Not that I didn't like my Uncle Varun. I was
just a bit cross with him.
Vanmkaka* that's what I call him, is my
father's youngest cousin. He trained as a veterinary
surgeon and went abroad for higher studies.
On his return from America, Varunkaka accepted
a post at the Veterinary Hospital in Jabalpore,
where my parents, both Army doctors, were posted.
Vamnkaka intended staying with us, until he
got a house of his own.
I remember the day he arrived. I wasn't expecting
a Leviclad, long-haired 'Uncle.' But that didn't
trouble me as much as his attitude.
"I hope you're going to be a doctor, Vani," he
said when he finally noticed me. "Because if you
are, you ought to be a Vet, and with my help, I'm
sure you'll turn out to be a good Vet".
Look, I am fond of animals. But the nearest I
can get to doing anything for them professionally
is to join the SPCA.
"Varunkaka," I said firmly, "I'm going to study
literature."
"Paternal Uncle
First lie just gaped, then turning to my mother
he said, "Bhabhi* is your daughter crazy? She's
going to ruin the family tradition." You see, for
generations our family profession has been the
practice of medicine. Our ancestors must have
been vaidyas** and witch-doctors.
I'm good at keeping quiet, so I didn't tell him
he was a creep, but I instantly declared a cold
war. While he stayed with us, I had to suffer him.
He had his positive points, though.
He was an absolute wizard with my Alsatian,
Sultan. And he had said briefly, "Your roghanjosh***
is delicious," the second time I made it
during his stay. Of course, it was. I am a good cook!
Soon afterwards, Uncle got his accommodation.
When we visited him the first time, we were quite
shocked. The house was miles away from the city.
An unkempt garden and untidy rooms swarming
with dogs, mostly pye. Cats lay in sunny patches
all over the garden. The last straw however, was
the snake I found coiled on a cane chair in the
verandah.
"Before you squeal, Miss Prim and Proper, let
me tell you he's my pet," Varun kaka said sarcastically.
To get even with him, I went and patted
the snake gently. That obviously did the trick, for
"Brother's wife.
00 Physicians.
0 0 0A meat preparation.
he became communicative. "Several monkeys too
come here. Actually they stay on the ber* trees,
right at the back of the garden. But they come
here occasionally to visit me."
"Will you take me there and show me, Varunkaka?"
I said, forgetting my hostility.
"Sure, Vani I'll even show you the one I managed
to fix up."
"Is it some kind of toy or what?" I taunted him.
"Look, kid," he said condescendingly, "I'll tell
you all about it."
And sure enough he started.
"Early one morning, when I was having a cup
of tea, Bahadur brought a guy, who, he said was
a 'madari'** Bahadur had caught him in the
back garden trying to catch baby monkeys.
"Till then I didn't even know I had monkeys
in my garden. So I asked the madari to show me
where they were. He took me to this tree which
was practically loaded with monkeys. Then he
started pleading with me.
"Saheblet me catch just one male monkey.
Otherwise my show can't go on. I have a large
family to support, Saheb. Please, Saheb."
"I told him to catch one elsewhere. But he kept
on pleading. He said he had caught the female
"Wild Berry.
"Showman.
"""Sir.
from this tree, and no one had objected at that
time. So, I relented. "All right. Catch one. But if
you hurt any, I shall wring your neck." When I
came home for lunch that afternoon, I found Bahadur
trying to coax a baby monkey to drink
water. There was a blood-stained bandage on the
poor thing's hind leg. The 'madan was nowhere
to be seen.
"Bahadur told me briefly how the little one fell
from the tree when the 'madan threw a net round
it to trap it. By now I had discovered that the
baby had not merely hurt itself, it had fractured
its leg. It was half-dead with fright, so it was
easy to put the plaster cast on. Otherwise, monkeys
can be very difficult patients."
I was pretty engrossed in the tale. So I was
rather annoyed when Varun kaka abruptly went
inside. He returned wearing a pair of gum-boots
and carrying another pair.
"They're a bit big for you, but you'd better put
them on," he said. "The grass there is taller than
you and there are mosquitoes and snakes in the
undergrowth "
"But where are we going?" I asked, puzzled.
