A Heart Purple

With living spaces shrinking for man and wild animals, both are becoming increasingly violent and their spreading conflicts are turning progressively ugly. The loser in most cases is the wild animal. So when I read the newspaper front page on 27^th July, I was dumbfounded.

The usage of the phrase ‘into the lion’s mouth’ is merely connotative of knowingly and willfully doing something dangerous, like approaching a feared person, especially in order to ask a favour. The literal usage of ‘into the lion’s mouth’ has now been exemplified by a man, who undertook this dangerous task not to entertain an audience (à la the lion trainer in a traveling circus) but to save the beast’s life.

The Centre of Wildlife Rehabilitation & Conservation (CWRC) based out of Kaziranga is committed towards the protection of wild animals; they rescue and rehabilitate animals who come into conflict with man in shared habitats. On 26^th July, a team from CWRC set out for a village near Kaziranga on hearing reports that a leopard had been trapped. The team comprised of veterinarian Abhijit Bhawal, Raju Kutu and Tarun Gogoi (both animal keepers). The female leopard had attacked a villager earlier in the day, and was now facing imminent death at the hands of the agitated villagers. Armed with sharp weapons, the mob converged at the spot and surrounded the leopard in a vegetable field, but it managed to outwit the mob momentarily by jumping into a drain. The CWRC team equipped with a tranquiliser gun and a net, attempted to tranquilise the animal when it was inside the drain but the visibility was too poor to take a shot.

The leopard jumped out of the drain and took shelter inside a bamboo grove with the mob hot on its trail. Tarun ran along with the villagers to the spot where the leopard was taking shelter, trying to persuade them not to attack it. When the mob did not pay heed to his pleas, Tarun jumped on the leopard and held it tightly to save it from being beaten up. By the time Abhijit and Raju arrived on the spot and netted the leopard, Tarun’s right hand upto his forearm was inside its mouth. On seeing the netted down leopard, the villagers calmed down and the team extricated Tarun’s mauled arm from the big cat’s mouth. Injuries to both Tarun and the leopard were not severe – Tarun was hospitalized and subsequently discharged; the leopard was tranquilised and shifted to CWRC, undergoing treatment for a minor injury. Even as I am writing this post, the rescued and rehabilitated leopard must be going through its paces back in the wild.

Tarun aiding another big cat

Speaking to the media after the fateful incident, Dr. Abhijit who was in the CWRC team that day says this of with Tarun says, “He had put his hand inside its mouth to protect his face and head. Had it not been for Tarun’s courageous effort, the leopard would have been beaten to a pulp by the irate mob.” In recognition of this extraordinary act of selflessness and superlative courage, a NGO engaged in wildlife activism, Nature’s Beckon has instituted the ‘Green Salute Award’ and presented it to Tarun Gogoi.

I wonder what citation has been presented to Tarun in the Green Salute Award but there is a very poignant commendation which is commonly used in awarding military Medals/ Decorations/ etc., especially a line which goes something like this – “….Awarded For Extraordinary Heroism above and beyond the call of duty”. What Tarun has done, the qualities that he displayed in saving the leopard in that bamboo grove that 26^th July, his sense of what he probably thinks is ‘wildlife conservation’ goes beyond any touchstone elucidated, expected and exhibited.

Appended  below is a news clipping of the incident;  it does not show actual footage of the rescue but is informative.

To Scotland & Back

I am yet to go and see the sights of Scotland, but evidently atleast one Englishman who had, came down to Shillong and fell in love with its low verdant hills, the ever-present mist and the picturesque lakes. And he must have been the one to coin Shillong with the much-beloved moniker - “the Scotland of the East”.

