Abode of abundance in the middle of a concrete jungle
Ihad stepped out into the garden, wanting some respite from the cloistered and suffocating feel of the air-conditioning, when I suddenly stopped in my tracks. A bright little golden face, with darting, inquisitive eyes popped up amidst the dense summer undergrowth. It stood ramrod straight, delicately poised on its hind legs, pointed snout quivering, looked straight at me as if in askance, its lithe body ready for flight at the merest hint of danger. A mongoose in my garden!
Our house is the only residence right in the middle of a busy square. It is surrounded by shops, malls and street vendors. The only animal one is likely to come across is the miserable cow, chewing cud morosely at the intersection or stringy mongrels foraging for food.
I was actually amazed. We have innumerable pesky squirrels, myriad birds nesting in the trees, the odd mouse burrowing away in the corner of a flower bed but a mongoose? Just how did it find its way?
My gardener, reticent and grouchy as most are wont to be, was nonchalant when I excitedly told him of this new resident in our garden. “That is why we don’t see snakes, madam,” he intoned expressionlessly. “Also, you are going to get good luck in three days,” was his parting shot. So proverbially sighting a mongoose is considered fortuitous, with superstitious people especially visiting a zoo to catch sight of one.
I am reminded of one of my favourite authors from yesteryears, the naturalist and collector, Gerald Durrell who founded the Jersey Zoo, off the coast of North-West France.
Travelling to strange, hitherto untouched lands on a shoestring budget, saving and collecting animals, often housing them in bathtubs and his bed, he was a gifted writer with a wry sense of humour. I devoured his books in my youth, their quirky and eccentric titles such as My Family and Other Animals, Marrying off Mother, and A Zoo In My Luggage, adding more flavour and appeal.
He and his family of four uninhibited, lovable siblings lived in Corfu, Greece, for a few years and his description of the enchanted island, with its riot of brightly hued bougainvillea spilling from cobblestoned winding streets, whitewashed houses bleached with blinding sunlight, sapphire blue waters, cosy wine taverns and the dark, taciturn Greeks always made my heart turn over and I would gladly have given an arm for passage to that heaven on earth as a young girl. So charmed was I by the vivid and humorous descriptions of his adventures and self-deprecatory style of writing that though not an instinctive animal lover, I was ready to fearlessly embrace the entire animal kingdom then.
The spirit of endurance and survival instinct of all living species is incredible. They come of the Earth and its glorious powers of sustenance. Nature in its abundance and generosity has bestowed a perfect ecosystem in my abode and I am unbelievably grateful. That it is in the middle of a concrete jungle is no less than a miracle, one that I am so fortunate to witness every single day!
A BRIGHT LITTLE GOLDEN FACE, WITH DARTING, INQUISITIVE EYES POPPED UP AMIDST THE DENSE SUMMER UNDERGROWTH. IT STOOD DELICATELY POISED ON ITS HIND LEGS WITH A POINTED SNOUT