"To meet my pet Bobo and the rest of his
family," he said briefly.
"But the story?" I protested. "How did you
fix' the monkey? How did he climb the tree with
a broken leg?"
"Look here. Will you let me tell the story or are
you going to keep asking questions? I'll tell you
the rest while we walk to the back of the compound."
So, off we went and Varun kaka continued,
"Where was I? Oh, yes! The plaster on Bobo's
leg. You know he was such a sweet little thing,
but he was very weak. I had, of course, decided to
cure him, but not at the hospital.
"Bobo was stubborn and refused to eat or drink.
I managed to force some milk down his throat,
but that was not enough. He really needed much
more nourishment to recover.
"To tempt him to eat, I used to put him on the
dining table while I had my food. But it didn't
work. I could see he was recovering, because he
was more active, but the progress was extremely
slow. Then, one day, the funniest thing happened.
"I came back rather late for lunch. Bahadur
had kept my food on the table and gone off somewhere.
I brought Bobo and left him on the table.
As I was thirsty, I opened the fridge and took out
a bottle of lemonade. I pressed the marble in and
put the bottle to my lips. With every sip I took,
the blue marble would bob up and down. Bobo
was staring at me. Whenever I picked up the
bottle, his eyes would dart to the marble in the
bottle. I held the bottle out to him. But he didn't
take it. Instead, he turned his face away.
I started eating. But he kept turning round to
see if I had picked up the bottle. So, to amuse
him, I took out another bottle of lemonade and
drank it without offering him any."
I was finding it quite difficult to follow Varunkaka
through the grass in those big gum-boots.
But he couldn't care less.
"Actually," he continued, "Bobo by now had
learned to hobble about, on his plaster cast. So,
even if I left him on the table, he would manage
to get down to the floor. After I finished eating,
I hid behind the curtain to watch his movements.
He dragged himself to the edge of the table,
reached out and opened the fridge. Glancing
round quickly, he picked up a lemonade bottle.
Then he forced the marble in with a finger. How
delighted he was to see the marble bobbing up
and down. He took a sip and you should have seen
his face! The fizz in the lemonade must have been
too strong for him, for he grimaced. But he would
not give up. He went on drinking the lemonade,
just because he wanted to see the marble bob up
and down! I let him enjoy himself.
"After that I stopped coaxing him to eat. I led
him to the fridge and left the door open. To begin
with, he took only the lemonade. But gradually
he learnt to pick up an apple or some other fruit
and nibble it. If I asked him for some, he'd hand
me the seeds!
"He recovered in no time and became quite a
nuisance around the house. Nothing in the fridge
was safe from him. At times he kept opening and
closing the door to see the light come on. He
tweaked the dogs' ears and they went charging
at him. But the little fellow would shin up a door
and grin at them from there. He even tried his
hand at shaving with my razor.
"That was more than enough for me. I started
locking up the house and leaving him in the
garden. One evening I didn't find him there. I
knew then h ., had gone back to his clan. I let him
be. Now he comes back occasionally for a
lemonade!"
Warunkaka finished his story. Was he bluffing?
I didn't know.
We soon came to a cluster of ber trees and they
were swarming with monkeys. Monkeys of all
shapes and sizes. Monkeys eating 'ber', monkeys
chattering and monkeys fighting.
"Which one is Bobo?" I asked Varun kaka. Before
he could answer, a little fellow with a black
shoelace round his neck swung on to the lowest
branch.
"Is t h a t . . . . ? " I turned to Varun kaka and
gaped. His face looked a sight!
Varun kaka is crazy. He was miming for Bobo's
benefit the opening of a lemonade bottle! "Glug,
glug, glug. . .". He pretended to drink the im-
aginary stuff. Bobo watched him closely. He
leapt down from the tree, went to Varun kaka and
swung on to his shoulder. And there he sat until
we got home. Once inside, he made a beeline for
the fridge and helped himself to a lemonade.
So did Varun kaka and I. As I gulped down the
sweet fizzy beverage, I thought Varun kaka wasn't
a bad sort really. He was quite a pal in fact.
just a bit cross with him.
