I grew up in a small village in Kerala and saw snakes every day. When going to school we saw pythons hanging on the fences and were not scared. If however a snake entered the house then there was mayhem. One forgot the fact that the snake was a divine figure to be worshipped. If the snake escaped then it got away alive. More often it was beaten to death.
She went and rounded up a few of our neighbour’s watchmen and gardeners who came with sticks to beat the snake. They went to the bathroom, closed the door, and started chasing the snake. The snake was too clever.It decided that attack was the best form of defense, raised its head and made a fast feint at all of them. When they fell back it made a bee line for the drain and promptly disappeared into it leaving its attackers confused and angered.
Ratna told us that even with urbanisation the number of snake encounters have not come down. He makes his living by catching snakes. In our own area he has got quite a few in the past months. Snakes are gentle creatures if left alone. He gave a list of distinguished neighbours whose houses were visited by snakes. Ratna’s knowledge and love of snakes came through his talk. Ratna said that snakes usually went out the same way they came in. Pouring hot water would make the snake back track the way he came and he would catch it at the garage drain.
Every one else including the neighbours congregated in the garage to see Ratna catch the snake as it came out. Vasanta and I missed the fun. As I was pouring the hot water there was a shout and we ran out to see Ratna holding a long black wriggling snake by the neck. Then he started moving the snake up and down to calm it. Once it relaxed it would not bite. The snake was about four feet long and was very poisonous according to Ratna. He called it “Karai Katta Nagam”. He put the snake into a bag and tied up the bag. I asked him what he would do with the snake. He said it would let off in the snake farm. The hot weather and the construction activity near about made the snakes move to cooler places. It must have got into an open drain and worked its way to the bathroom. After a hot cup of cha and some snacks Ratna bid us goodbye. We gave him a good bonus and our heartfelt thanks. We were relieved that we were able to manage things without the snake being beaten to death. We knew that the next time we had a snake we could handle it like professionals.
Snakes wandering into houses are not uncommon even in a city like Madras. Unless you are aware that snakes in the house are not uncommon you can be scared out of your wits. It is all very well to put a pot of milk near a snake pit and beat a quick retreat or to worship a snake idol in a temple, but the sight of a slithering snake near you can freeze you to the spot in terror.
I grew up in a small village in Kerala and saw snakes every day. When going to school we saw pythons hanging on the fences and were not scared. If however a snake entered the house then there was mayhem. One forgot the fact that the snake was a divine figure to be worshipped. If the snake escaped then it got away alive. More often it was beaten to death.
My first experience of a snake in a house was in Manjeri (Kerala) in the early 1930s.It was dusk, the oil lamps had been lit, and my mother went to the dark store room, with a lamp and our dog Micky at her heels. Micky started barking and when my mother turned round she saw a snake which had raised its head. She screamed and jumped on to a box. Her screams and Micky’s barking brought all of us to the room. The snake slithered away and no trace of it could be found. We shut the door and spent a sleepless night.
The second encounter with a snake in the house was in my uncle’s house in Nugumbakkam (Madras) in the late 1930s. My cousin Lakhamma was sitting in the veranda looking out into the garden. She was a good musician and was lost in her singing.The rest of us were inside the house. Her singing suddenly stopped and we heard a shrill voice shouting “Adishesha ennai vitttudu. Naan onnai enna pannen? Chamatha po”. (Oh snake leave me alone.What did I do to you? Please go.) We ran to the veranda and saw the snake slithering away! Lakshmma quickly recovered her wits and told us that her kind words sent the snake away and that the next time the snake came she would sing to him a song in Gowri Manohari -
‘Yaruku thann thereum avan Mahimai
Avan Mahimai yaruku thann thereum
Seshan Adiseshan Mahimai
Yarukku thann thereum’
composed by her. We have heard her sing the song later on but not in the presence of a snake!
These were encounters with snakes when snakes in India were common and urbanisation had not reached the high levels of the present day. One accepted that snakes wandered into houses. One saw them quite often outside and just kept away. As long as you did not attack it the snake did not bother you.
We now come to the late 80s of the last century. Urbanisation of Madras had progressed and the paddy fields in the city had disappeared to be replaced by houses. The city had however not forgotten its snakes. A snake farm had been set up to teach the citizens about the variety of snakes in the area and also to teach them they were harmless as long as they were left alone. Hospitals had the antidote for the rare cases of snake bites. Two expatriates, Harry Miller and Whittaker, wrote and spread knowledge of local animals and snakes which we had forgotten and did nor bother about. Whittaker set up the snake farm which was later taken over by the government. All this did not prevent the frozen terror that one experiences when one is suddenly confronted by a snake.
