Of Monkeys at the Mission

The thing about memories is that they set off a train of thoughts that race through the mind; like those ‘painted stations’ that ‘whistle by’ in Stevenson’s much-loved poem ‘From a Railway Carriage’. Just one post about my summer holidays and it’s like ‘Yesterday Once More’ in my mind. So, here’s another snippet from those days.

In the mornings, the ‘langur’ monkeys would arrive; families of them, young and old, mothers with babies clinging to their backs or fronts, little ones who were beginning to branch out (literally!) on their own. They would leap from one terrace to the next, catwalk along the stone railings; their tails arched high over their backs, or park themselves in rows on walls and ledges, planning their next raid. It wasn’t unusual to step out on a balcony only to come face to face with a monkey sitting calmly on the balustrade and in no mood to shift from there. One would have to beat a hasty retreat in that case.

In the balmy summer evenings, people would emerge from their houses and settle down comfortably on ‘charpais’ or those large, round ‘moodahs’. Since houses were so close to each other, plenty of conversations with neighbours would happen across the road or from roof-tops. I remember sitting in the porch waiting for the evening breeze to stir the leaves of the ‘madhumalti’ creeper that twined its way around one of the pillars. That’s the ‘Rohini Nakshatra’, I was told; when the days get warmer but the evenings are cooler.

After dinner was the best time: time to bring out the bedding on the terrace or balconies and line them up like children in a dormitory. And once the beds were ready, we would sprawl on the cool, cool sheets and gazing at the stars above, chat and laugh till one by one, we fell asleep. All around us, others would be doing the same, although some chatted late into the night and the night air would carry snatches of discussions and laughter across the roof-tops.

Come morning and we would have to fold our bedding and get indoors before it got too hot. I remember an occasion when matters got a little too heated up- between two large male monkeys who then began to chase each other across the roof-tops, growling and snarling as they went. We will still lying in bed, wondering what the noise was about when all of a sudden one of the males landed on a side wall of the balcony. The other was in hot pursuit so he took a flying leap all the way across (over our startled prone selves) and scampered away. His opponent followed in a similar fashion to the accompaniment of our frightened yells. Before we could gather ourselves and scurry inside, they came back for round two. One thud- followed by a flying leap-another thud and then off they went. By then we had given up hope of getting indoors in time to avoid round three. We were only praying that the long jump across the balcony wouldn’t fall short and on us.

I remember how we laughed ourselves silly after that incident, although from that day on, we kept a sharp eye and ear alert for any monkey business.