Close encounters of the reptilian kind

IN the early 2000s, the bank where I worked gave me a promotion and sent me to Seegur, a remote hamlet in Periyapatna taluk of Mysuru. In this isolated place, the absence of potable water, electricity, sanitation, medical care and transportation made life challenging. Only men staffed the branch because the bank deemed the place unsuitable for women.

The constant presence of creepy-crawlies and bugs added to the ordeal. On my first day, a shiver ran down my spine when I saw rat snakes moving inside the branch. I learnt that they had crept into the branch overnight through an opening in the wall. However, the sweeper, using a bamboo pole and displaying a calm demeanour, scooped and deposited the snakes into the nearby field.

Though snakes were common in the area, they shunned the branch during the day. Fortunately, the reptiles remained unharmed as the villagers revered them. During Naga Panchami, the air filled with the scent of incense as the entire village offered worship at the naga shrines. In homes, people adorned the clay and stone cobras with marigold garlands and venerated them.

Despite being revered by the villagers, the snakes fell victim to peacocks, which hunted them with deadly efficiency. One such peacock, with iridescent feathers, perched atop our branch building and scanned for snakes. The peacocks had a gala time feasting on the abundant reptiles. The unsuspecting snakes crossing roads at night also met their end under the wheels of lorries and trucks; it was a sudden, violent end.

The branch relied on a noisy, diesel-powered generator for electricity as the area lacked power lines. During the frigid winter months, a large cobra slithered near the warm generator, seeking refuge from the cold. When we went to switch off the generator at the end of the day, the cobra, sensing our presence, vanished into the shadows. The creature was a familiar sight at the generator site, a silent observer that kept a respectful distance from humans.

Most villagers in this tobacco-growing belt relied on wood for cooking and curing tobacco leaves. The houses kept their firewood in a cool, dark room. Stories of snakes seeking shelter in the wood storerooms did the rounds. One day, a colleague’s family members, who had lived in the village for generations, heard a hissing sound coming from the pile of wood. A scrutiny revealed the presence of a cobra, which had sought refuge within. Alarmed, they summoned a local snake catcher, who arrived moments later with a long hook and a jute sack. With practised ease, he secured the thrashing reptile in his bag before releasing it back into the wild.

We also encountered spiders, beetles and other creepy-crawlies — it was an occupational hazard. Once, upon opening a musty, leather-bound bank ledger, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw a mother scorpion and her brood, their tails curved menacingly, nestled amongst the pages. Once more, the sweeper appeared. He took the ledger book and freed the creatures into the bright outdoors.