Shillong the state capital of Meghalaya (“Abode of the Clouds”) is perched at an altitude of 1,520 meters (4,990 feet) above sea level. Shillong was a tiny village till 1864, when it was accorded the status of the new civil station of the Khasi and Jaintia hills. During the colonial period, it was an integral part of the erstwhile British provincial states of Eastern Bengal and Assam and served as the capital even after independence. Shillong thus became Assam's capital in 1874 and remained so for a century

With Shillong being the capital even in the British heydays, it remained the epicenter of administrative affairs, followed naturally by trade and commerce ties. Officers put up residence in Shillong, their families soon followed uphill cos after all, the ‘Scotland of the East’ with its salubrious climate, was and still is a comfortable address. Schools came up, shops opened and Shillong became a city.

With the creation of the new state of Meghalaya in 1972, Shillong ceased to be Assam’s capital. Thereafter, there was a reverse influx of Assamese families from Shillong. In Guwahati, it is easy to come across people who used to work and live in Shillong, grown men and women who recall wistfully, the wonderful times when as schoolchildren in Shillong, they would roam in Police Bazaar, go trekking in the hills all around, slurp steaming hot soup in roadside stalls around Bara Bazaar and go off to the Polo Grounds to watch the archery competitions and place their bets. The Shillong of yesteryears can still be seen in their memory-laden eyes, and it makes for a very pretty sight. 

A newspaper article last month about the beauty of monsoon in Shillong and the accompanying inflow of tourists that it invariably brings, prompted a family visit in the 3^rd week of June. Shillong is 104 km from Guwahati but for all the difference between the sweltering heat of Guwahati and the coolness of Shillong, you might think that the two places are in two different continents. It is presumptuous to assume that any beauty, even the beauty of a place is meant for consumption of the soul cos beauty and natural beauty at that, should not be cumbersomely burdened with a ‘purpose of being’. But for whatever it is worth, I drank in through my senses, the sights, smell, tastes and sounds of most that Shillong offers.

We put up at Umiam Lake (or Barapani) near Shillong; nestled among all the pines, with the turquoise waters of the lake in the background. For an all-too-brief period on that 1^st day, the lights went out and we spent some blissful moments in candle-light, with the crickets singing in the forests beyond and a starry sky above. A ritualistic visit to Shillong for most includes a trip to Cherrapunji village, now called Sohra, which our school GK books never tired of reminding, was ‘the wettest place on earth’. The sobriquet now belongs to Mausynram (another village nearby). The trip to Cherrapunji often comes accompanied with spray-like rain, which if you playfully poke your face out of the car and heavenwards, drenches it with cool, invigorating minuscule beads of water. In this journey again, more often than not, you will drive through cottony wisps of cloud which descend suddenly upon the road, just like long-lost friends. Of course, with all the driving rain and clouds, you might or not get to see the majestic waterfalls that dot the panoramic landscape, and fall out like so many petulant rivulets from high plateaus into the deep ravines below.

To end on a light note, with all the inherent attractions of falls, peaks and lakes, Shillong also holds enough charms to entice the shopaholics in the form of ‘Police Bazaar (called ‘PB’ by the locals) and Bara Bazaar. Stalls laden with goodies with grim-faced proprietors in the front apt to quote any price which catches their fancy, hard haggling with vehement remonstrations delivered with hand gestures and shame-faced expressions and the joy afterwards of carrying home the fruits of a hard-fought battle in a cheap blue/ green/ pink/ what-have-you plastic packet – all these appeal to the deal-sniffing instincts of my mother and brother.

We trudged onwards through many stalls, finally coming onto ‘Grand Tibet Market’ near Bara Bazaar.  With my brother scanning the goods from one stall to another, mother and myself stopped at one stall to catch our breath.

It was then, that I saw the black tee with a silhouetted Slash (from GnR) with his favourite Gibson Les Paul guitar. Well, one thing led to another and I learned a thing about myself – that I was not so different from my mother and brother, after all. So, I ended up buying 2 tees and a pair of jeans from that one stall. On the jeans front, the pleasant-faced lady proprietor shows me pairs in slim fit, narrow fit, ‘crotch-gripping’ fit with the usual line, “Brother, this here is the latest fashion.” She felt a little let-down when I asked for a straight fit pair which I normally wear, and began rummaging around the bottom shelves, obviously stocked much below the ‘latest fashion’ stuff and came up with exactly 7 pairs of my specification. She looks up and smiles wanly at me, asking me if I would like to try them on.

