Not just stripes, this zebra was a star too

Rajbir Deswal

Recently, I visited Chhatbir Zoo near the City Beautiful twice with kids. Having been to all the cages, compounds and colonies, we stopped towards the end of the tour to have a good look at the zebra corner. Why only us? There were hordes of others who evinced a keen interest in the animal, whose appearance became a flattened road-sign symbol, for walking safe during the traffic anywhere in the world. This grey and white striped beauty seemed to be the cynosure of all eyes which intently gazed at it.

I spent some 15 long minutes watching only the zebra, with undiluted attention and indulgence, both times during my visit. Most of the time, it kept its back towards the onlookers. Everyone around clicked photos of it.  Some even tried to take a selfie with it. 

It walked up to the fence like a royal with calculated steps. More clicks followed. I admired its stripes and the curves on its taut muscles. There was enough shine on it. It looked like a moving mirage. People beckoned it. The zebra seemed to know all this. 

The animal, a native of Africa, basically loves to move around in a herd. Its defence mechanism evolved in its stripes which disturb the visual system of the flies and bees besides the predators and which have a camouflaging effect for its safely. This zebra in Chaatbir Zoo must have been bred in captivity. But still it exhibited the quintessential typicalities and characteristics of its tribe.

Now, news has reached us of its demise, of heart attack, that too, at 15 years of age. 

Oh God! What a loss! We generally feel bad at the death of our pets but not a tear to be shed on the death of this beauty which gave happiness to thousands since the day it must have been born. The reason why I am writing an eulogy on the death of an animal, which I may have had no emotions for, is not far to seek. I don’t know why but I am reminded of Oliver Goldsmith’s poem, “An elegy on the death of a mad dog”. Its last para reads:

“But soon a wonder came to light,

That showed the rogues they lied:

The man recovered of the bite,

The dog it was that died.”

 I will conclude with a bit of sermon: “Be kind to the sub-humans, O’ human of the species!”

Sure, the zebra did know the hollow endearments of its admirers, I think.

Cynosure of all eyes

We generally feel bad at the death of our pets but not a tear is to be shed on the death of this beauty which must have given happiness to many since the day it must have been born