All through our stays in a big bungalows surrounded by an acres of land for three decades from the 50s to the 80s we did not have a snake inside. We moved into our own house in a small colony in the late 80s. There were a number of neighbouring houses. The house, which we named ‘Darpana’, was the site of our next encounter with a snake in the house.
It was a rainy night with cyclonic winds blowing with a booming noise. The rain was coming down in torrents. It was very chilly with temperature down to 15* Celsius - rather unusual for Madras. (See ‘Dog Days ’). It was very gloomy with lights flickering like candles due to low voltage and threatening to go off any moment. I decided that it was the right time and weather to have a whisky. It did not go well with Vasanta but she just frowned at me. We usually sit in the upstairs dining room cum sitting room when we are alone and the drinks cupboard is in the downstairs drawing room. I went down and poured myself a ‘Patiala peg’ of Laguvalin and went up. The cyclone was at its height and the wind making a noise like a siren and some branches were crashing down. The Patiala peg was despatched and a warm glow suffused through me. I heard the gate opening and heard our watchman Sukmaran come in. This gave a good excuse for topping and I went down.
After greeting Sukumaran I went to the drinks cupboard and poured another peg of Laguvalin. I had just taken a few steps when I saw a shiny thing moving. I stepped over, had a sip and looked back. Good lord! Did I see a snake? Impossible. Took a big gulp and went up. The Laguvalin spiked my brain.
“Darling. Get me torch. I think there is a snake downstairs”
“I think you had one too many. Here is the torch”- Vasanta
I went down and shone the torch near the cupboard and there was a snake coiled up.
“Darling it is a snake. Come and see.”
“I told you to stop with one. Oh well. I shall come down”.
Vasanta came down and was shocked to see the snake. Sukumaran was an old Kerala hand from the backwoods who claimed to have seen innumerable snakes and tigers and elephants. He had regaled our grandchildren with tales of his encounters in the forest. He was the ideal person to see off the snake. We called Sukumaran and he had one look and beat a hasty retreat to the neighbour’s house and did not turn up for the next few days. We were both unnerved and arguing as to what to do. I had another sip of Laguvalin to get the brain cells working with glaring looks from my wife. We phoned Bobjee, the chairman of the Naturalist society. He did not come up with any practical suggestions. Finally we hit on the idea of phoning Harry Miller. He was a well known expatriate, an expert on fauna and wild life, settled in Madras as it was cheaper to live and was well respected here. He was the secretary of the Madras Club where he saw that the English traditions were not thrown out.
Vasanta is the one who handles all phone calls as I am deemed to be deaf. The telcon must have gone on something like this. (Reconstructed from what Vasanta told me).
‘Hello. Can I talk to Mr.Harry Miller?’ -Vasanta
‘Master not available’ - Bearer
‘Is he at home?’ -Vasanta
‘Master too busy’ -Bearer
‘This an emergency’ -Vasanta
‘Master no talk. Master busy having drink’ - Bearer
Vasanta is desperate. ‘Please tell him I am from Madras Club.’
‘Why no tell Madras Club. Hold on. Will call Master’
Heard in the background was Harry’s gin sozzled voice- ’You dithering idiot Mariappan. Why did you not tell me it was Madras Club?’
‘Harry here’- Harry
‘Mr.Miller my husband is a member of Madras club. We have a snake in the house.’ - Vasanta
‘Madam, call me Harry. Madras Club members are not immune from snakes. I have a couple in my veranda just now. The rains have driven then in.’ - Harry
‘But Mr.Harry the snake is inside the house. I am scared. Please help me.’ -Vasanta
‘Madam calm down. The snake will not do anything to you if you let it alone. Get away from the room. Go to your bedroom, shut the door and go to sleep. In the mornig the snake would have gone. If it is still there give me a ring and I will bring some one to catch it. If your husband is there put him on.’ - Harry
‘Hello Harry.’ -Me
‘My friend your wife is in a state of terror. I am surprised that you Indians are terrified of snakes even after having lived among them for ages. We Brits have to teach you. Take your wife to the bedroom, shut the door and have a good night’s sleep. Give her a glass of milk laced with a lot of rum. I am sure you had your tipple’ -Harry
‘Yes. I am on my second double scotch’ -Me
‘ You Indians waste your money on overrated scotch. Your Rum and Gin are very good.If the snake is not gone tomorrow morning when you get up my name is not Harry. Good Night to you and your fair lady’ -Harry
The problem with our house was that it was designed by one of the nouvelle architects who had managed to hoodwink my wife. The result was that there were no doors downstairs, to give an illusion of space. The staircase was wide open for the snake to come up and explore upstairs. The only thing we could was to barricade the flimsy bed room door. There was no question of going downstairs for some rum. Rummaging the kitchen I found a small of rum used for cooking. I spiked our milk liberally with rum and went to the bedroom. We locked the door and piled all the chairs against the door. The rum and milk did the trick and we were dead to the world. No nightmares that night thanks to Harry’s drink.
