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A Blue Noon at the Zoo
Sept04, 1983
The elephant with greasy tears sways from side to side under the shadow of a huge banyan tree. Heavy iron shackles bite into its legs and skin, and leave lesions. Whether it is the incarceration or the over-powering ammonic odor of urine, strong in the afternoon air that brings about the depression in the pachyderm is hard to tell.
Nearby lions feed on smelly meat that is thrown into cages from rusty buckets swarming with flies. Food fit for the largest flesh-eating animal, the king of the jungle? No way. Forget a balanced diet or a hygienic fare, going just by the quantity. Meanwhile from one of the cages comes a bellow that can be heard at the far end of the zoo. A sound on a different day, in different circumstances, would have sent other denizens of the jungle scampering for cover. The cry that rents the air today is that of an animal in distress, deep anguish.
In pursuit, one of the swiftest creatures on land, the leopard is in a tight cage that makes stretching of limbs, something of a challenge. To compound matters, there is a trunk of tree, spread diagonally in the undersized facility, to keep the feline company. If it did not further restrict movement, perhaps the trunk would have reminded the cat of the great outdoors, of days of yore, of childhood when trees were something for climbing and frolicking or to gaze out at the wide open spaces.
In a different set-up, sits a brooding gorilla. To be sure, in a Rodin-esque pose. It is in an island with the sky as a canopy. But yet the anthropoid ape does not seem to be too happy. Least of all by the constant stream of visitors. From time to time, from across the moat, some beasts on two-legs fling assorted fruit and rind. A young man entertaining his family throws in quick succession slices of raw mango. He pauses to glare at the inert ape, while his companions standing safely a few feet behind, egg him to be on target. But there’s no reaction from the gorilla. ‘Wretched, unresponsive beast’, the man curses, before launching into choice Urdu expletives.
Another homo sapien, near the monkey’s cage, is not doing too badly. He’s in a ‘monkeying’ mood. While his young children throw pebbles, he entices the animal with peanuts, to come over to the rails. When the trusting crit comes up close, the man slaps the smallish monkey on its cheeks. When the hapless creature responds with a startled sharp yelp, there is a loud guffaw. Children jump and down with delight. ‘Do it again, anna,’ urges a child. The women roar with laughter. Didn’t someone say a day at the zoo was great fun?
At another enclosure, an ostrich walks close to the abutment, bobbing its head over the wall. With long pretty eyelashes, the bird keeps responding to the children’s beckoning. Would it peck at you if you grabbed its neck? Well not this one. It just stares back at rather idiotically – blinking rapidly and making choking sounds. Fun is interrupted when someone yells, ‘Quick! Let’s go. I think someone’s rushing towards us. Looks like a zoo official.’
Not true, of course. It was in fact someone who didn’t think the goings-on were all that funny.
Repeat that Mysore experience, around the country and the zoophiles will get an idea of the sad state of affairs, the despair in most zoological parks around the country. There are of course, some parks that are not as bad as the present one. The Alipore Zoo, Calcutta for instance.
The first modern zoo we are told opened its gates in London in the 19th century. Crowds thronged in the thousands to catch a glimpse of ‘wild creatures’ such as the exotic ‘overstuffed duffle-bag of a creature - the hippopotamus’! This enthusiasm and excitement was matched only when the first giraffe arrived at the Paris zoo. At that time, newspapers went to town. To celebrate the strange gawky creature, fashion, poems, jewellery and dances were inspired a la giraffe!
Until then, such animals from exotic far away locations were either described by artists on paper or were part of the repertoire of sun-burnt adventurers. These men in khaki-shorts and shirts, and whisky glass in hand, held forth long and hard on the subject of wild animals and about their close encounters with the man-eaters of Kumoan and so forth.
Less than 100 years later after those dizzy urban events and caged animals in urban capitals, we have today zoos around the world in various stages of development that try to offer near true-to-life insights into ‘feral creatures and their behavior’. It saves many visitors from undertaking long and expensive treks into jungles without the risk to life and limb.
The zoo in downtown San Diego, California perhaps is a model of the best that’s happening in this movement. There, in an awesome, sprawling facility that recreates the natural habitats of animals and modern facilities such as noiseless tramways and mono-rail, SkyFari, colonies for breeding koalas and other animals, performing elephants shows…help visitors to understand and come close to nature and ways of the jungle. Visitors see exotic and not so exotic creatures drawn from far flung habitats of the world in a remarkable recreation of habitat and mood, a setting akin to their natural environment.
Be that as it may, as a first step in re-organizing the Indian zoo, perhaps our planners could give a thought to visitor motivation and education. In view of the juvenile and callous behavior of many visitors, it may be a good idea to erect a cage at the entrance – just as authorities have done at the Honolulu zoo. There, in a dimly lit, heavily barred cage is a blinking red warning: ‘Beware! The Most Dangerous Animal in the World’. Invariably driven by curiosity, long lines form to get into the cage, to have a good look. What they see inside deep inside the cage is a mirror… and a reflection. Of themselves!
Marketing Indian Style
Sep21, 1983
The clinic was in the interior northern district of Calcutta. To approach it the medical representative and I criss-crossed untidy heaps of garbage, side stepped squealing piglets chased by a mongrel, and dodged naked urchins running blindly in the narrow lanes.
From the outside, it seemed to be a rather unusual place, Benches were lined up within and without, swarms of flies rested on them and patients waiting for the doctor sat in silence. Inside and upstairs was the medicine shop. From there, a small pail tied to a coir rope shuttled up and down to the doctor’s desk.
The doctor wrote the prescription dropped it into the pail and tugged at the rope Fascinated, I watched the pail, as it went up and returned with packets of powders and bottles of mixtures, scarlet –coloured concoctions bright in the late morning light.
As we waited the doctor smiled in our general direction A young woman with a noisy, half-clad child in tow was occupying his immediate attention. He examined the child’s protruding belly. Prodding it here and there. At a particular spot, the kid, whimpering throughout, let out a blood-curdling yell. The woman promptly whacked it on the head to quieten it.
Somewhat taken aback I looked at the rep. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. I had earlier indicated to him that it was essential that we meet a good cross-section of general practitioners, not just those set-up in posh clinics on Park Street, Had the rep taken my words literally? Either way I felt a trifle uncomfy. It was hot and humid. The over-head fan, obviously a British relic, created a racket , much like a helicopter in distress, and did little to ease things. Loosening my tie, I felt glad that I had wisely dropped the idea of wearing a jacket that morning.
To the right of us, a patient in a torn solid bannian and lungee was lying, moaning and groaning. Right through the wait, the rep and I kept throwing furtive glances at this figure.
As the rep and I began to exchange pleasantries with the doctor in Bengali, there was a loud groan from the supine patient. The doctor cursing, yelled out at someone above and soon an assistant rushed down carrying a big wad of cotton wool and scalpels in a milky coloured liquid.
The doctor urged everyone in the clinic to assist him. So there we were – the compounder, a waiting patient the rep and I holding the patient down in a vicious vice like grip. The doctor dabbed some antiseptic on his armpit and ran a scalpel over the abscess, swiftly describing an X. The screams and protests soon dropped to a whimper.
Releasing my hold on the patients leg, I straightended up, still in a sweat. It was quite a while before I could breathe normally. Wiping away the debris from the 30 dollar Alexander Shields shirt, I wondered what the company’s overseas associates would have to say about marketing techniques in India, that go way beyond the call of duty.
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