Lupine

‘The greatest threat to people is ignorance. The greatest threat to wolves is ignorant people.’  1

A cool mid-summer wind blew gently over the underbrush, providing some relief from the scorching heat. It was cooler still in the machaan, poised gingerly on the highest branch of a sal tree. Amit Prasad fanned himself with the morning’s newspaper, peering through his field glasses at odd intervals. His treetop retreat offered a bird’s eye-view of the watering hole a few yards away. The luxuriant strands of corn and elephant grass undulated next to the riverbank, blissfully unaware of the impending summer heat, which would raze them to the ground. 2

Amit scanned the corners of the 8 feet x 12 feet machaan. It was to be a long-drawn stakeout, and he had come fully prepared for the same. A hamper containing some fresh food he had packed from the village, plenty of biscuits and energy bars, bottles of mineral water, some magazines, a bedding with an inflatable pillow and a thick chaddar to comfort him against the cold night that lay ahead. Then, there were the essentials for a jungle watch. A spare pair of binoculars, a torch with two sets of batteries, a packet of matchboxes, a first-aid kit, a change of clothes, a Swiss Army knife, a camera, and a lantern filled with dhibri ka tel. He had also equipped himself with an anodised aluminium hunting pod, purchased specially on licence from Oregon. The pod housed a saw, cutting blade, scissors, Phillips screwdrivers, cap lifter, can opener and a corkscrew. Also built into its shell were a survival whistle and a gleaming steel signal mirror. Next to the pod lay Amit’s survival totem; a Sheldon Snyder ‘Cape Gun’. This versatile double-barrelled weapon consisted of a rifle and a shotgun, and its own brand of ammo – tranquilliser darts. Amit had never used this gun for hunting, only for self-defence. Being a biologist by profession, and an ecologist by principle, he adhered to his own set of ethics.              3

About half a kilometre behind his vantage point, Amit had parked his old faithful jhongaa, with some more provisions as a backup. He had covered the vehicle with grass, leaves and stray branches to camouflage its appearance. Tomorrow, he would need to drive back to the nearest village for a fresh supply of provisions.  4

Amit resumed his watch, carefully adjusting the lenses to get a better view. There were hardly any animals out for a drink. “Poachers”, he shrugged, “the b******s.” 5

Another long hour passed by without any movement. Amit was getting restless. He retreated to the back of the machaan, took off his field glasses, adjusted the bedding, and lay down to read the local newspaper. ‘Wolves kill 4-year old’ blared the headline. It was familiar news. For over 4 months now, more than 50 children had been killed in the forest divisions of Hazaribagh, Koderma and Latehar in Bihar. Massive police investigations had pointed out to a pack of wolves as the main culprits. From the claw and teeth marks on victims, pathologists confirmed the findings. A local conservationist believed a pack of wolves roamed the area, driven to killing children by hunger or by something else that had upset the natural instinct of wolves to avoid humans. Like thrill-seeking villagers stealing wolf cubs from a lair. 6

With every fresh attack, mass hysteria had swept the adjoining hamlets. People never strayed out of their homes at night. Mothers kept children from the fields, and infants were secured in their houses all day. Night patrols had been formed, comprising of teams of 10-15 hardy men armed with laathis, antique rifles, and staves. The police and the villagers had hunted some 10 wolves and 15 foxes, but the spate of child killings continued unabated. Since there was no concrete proof of wolf involvement, just badly mauled corpses, the villages were abuzz with frenzied rumours.  7

In the dark interiors of stark brick homes, fantastic stories were told, sweeping aside all attempts by officials to convince the villagers that the killers were indeed wolves. Some wise old men and mukhiyaas concluded that it was the handiwork of werewolves; the half-man, half-wolf creatures that have stalked their way through folklore for about as long as human societies have existed. The local politicians, with one eye on festering communal hatred to farm votes, blamed Pakistan. They believed that infiltrators from India’s traditional enemy, dressed up as wolves, and lifted children in order to spread panic. In an atmosphere charged with illiteracy these claims were hard to disbelieve.    8

“It crawled across the grass on all four paws,” said Nirmala Devi, the 12-year old sister of a boy killed in Bankipur. She told her story to the reporter with tears in her eyes, to anxious murmurs in the crowd. “As it grabbed Shyam, it rose onto two legs until it stood like a man,” she said. “Then, it bundled him over its shoulder. It was wearing a blackish-brown coat, a black helmet with a visor and black goggles.” The girl’s grandfather, Laxman Pandey, who drove a truck in Punjab for 40 years before retiring to his native village said “The police are pressurising us to say it was a wolf. But we have seen this thing with our own eyes. It’s not a wolf, it’s a human being.” 9