I got up rather late with the glorious sunshine streaming through the window.The birds were creating a racket. Vasanta was fast asleep and gently snoring away. The previous night’s Laguvalins and milky rum had cleared all memories of the events of the night and snakes were not on my mind. I changed into my jogging dress and was just removing the barricades from the door, wondering why they were there when Vasanta screamed ‘Snake Close the door.’ Then it all came back to me. Like Jack and Jill, holding our hands, we carefully opened the door, we made sure that there was no snake upstairs. Then we went down step by step and peeped into the sitting room and there was no snake near the drinks cupboard. Opened the main door and ran up stairs. We hoped that if the snake was still around some where it would go out. We managed to get some neighbours to come and check that the snake had cleared off. We settled down after a few days but for a long time avoided going down stairs at night. The liquor was transferred to my bed room cupboard to avoid going down at night. Arguments have not settled the reason for the snake’s visit. I felt that it was the inclement weather but Vasanta felt it was the strong smell of liquor that attracted the snake.
Now we come to 9/23 when the snake again decided to pay a visit to Darpana. We were in the eighth year of the 21st century. It was an unusually warm September even for Madras. There was a warm breeze blowing and it was dusty. We stay alone and Darpana is empty and quite except on week ends whan the Sekars visit us and three or four times a year when Kamini and her family visit us. Vasanta, Kamini and Ambika go on shopping sprees every day. On the fateful day of 9/23 Vasanta stayed back as she was busy instructing the cook on the art of making ‘Arachakallaki’.The house reeked of coconuts and coconut oil. The girls love this dish and lap it up. As it turned out it was all for the best.
I was in the downstairs sitting room having a cup that cheers and reading a book on Ottoman history. I have always been fascinated how the sultans were able to handle large harems but the book did not give a clue except that all the sultans were adept at it. The maid Padma was cleaning the attached bathroom when the peace was broken by a loud scream ‘Ayoooooooooo’ followed by Padma shooting out of the bathroom babbling ‘ Bamboo! Bamboo!! Bamboo!!!’. She was in a state of deep shock. Vasanta and the cook Devi came down and revived her with some water and milk. Finally we learned that a snake was in the bathroom -a long black evil looking one.We quickly closed the bathroom door. Here is where our previous experience came in handy.
We knew that for the time being we were safe till we could get some help.
All options were discussed calmly. Meanwhile the cook Devi, who is fond of her drinks and had an early morning dose, started making snide remarks to Padma about her courage. This helped Padma’s recovery and she wanted to show she was as brave as Devi.
She went and rounded up a few of our neighbour’s watchmen and gardeners who came with sticks to beat the snake. They went to the bathroom, closed the door, and started chasing the snake. The snake was too clever.It decided that attack was the best form of defense, raised its head and made a fast feint at all of them. When they fell back it made a bee line for the drain and promptly disappeared into it leaving its attackers confused and angered.
Vasanta and I decided that it was best to get help from the Snake Farm. Chennai, as Madras is now called, has changed beyond recognition from the 80s and has become a big metropolis with all the attendant evils like pollution and traffic jams. The one thing that has changed for the better is the telecommunications with almost every one having a mobile. You may not be able to get to a place on time but you can connect to anywhere in the world in seconds. Then you have the ’just dial’ facility which gives you the telephone number of anything you want under the sun. Vasanta, who backs up as the telephone operator due to my feigned deafness, got through to the snake farm Manager and was able to persuade him to send a snake catcher immediately to help the old couple on the verge of a heart attack. Soon Ratna the snake catcher deputed by the snake farm rang up to say he was on the way but was delayed by the traffic jam. He asked us to be calm and not to worry.
Devi, with her tounge loosened by early morning arrack, kept us regaled how she handled the snakes in her house without any help. Padma gave her dirty looks. Ratna turned up and got down to business immediately. Vasanta briefed him, and he made detailed enquries. With a forked stick in his hand he went ino the bathroom. He poked into the drain covers. He wanted the detailed lay out of the drains and where it exited. I showed the drain cover in the garage. He removed the pot covering it. He asked for a bucket of hot water and Devi went to the kitchen to boil and bring it. I am covering the incident in great detail to show that it involved a lot of thought and work on part of the people in involved when they were under great tension. A member of the Naturalistic society, in her hurry to be the first, covered this in few words mentioning only her friend with no reference to the team work involved by a few people.This detailed account will help others faced by a similar problem.
Ratna told us that even with urbanisation the number of snake encounters have not come down. He makes his living by catching snakes. In our own area he has got quite a few in the past months. Snakes are gentle creatures if left alone. He gave a list of distinguished neighbours whose houses were visited by snakes. Ratna’s knowledge and love of snakes came through his talk. Ratna said that snakes usually went out the same way they came in. Pouring hot water would make the snake back track the way he came and he would catch it at the garage drain.