I glanced quickly over the pairs, realizing one thing I’d missed; so I tell her, “Didi, my waist is 34” and most of these are too small.” Poor didi’s eyes rolled up and in a voice mixed in equal measure with irritation and reproach, she says, “Brother, 34” is too big. You should slim down.” To be fair to didi, I am hardly representative of the local populace of Shillong. The people here are lithe, wiry, slender and of average height. Didi’s looks and words have the effect of making me feel like a outsized giant with a waist liable to attract litigations and summons issued in public interest. To add insult to injury, I am now left with precisely 2 pairs to choose. So, I gulp down my wounded pride and choose.

Afterwards, I found myself thinking of an act by stand-up comic Russell Peters (bit reproduced here) about a similar situation he says he faced in China. This is mirth about girth!!

Great Greta Greatest

“GRETA GARBO!” – The name itself sounds enigmatic, reminiscent of half-hidden, half-tangible visions of wonderment. If the silver screen be the oracle of all that is sparkling and lucent, then Greta Garbo indeed, is one of the greatest goddesses in its pantheon.

With eyes closed

It was just the day before i.e., 12^th July around 1 in the afternoon that my friend Kaushik (also read about him here), calls me and says that I have got to go somewhere with him. I ask, ‘Where?’ and he tells me this.

Tiny & Kaushik

Earlier in the day, post-breakfast, Kaushik hears the piteous meows of a cat outside the house and so, moving out to the verandah, sees a tiny kitten huddled out in the lane in front. Mixed with the kitty’s cries are the loud caws of a few crows. Kaushik sees the crows swooping down on the kitty and trying to peck it; the mother was nowhere to be seen. My friend goes out and retrieves the defenceless kitty and brings it home. The kitty was so tiny, almost like a mouse, with a mottled brown coat and shivering and crying continuously. It was so small – its eyes had not even opened and it could not have been more than 3 days old. Everything about this kitty was tiny; the legs, the tail, its ears and it could not even open its tiny mouth properly. Kaushik tried putting it in front of a saucer of milk but it could not feed itself.

Just over a couple of months earlier, Kaushik and his mom had taken care of a litter of abandoned stray kittens for a short period. The kitties were older and had been able to feed themselves with the food and water offered to them in plates and saucers. So Kaushik thought that handing over to an animal shelter where they would have better facilities for raising young animals, was a good idea. He searched online and found the details of 2 shelters operating in the city. He called the first number but it was of no use; the person on the phone stated that they looked only after dogs. He called up ‘People For Animals’ next and they said that they could help out if the kitty could be brought to their shelter. Kaushik noted down the address and then he called me.

It was pouring outside and another couple of hours later, we set out for the shelter. The first time I saw the kitty, I am amazed. I had never seen such a tiny kitten before. I pick it up gingerly; over its eyes are 2 small patches of pinkness, it feels almost weightless in my palm. Another hour later and we were there. The people at the shelter took the kitty, saying that it would have to be fed through a bottle, wrapped it in rags and put it inside a small empty carton.

It was then that I glanced around the place. PFA maintains this animal shelter through the donations and services of benevolent animal lovers and concerned citizens, and like-minded organisations. The facility is a shelter for abandoned, injured and rescued animals. It is a largish plot with a single-storey building in the middle, with a couple of shed attached at the back, possibly for storing feed. Just beside the entrance gate, there are a few pens, and one rickety structure which looks like a coop. A couple of covered cow-sheds with the ubiquitous feeding troughs in the middle completed the picture. The shelter was a regular menagerie and moving around, I told myself that this is what Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’ would have looked like. 

Animal Farm

A few indolent dogs were stretched on the cool floor of the shelter and catching their forty winks in the manner that only dogs can pull off. 5 – 6 kittens were playing around, scurrying around corners, very inquisitive about our presence, rubbing themselves against us. One huge sheep was surveying us with the air of a very wary proprietor, attempting to size us up. This inquisition was not in the least, affected by his constant attempts to get at some old newspapers lying on a shelf and convert them into lunch. The other animals tied up or kept in enclosures were on the whole, lot less enthusiastic about goings-on.

