The simian rulers of Shimla

Shimla, once the summer capital of the British Raj, has a very different establishment. Forget municipal bodies and elected representatives; it is the fur-covered bureaucracy of macaques and langurs that truly governs the hill station.

Across the Mall Road, Jakhoo Hill, and other tourist hotspots, this simian syndicate operates a thriving parallel economy. Tourists have to routinely “pay taxes” in the form of bananas, chips, and sometimes even mobile phones or designer sunglasses.

As the humans-run administration debates about plastic waste and heritage preservation, the monkeys have already pioneered a circular economy. They expertly liberate packaged snacks, discarding the wrappers across the city, ensuring a steady stream of employment for sanitation workers.

What’s more, these monkeys run an impressive surveillance state. Perched on rooftops, electric wires, and balconies, they monitor human activity, and their intelligence network could shame any modern agency. The moment a tourist reaches for a bag of goodies, an interception squad swoops in within seconds.

The government responses — ranging from faded ‘Don’t feed monkeys’ boards to sporadic anti-monkey drives — are met with bemused indifference. For every relocated monkey, his three cousins arrive to reclaim the lost territory. If nothing else, it is a lesson in grassroots leadership and adaptability.

Ultimately, Shimla’s monkeys offer a perfect satire of governance — wily, opportunistic, eternally resourceful. As long as tourists come bearing bananas, the 'Monkey Republic' will flourish.

So, the next time you visit? Pay the monkey tax — and proceed with caution.

Shama Rana, Shimla