male came onto the very edge of the neighbour’s terrace and then 2 things happened very quickly. The male flew directly overhead and the female took off in its mate’s wake. Together they flew away to another nearby terrace, stood there for sometime looking in my friend’s direction. Then the pair took flight together and left.

My friend tells me, “When that pair flew, my heart spouted wings alongside – I felt so happy and blessed.”

All it took was 1 man, 7 days and 2 doves. Devotion, resilience, attachment – they mean broader things to my friend and me now.