Vanmkaka* that's what I call him, is my
father's youngest cousin. He trained as a veterinary
surgeon and went abroad for higher studies.
On his return from America, Varunkaka accepted
a post at the Veterinary Hospital in Jabalpore,
where my parents, both Army doctors, were posted.
Vamnkaka intended staying with us, until he
got a house of his own.
I remember the day he arrived. I wasn't expecting
a Leviclad, long-haired 'Uncle.' But that didn't
trouble me as much as his attitude.
"I hope you're going to be a doctor, Vani," he
said when he finally noticed me. "Because if you
are, you ought to be a Vet, and with my help, I'm
sure you'll turn out to be a good Vet".
Look, I am fond of animals. But the nearest I
can get to doing anything for them professionally
is to join the SPCA.
"Varunkaka," I said firmly, "I'm going to study
literature."
"Paternal Uncle
First lie just gaped, then turning to my mother
he said, "Bhabhi* is your daughter crazy? She's
going to ruin the family tradition." You see, for
generations our family profession has been the
practice of medicine. Our ancestors must have
been vaidyas** and witch-doctors.
I'm good at keeping quiet, so I didn't tell him
he was a creep, but I instantly declared a cold
war. While he stayed with us, I had to suffer him.
He had his positive points, though.
He was an absolute wizard with my Alsatian,
Sultan. And he had said briefly, "Your roghanjosh***
is delicious," the second time I made it
during his stay. Of course, it was. I am a good cook!
Soon afterwards, Uncle got his accommodation.
When we visited him the first time, we were quite
shocked. The house was miles away from the city.
An unkempt garden and untidy rooms swarming
with dogs, mostly pye. Cats lay in sunny patches
all over the garden. The last straw however, was
the snake I found coiled on a cane chair in the
verandah.
"Before you squeal, Miss Prim and Proper, let
me tell you he's my pet," Varun kaka said sarcastically.
To get even with him, I went and patted
the snake gently. That obviously did the trick, for
"Brother's wife.
00 Physicians.
0 0 0A meat preparation.
he became communicative. "Several monkeys too
come here. Actually they stay on the ber* trees,
right at the back of the garden. But they come
here occasionally to visit me."
"Will you take me there and show me, Varunkaka?"
I said, forgetting my hostility.
"Sure, Vani I'll even show you the one I managed
to fix up."
"Is it some kind of toy or what?" I taunted him.
"Look, kid," he said condescendingly, "I'll tell
you all about it."
And sure enough he started.
"Early one morning, when I was having a cup
of tea, Bahadur brought a guy, who, he said was
a 'madari'** Bahadur had caught him in the
back garden trying to catch baby monkeys.
"Till then I didn't even know I had monkeys
in my garden. So I asked the madari to show me
where they were. He took me to this tree which
was practically loaded with monkeys. Then he
started pleading with me.
"Saheblet me catch just one male monkey.
Otherwise my show can't go on. I have a large
family to support, Saheb. Please, Saheb."
"I told him to catch one elsewhere. But he kept
on pleading. He said he had caught the female
"Wild Berry.
"Showman.
"""Sir.
from this tree, and no one had objected at that
time. So, I relented. "All right. Catch one. But if
you hurt any, I shall wring your neck." When I
came home for lunch that afternoon, I found Bahadur
trying to coax a baby monkey to drink
water. There was a blood-stained bandage on the
poor thing's hind leg. The 'madan was nowhere
to be seen.
"Bahadur told me briefly how the little one fell
from the tree when the 'madan threw a net round
it to trap it. By now I had discovered that the
baby had not merely hurt itself, it had fractured
its leg. It was half-dead with fright, so it was
easy to put the plaster cast on. Otherwise, monkeys
can be very difficult patients."
I was pretty engrossed in the tale. So I was
rather annoyed when Varun kaka abruptly went
inside. He returned wearing a pair of gum-boots
and carrying another pair.
"They're a bit big for you, but you'd better put
them on," he said. "The grass there is taller than
you and there are mosquitoes and snakes in the
undergrowth "
"But where are we going?" I asked, puzzled.