“Incredulous”, swore Amit, under his breath. After all, with over 20 years of experience in studying Indian wolves, he had never come across a theory like this. Of course, he had followed the ‘wolfman’ legend, deeply ingrained in Western cultures, but he couldn’t digest the fact that India should pay heed to the werewolf myth, age-old superstitions notwithstanding. No ‘loup-garoux’ existed in India, he reassured himself.  10

Amit knew more than a thing or two about wolves. He had studied them extensively across the plains of Gujarat, Bihar and Rajasthan, even presenting a paper on his analysis at the University of Minnesota. In fact, it was this rich background of his, which had prompted the Bihar Government to enlist his help in the current crisis at Hazaribagh. Amit was to follow a pack of wolves, and closely examine their behaviour over a period of two months. His findings had to be communicated on a day-to-day basis to the local police and the forest guard officials. A month down, he had not seen a single wolf, and not heard a single howl. His survey had yielded no results, even as the killings continued. Now, he was under desperate pressure from all quarters to either track down the killers, or explain their abnormal activities. After consultations with villagers who advised him to track the wolves down at the waterhole, he had parked himself on this machaan for more than 10 days, never alighting from his perch through the day. 11

A steady stream of sweat descended down Amit’s face. He arose, and surveyed the water hole once again. No luck. This was very atypical of wolves. Though they generally avoided water, they had to drink, and this was the only waterhole in the entire area. Amit wondered why the pack was avoiding this certain waterhole. It was beginning to bother him no end. 12

Presently, he decided to read his thesis on the Indian wolf. He always carried a copy of his lecture, partly to repeat the euphoria of the standing ovation he had received in Minnesota, and partly to refresh himself with wolf facts. Opening his rucksack, he fished out a file. Cannis Lupus Pallipes – a study by Amit Prasad, Biologist and Ecologist, India. He glanced summarily through its contents. Every word reminded him about how this magnificent animal was slowly losing ground across the Indian hinterland.  13

The Indian wolf was a small, sandy-coloured subspecies of the grey wolf. A large male weighed around 20 kilos, half the weight of wolves found in the forests of Europe and Northern America. Driven to near extinction by farmers and industry, there were believed to be only 2,000 wolves left in India. The main prey for a wolf included blackbucks, chinkaras, nilgais and wild boar. Smaller animals like hares and rodents also formed part of their diet. Wolves generally avoided humans for two reasons. One, because humans harassed them, killing them for their exquisite skin, to be exported at a rich price across European countes. And two, because wolves only killed quadrupeds, they did not recognise bipeds as prey. However, when natural prey was scarce, wolves were not averse to killing humans, especially small, defenceless children. 14

This point worried Amit the most. Hazaribagh and its surrounding areas were a rich haven for the wolves’ prey, so why did they have to resort to killing humans. “It’s not werewolves, it’s those damn poachers”, he reasoned, “they’re killing the wolves for their pelt, then killing some children to put the people off their scent. Bloody idiots, when will they ever learn what our future generations are losing?” Amit was now doubly determined to prove that it was poachers behind the child murders.  15

At four o’clock, Amit ate his packed lunch. He relished the dry rotis and the bajra bhaaji, washing it down with some cold dahi that had been immersed in a small, earthen pot. He then proceeded to enjoy his usual afternoon siesta. Placing his Sheldon-Snyder snugly on his chest, and covering his face with his large hunter hat to avoid the flies, Amit dozed off. 16

The night dawns early in the plains. When Amit rose, he could see the ink-blue sky, through the branches of the sal tree. The moon shone in solitary splendour. “Sheez, I’ve overslept”, he cursed, “got to make some preparations.” Lighting his lantern, Amit made his way slowly down the tree. Then, he walked for some 10 minutes down a snaking path, stopping in front of his jhongaa. From the boot case of the vehicle, he removed a tube of mosquito repellent and a pair of field glasses with night vision. Then, he tucked in two bars of 5 Star in his breast pocket, checked the vehicle’s tyres, and proceeded back to his stakeout point. 17

Even as he settled back into the wooden structure, Amit heard the first howl. It was long and desperate. And it was unmistakeably wolfen. 18

Shivering slightly, goose bumps erupting on his flesh, Amit trained the night vision glasses in the direction of the howl. Through the infrared lenses, he perceived the black form of an animal in the distance. Its red eyes burned like glowing embers, cutting through the darkness. And the eyes were coming closer. Amit dropped the glasses and clutched hard at the gun, looking forward to its potential security. More howls followed. There were at least two creatures in the underbrush ahead. Amit dimmed the lantern, but he knew that the wolves had already felt his presence. Maybe they had smelt him. 19