There was a kitten much like the one that we had brought along except that it was older and therefore larger, and with a large discoloured and obviously recovering wound just above its right eye. One of the keepers picked up the kitty and showed us the marks left by 28 stitches on its belly, when it was hit by a vehicle on the road. We also saw a purebred puppy alone and shivering inside its cage. It was very small (maybe a month old) and its hair was coming off its skin and all the time that we were there, it was closely curled up in the foetal position. We were told that it was suffering from a nervous illness and could not move about without falling over; all its motor skills were affected. Its owner had probably decided that he had no use for such a puppy, and left it at the shelter.

The one which does not leave my mind was a very old dog with wrinkly brown skin, and very sad, liquid eyes. On closer inspection, we found that it was suffering from cataract in both eyes. When it walked, its side swayed and it moved very laboriously; nevertheless it came near me. I wanted to pet it but something about its appearance put me off. Its face had such a human emotion when it was looking at us that it unsettled me. Much later as we were coming back in the car, I realized what that emotion was. That look on the old dog’s face was that of resignation, and this epiphany was the saddest moment of my day.

I feel it deeply now that every once in a while, we should close in our senses and let the heart take over. All of life’s actions cannot be and should not be taken with eyes wide open.

(You can know more about People For Animals here . )

Come on over and become a lily too

Capra

Frank Capra was a prolific American film-maker (though earlier he tried his hand at acting too) whose films have now established themselves as shining stars in the firmament that is the American landscape. He directed 55 long and short films in a career spanning 4 decades from the 1920s to the 1960s but it was the golden period from 1934 – 41 that he gave the world what is now considered as his best and most sparkling.

Why I Like Capra

There have been times when I have gone through emotional and moral distress, primarily arising out of a perennial struggle between the cynicism of others and my own faith and idealism. I have often attempted and faltered redefining my own individual life along the lines of simplicity, freedom of the soul and plain good nature. Capra’s characters do that too, except that unlike me; they succeed – showcasing the ability of the individual to make a difference.

I like Capra because he made some wonderful films which seem to leap at you, make you laugh and cry, and think. But most of all, I like Capra because he reinforces in his champagne-like way and best of all, does it on celluloid and through the luminous faces and voices of all those great actors, my own thoughts and feelings.

A Capricious Life

Actor and film director John Cassavetes says this of Capra, “Maybe there never was an America in the thirties; maybe it was all Frank Capra." This ‘epitome of American-hood’ started his amazing journey as an immigrant in a crowded passenger ship which was by Capra's own admission, "degrading, stinky and awful". Frank's early life reads like a typical immigrant's story of sweat, struggle and a constant feeling of insecurity; peddling newspapers, busking, manual laboring jobs, movie extras.

It was in college that Capra developed a love for language and poetry, and started writing ~ an eye for things. Possibly it was at this time, that he fleshed out the ideals and the type of characterizations which would later on, be termed ‘Capra-esque’.

Capra films usually carry a definite message about the basic goodness of human nature and show the value of unselfishness and hard work. Life gave Capra the opportunity to manifest these values himself many a time and significantly, post the Academy night of March 16, 1934. Capra received the first of his 6 Academy nominations for Best Director that year for 'Lady for a Day', and it seems that he was quite hopeful of winning. When Oscar host Will Rogers opened the envelope for Best Director, he commented, "Well, well, well. What do you know? I've watched this young man for a long time. Saw him come up from the bottom, and I mean the bottom. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Come on up and get it, Frank!" In typical Academy night fashion, the audience clapped, the searchlight hovered around trying to locate the winner, Capra got up, squeezing past tables and making his way to the open dance floor to accept his Oscar. Then the searchlight swept away, stopped, and picked up Frank Lloyd who had also received his nomination for ‘Cavalcade’ that year. As Frank Lloyd went up to the dais to collect his award, a shamefaced and flustered Frank Capra slunk off towards his seat among his friends, accompanied by calls of "Down in front!" and "Sit down!".