Devi came with hot water bucket. I was deputed to pour the hot water into the drain in the bathroom. To make sure that we were together at the end Vasanta stood beside me. I was afraid that the snake would come out through the second drain in the bathroom but Ratna assured me that it would not and if it did to give a shout.
‘Bayappadade Sami. Nan erukken’ (Don't be afraid, I am here),said Ratna
Every one else including the neighbours congregated in the garage to see Ratna catch the snake as it came out. Vasanta and I missed the fun. As I was pouring the hot water there was a shout and we ran out to see Ratna holding a long black wriggling snake by the neck. Then he started moving the snake up and down to calm it. Once it relaxed it would not bite. The snake was about four feet long and was very poisonous according to Ratna. He called it “Karai Katta Nagam”. He put the snake into a bag and tied up the bag. I asked him what he would do with the snake. He said it would let off in the snake farm. The hot weather and the construction activity near about made the snakes move to cooler places. It must have got into an open drain and worked its way to the bathroom. After a hot cup of cha and some snacks Ratna bid us goodbye. We gave him a good bonus and our heartfelt thanks. We were relieved that we were able to manage things without the snake being beaten to death. We knew that the next time we had a snake we could handle it like professionals.
We sat down to relax but the peace was soon broken by the blare of horns and screech of brakes as Kamini drove in with Ambika. When they opened the car door a huge pile of cushions tumbled out. Poor Padma, who ran to tell them of the snake, had to spend ten minutes to collect them before she could start on her version of events. For once the veteran shoppers wished they had stayed in the house. The ace internet reporter Ambika soon put it on her blog . Two days later at a dinner party at Ambika’s house every one at the party asked me where I was when the snake landed up. Not surprising. Most reporters cover themselves politically.
The painting above shows Vishnu relaxing on a snake with Lakshmi. Indian mythology shows snakes as friendly. We have the story of Vasuki being used to churn the ocean of milk. Why are we then scared of snakes?
Raja Ramakrishnan
14-11-20008
This story is dedicated to Ambika without whose inspiration and provocation it would not seen the light of day. The story is based on real facts but I have used the writer’s liberty to make it more attractive to read and enjoy.
...Thanks for that really enjoyable read! The revulsion that snakes generate quite disappears while reading this, because of your lovely humourous sketches of all the family!
Posted by: Gowri | November 15, 2008 at 03:48 AM
That was most enjoyable! Thanks for a good read.
Posted by: Raji | November 15, 2008 at 11:51 AM
Mr Ramakrishnan, even if I knew for certain that snakes entering a house are common, I would still be terrified to meet one! :) I would also probably move to a third floor apartment!
Posted by: Shyam | November 15, 2008 at 12:11 PM
What an enjoyable read!
However, I'd like to dispute some highly questionable, and some downright incorrect statements. I object strenuously to your sentence "Vasanta, Kamini and Ambika go on shopping sprees every day.". Hah, and bah, I say.
Also your self-diagnosis of "feigned deafness" is highly suspect.
What a pity Ambika and I were not there to corroborate your account!
Posted by: Kamini | November 15, 2008 at 04:13 PM
More writer's liberty than actual fact, but it had me chortling with incredulousness!!
You do have a gift of fictional writing and storytelling!
"A member of the naturalist society"
Posted by: | November 16, 2008 at 05:38 AM
This story based is on facts.Only the persons present can appreciate.I hope Vasanta is not bought over!
Raja Ramakrishnan
Posted by: Raja Ramakrishnan | November 17, 2008 at 12:26 AM
Wow, thath, what a piece! only you can pull it off; i smiled laughed and recoiled in the course of reading it... as usual, great accompanying images. keep it up. what is next? p.s. i had completely forgotten about micky!
Posted by: Mike Jones | November 19, 2008 at 11:34 PM
Thanks Mike Jones.Wait for Madras by night in the middle of last Century.The first of a series on night life in cities.
Thath
Posted by: | November 19, 2008 at 11:54 PM
pet snakes good and bad things about them ........I want one but I want to know if they are easy to take care ,can they fetch and does there cage stink and how often do you have to clean the cage?????/// Love meeee! I love crackers bet you wouldn't guess that Silly me haha
Posted by: cheap kamagra | April 27, 2010 at 05:31 PM
Great article This snake is look like a black cobra. Really I have read complete article very nicely structured. I would like to follow this blog for getting more information about snake.
.....Alex
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Mr. Raja Ramakrishnan,
it was indeed an enjoyable read......
i read it completely only for the style of your description..
Regards,
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Posted by: ajay | February 01, 2011 at 06:52 AM