"To meet my pet Bobo and the rest of his
family," he said briefly.
"But the story?" I protested. "How did you
fix' the monkey? How did he climb the tree with
a broken leg?"
"Look here. Will you let me tell the story or are
you going to keep asking questions? I'll tell you
the rest while we walk to the back of the compound."
So, off we went and Varun kaka continued,
"Where was I? Oh, yes! The plaster on Bobo's
leg. You know he was such a sweet little thing,
but he was very weak. I had, of course, decided to
cure him, but not at the hospital.
"Bobo was stubborn and refused to eat or drink.
I managed to force some milk down his throat,
but that was not enough. He really needed much
more nourishment to recover.
"To tempt him to eat, I used to put him on the
dining table while I had my food. But it didn't
work. I could see he was recovering, because he
was more active, but the progress was extremely
slow. Then, one day, the funniest thing happened.
"I came back rather late for lunch. Bahadur
had kept my food on the table and gone off somewhere.
I brought Bobo and left him on the table.
As I was thirsty, I opened the fridge and took out
a bottle of lemonade. I pressed the marble in and
put the bottle to my lips. With every sip I took,
the blue marble would bob up and down. Bobo
was staring at me. Whenever I picked up the
bottle, his eyes would dart to the marble in the
bottle. I held the bottle out to him. But he didn't
take it. Instead, he turned his face away.
I started eating. But he kept turning round to
see if I had picked up the bottle. So, to amuse
him, I took out another bottle of lemonade and
drank it without offering him any."
I was finding it quite difficult to follow Varunkaka
through the grass in those big gum-boots.
But he couldn't care less.
"Actually," he continued, "Bobo by now had
learned to hobble about, on his plaster cast. So,
even if I left him on the table, he would manage
to get down to the floor. After I finished eating,
I hid behind the curtain to watch his movements.
He dragged himself to the edge of the table,
reached out and opened the fridge. Glancing
round quickly, he picked up a lemonade bottle.
Then he forced the marble in with a finger. How
delighted he was to see the marble bobbing up
and down. He took a sip and you should have seen
his face! The fizz in the lemonade must have been
too strong for him, for he grimaced. But he would
not give up. He went on drinking the lemonade,
just because he wanted to see the marble bob up
and down! I let him enjoy himself.
"After that I stopped coaxing him to eat. I led
him to the fridge and left the door open. To begin
with, he took only the lemonade. But gradually
he learnt to pick up an apple or some other fruit
and nibble it. If I asked him for some, he'd hand
me the seeds!
"He recovered in no time and became quite a
nuisance around the house. Nothing in the fridge
was safe from him. At times he kept opening and
closing the door to see the light come on. He
tweaked the dogs' ears and they went charging
at him. But the little fellow would shin up a door
and grin at them from there. He even tried his
hand at shaving with my razor.
"That was more than enough for me. I started
locking up the house and leaving him in the
garden. One evening I didn't find him there. I
knew then h ., had gone back to his clan. I let him
be. Now he comes back occasionally for a
lemonade!"
Warunkaka finished his story. Was he bluffing?
I didn't know.
We soon came to a cluster of ber trees and they
were swarming with monkeys. Monkeys of all
shapes and sizes. Monkeys eating 'ber', monkeys
chattering and monkeys fighting.
"Which one is Bobo?" I asked Varun kaka. Before
he could answer, a little fellow with a black
shoelace round his neck swung on to the lowest
branch.
"Is t h a t . . . . ? " I turned to Varun kaka and
gaped. His face looked a sight!
Varun kaka is crazy. He was miming for Bobo's
benefit the opening of a lemonade bottle! "Glug,
glug, glug. . .". He pretended to drink the im-
aginary stuff. Bobo watched him closely. He
leapt down from the tree, went to Varun kaka and
swung on to his shoulder. And there he sat until
we got home. Once inside, he made a beeline for
the fridge and helped himself to a lemonade.
So did Varun kaka and I. As I gulped down the
sweet fizzy beverage, I thought Varun kaka wasn't
a bad sort really. He was quite a pal in fact.
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