Capra calls this the "Longest, saddest, most shattering walk in my life.” His friends at his table were crying and after returning home that night, he did what many men would in his place. He called himself names, got drunk and passed out.

Next year on Academy night, he had his own Capra-esque moment when he did walk up to collect his Oscar for Best Director (the first of 3) for ‘It Happened One Night’, amplifying what he has always showed in his films – a common man, struggling and humiliated, rising up for his own feel-good, happy ending, showcasing the power of one against many.

Heroes and the craft

I must profess here that whatever knowledge I have of Capra’s film-craft comes after watching just 5 films – ‘It Happened One Night’, ‘Mr. Deeds Goes to Town’, ‘You Can't Take It with You’, ‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’ and ‘It's a Wonderful Life’. But this clutch of 5 films along with ‘Arsenic and Old Lace’ and ‘Meet John Doe’ is considered the hallmark of Capra’s film-making - his golden period.

Capra’s simple narrative, his ensemble of quirky, free-spirited lead and supporting characters, the fast repartees, and sometimes, even the sheer physicality of the scenes, mean that as a viewer, you are always keyed into what’s happening. Capra’s films belonged to him and his actors; perhaps Capra could bring out some element in his actors which imprints his brand among movie-watchers even today.

Frank's Favs

I love Capra’s characters. When I think of ‘It Happened One Night’, I instantly think of Gable’s quick-thinking and equally fast-talking journalist role; ‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’ brings to my mind the young and gullible idealist Jimmy fighting against a system. Somehow, when it comes to Capra, I find the connections and the underpinnings quite easy to create and comprehend. Among other stuff, one lovely attachment that I have towards Capra’s films is Jean Arthur; she always appears so wholesome in spirit and beauty, the twang in her voice and the vulnerability and strength in equal measure that she exhibited.

Just like other gifted individuals in the fields of art, Capra displays an astounding intuitive and prescient quality to anticipate how individuals, groups, corporations, administrations and even countries indeed, react and progress. Underlying very hard-nosed ideals of economics, filial obligations, practicality, there would be the typical Capra-esque qualities; his own personal history, transformed on the screen.

A recurring theme in Capra’s films is the irrationality of a crowd mentality, juxtaposed with the strong convictions and humanity of the protagonist. Capra would be again, one of the very first film-makers who chose to portray the media as a self-serving and not necessarily, evangelical entity – a theme to be explored later in films like Network (1976). Capra’s portrayal of how the media manipulates and is in turn, manipulated is evocative of how the power to do good gets corrupted, when it is corporatised.

Capra’s best movies were and still are, known for the happy way in which the final reel unravels itself. Before the pleasurable denouement though, there would be strife, complications, misunderstanding and a lot of heart-burn on the screen. Capra shows that even happy endings have their price, as James Stewart once put it, “Capra made you pay for those happy endings.''

Those who do not like Capra

Capra and his films have their fair share of detractors, of course. Critics have often, commented that Capra’s films are clichéd celebrations of the "pursuit of happiness"; a tiresome exercise in extolling and preaching ideals with whom the audience may not connect. Viewers may feel that the films are talking down to them. Capra is accused too, of creating characters who refuse to perceive the griminess around them, instead preferring to "wander about wide-eyed and breathless, seeing everything as larger than life."

In conclusion

In my personal space though, I am glad that Frank Capra existed and even gladder that he made the films he did. I see in them – a plainness, niceness and goodness – which is difficult to find in too many things these days.

I heard this – “One of the nicest movie things one person can do for another is to introduce him or her to Frank Capra's work.” I hope this introduction serves that purpose.

(The title of this post has been adapted from a line in Capra’s ‘You Can't Take It with You’, the lily here being a metaphor for all creations who sustain themselves through the bounty of the Lord, just like lilies in a field.)

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)