A Fable and A Journal
Home-Schooling by Mother Jackal
A Fable
Once upon a
time, Bhopal, like most habitations on Planet Earth, was ruled by homo sapiens
— the self‑styled ‘wise men’. They were mostly self‑centred and greedy; but in
rare, contrite moments of compassion for other animals had created a city
forest and grandiosely named it Ecological Park.
The Rulers
had posted a Notice in big, bold letters Strictly Prohibiting pet
dogs, vehicles, and littering inside the park. An inept painter, having won the
tender by quoting the lowest rates, had painted on a few boulders in lurid
colours a few animals which could be identified only from the textual
declaration under the painting. Not far from a Kripaya Shor Na Karen signage
met a Laughter Club every morning. Calling their morning ritual noisy would be
a gross understatement! But why blame the LC; the murmur of the leaves of the gently
swaying trees, and the twitter of birds were drowned as many morning walkers put
their smartphones in speaker mode and listened to NEWS, spirited radio
discussions on why CJP and intellectual Naxalites must be banned forthwith, Bollywood
hits, and devotional songs.
Amravat
Khurd village stood on top of the hillock at the north-eastern end of the
forest. The villagers refused to use the new road that the forest department had
built for them and continued to use the ‘No Public Thoroughfare’ road inside
the park. Vehicular traffic – school buses, vans, jeeps, and two-wheelers plied
throughout the day.
In this
Park, there lived a pair of jackals – mates for life - who had made two
adorable babies. Inside a dense grove, they had expanded an abandoned porcupine
hole and camouflaged it to create a safe haven to raise their little ones. They
took turns to keep vigil, with one parent foraging for food while the other
stayed at home.
As per jackal
custom, they homeschooled the cubs for elementary lessons. When ready for the
bigger, tougher lessons of life, they must run with the parents, and travel far
from home.
The cubs
were happy when mother returned home, for they were hungry. After feeding them,
she licked to groom the cubs, and then it was time for study.
“Do you remember
yesterday’s lessons?” Mom asked.
I do, said
the eager boy. Me, too, said the girl, not to be outsmarted.
Ok, you go
first, she asked the boy.
“Lesson One?”
“Stay at
home when parents are out.”
“Correct.
Why so?” She asked the girl.
“Danger.”
“Exactly.
Lesson 2?” She asked the girl.
“Keep silent
but keep listening. Shall I recite the full lesson?”
“Yes.”
“Eyes Open,
Ears Open, Mouth Shut – EO EO MS – for easy recall.”
“That’s right.
But, why?”
“No one must
know we live here. Top Secret.”
“Excellent.
New lesson for today.”
“After dark,
time to bark;
In the
morning, return to hiding.”
“Why must we
hide, Mom?”
“To keep
safe.”
“Where to
hide?”
“In our home,
the Den, or deep in the bushes.”
“Okay, today’s
session is done. Time for a little snooze. Before that, you may ask questions,
if any.”
“Mom, why do
we howl? Why not stay silent at all times?”
“The howl is
our anthem. We sing:
Heed our
howl,
Don’t
play foul;
Forest is
our home,
Night our
time;
Don’t
mess with us,
As we don’t
mess with you.”
“Once upon a
time, this forest belonged to us and other fellow forest dwelling animals. Those
two-legged animals are very, very hungry; they chewed away our jungle. That’s
why we howl in protest.”
“Mom, why do
those animals howl strangely, each in a different tone and volume? Haven’t they
been taught to howl in sync like us? And why are they so noisy, yapping endlessly
when in a group, and muttering even when alone? No danger for them?”
“No, they’re
the dangerous ones.”
“Do they
bite?”
“No, worse, they
are very, very dangerous. They use their upper legs to throw stones, hurl
lathis, and hurt us with other strange weapons.”
“Can I go a
little closer, and take a peep?”
“No, better
not. Best to stay away from them.”
A Golden Jackal
An elderly
couple began their morning walk at Eco Park on August 22 at 6.15 AM, a little
earlier than usual. The sky was overcast, the dawn lingered, though darkness
was slowly fading away.
The monsoon this
year had been generous with Bhopal, the trees and plants swayed gently in
gratitude, the birds sang in myriad tunes, and the animals were happy, too.
They took
the track at the eastern periphery, and reached their favourite strip
connecting the central circle to the Amravat Khurd road, on which the man was
walking N-S, and the lady from the opposite direction, when she whispered, “A
jackal!”
He turned
around, and noticed a morning walker, at the northern end of the strip, shooing
off an animal. He caught a glimpse of the jackal with a shiny brown coat and
thick, furry tail disappearing into the bushes. He walked on the village road
for a few metres hoping to see a little more of the jackal. No luck. He resumed
walking, still keeping an eye for movements, if any, in the bushes.
In a few
minutes, the jackal was peering at him from behind the bushes. When their eyes
met, it hastily returned to hiding. Probably trying to cross the walking strip,
he thought, and stood at a safe distance. Luckily, there were no other walkers
on the road. The jackal noted his presence, concluded that it was safe to
cross, emerged from the bushes, but instead of swiftly crossing it, turned
right and gently sprinted on the open road for a few metres heading north, and
thereafter, turning left, entered the undergrowth leading to a thick grove.
When the
jackal was on the road, the man could have shot a video, which he missed. But
he noted her swollen teats. Probably, a nursing mother, returning from her nocturnal
forage to suckle her cubs, hiding somewhere amidst the bushes.
The lady had
seen a jackal at this same spot a few weeks ago, but for the man it was a first
time. He was delighted.
For the
elderly couple, that fleeting glimpse of the mother jackal was more than a
sighting; it was a reminder that the meagre, dwindling forest still holds hope
for many creatures, who school their young in silence, vigilance, and
resilience.
Most humans
have forgotten to listen, yet the jackals haven’t given up. They continue with
their communal howl – a sad and solemn tune of protest and plea, often heard in
several fringe areas of Bhopal.
***
Jackal delight
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