Now, Amit could see the duo clearly. The two had made their way across the plains, and were sitting on their haunches on the grass, diagonally across the sal tree. They were unlike any Indian wolves he had ever seen. Abnormally large, black shaggy monsters, with blood-shot eyes, long purple tongues, and huge canines that glistened in the night. They sat silently for over two minutes, looking directly at Amit. He, in the meantime, had not moved a muscle, paralysed by fear and awe. Courage slowly seeped into his limbs, and he stirred, picking up the gun to shoot. 20

It proved to be a huge mistake. In a split-second movement, one of the creatures ran across the plain, jumped up the tree, disabled the gun from Amit’s hands and dragged Amit by his collar to the bottom of the tree. Amit was pinned down to the ground by a giant paw, even as virulent saliva from the beast’s jaws dripped on to his face. The second creature joined soon, and both looked at Amit through their gleaming eyes, filled with a gloating for their victory.    21

What followed was beyond Amit’s wildest imagination. 22

The transformations began. At first, their snouts became smaller, retreating into their skulls, forming a sticky, bloody outline of a nose, even as they howled in agony. Their pointed, moth-eaten ears twisted and turned, till they resembled a pair of human hearing appendages. Their eyes popped, the red turning inwards to form a black and white iris. The sharp canines unsheathed, painfully receding into their smelly gums. Then the hair disappeared, follicle after follicle, hirsute forms being replaced by smooth, dark skin. Finally, they stood on their two legs; then wolves, now humans. Amit wished the nightmare would end. 23

The man spoke in a hushed growl. “You didn’t believe, never believed. Now, do you?” The woman cackled, “This is what you humans get for destroying wolves. Poisoning, den burning, clubbing… you filthy humans.” The man howled again, “For centuries we’ve tried to live with you, never meddling in your affairs, never concerned with your ways of life. You go on killing our kith and kin, indifferent, apathetic. But, we have taken our revenge. We have polluted your kind, infected your race. Eaten your children, made your adults one of us. Cursed them to eternal damnation. Our numbers are growing steadily. Soon, we shall rule over you. Your concrete cities shall become our playgrounds once again. Your parks, our hunting grounds. Soon…”    24

Epilogue 25

Amit Prasad woke up to a fine breakfast at the Taj Mahal hotel. From the Apollo Bar, he could see a steady stream of trawlers making their way for the first catch. Ferries plied the silent seas carrying tourists to the Elephanta Island. It had been two months since he had been attacked in Bihar, and now he had fully recuperated. He couldn’t remember a thing. The Forest Warden of Hazaribagh had found him lying bloody in a semi-comatose state, and had admitted him to a municipal hospital. From there, he had been flown to Mumbai and transferred to the Bombay Hospital. “You had been bitten by wolves. Lucky to have escaped alive”, the doctor told him as he was being discharged. 26

Wanting to see the sights of Mumbai, Amit took a cab outside the hotel and headed up north. When the cab was passing through Byculla, a sudden urge grabbed Amit’s senses. He stopped the vehicle, paid the driver, and walked in a straight line, attracted like a magnet to the tall iron gates in front of him. It was the entrance to the Zoo. 27

He bought a ticket, and wandered around, sniffing the pleasant morning air. Two famished lions swatted flies in their dingy, claustrophobic cage. A tiger, shorn of its once regal aura, was lapping water at a fetid pool, bones sticking out of its ribs for the world to see. As Amit approached the monkey cages, the marmosets suddenly broke out in a furious rage. They chattered at the top of their voices, banging their heads on the cage rods, baring their teeth in anger, even as they wildly gesticulated their fists. Amit felt distinctly uncomfortable, making sure he exited the enclosure in a jiffy. 28

Finally, Amit found what he was looking for. The board outside the cage proclaimed Cannis Lupus Pallipes. It was lonely. Empty. “Bloody humans, when will they ever learn?” he cursed as he made his way outside. 29

At night, Amit sat on the porch of his hotel room nursing a drink. The moon was high in the sky, a few clouds blowing across its cratered surface. He felt a strange twitch in the pit of his stomach. Its intensity increased, and Amit staggered to lie down on the floor. Large clumps of shaggy hair started growing around his wrist. His ears bloated with blood. A rush of cartilage swamped his nose with sinewy mucous. Canines appeared, accompanied by a foul, beast-like breath. The nails of his feet grew large, retracting into his paws. Amit smiled in sweet agony. A Mozart CD droned softly in the background. But just one voice echoed in Amit’s wolfen ears. It was a hushed male growl…“Your concrete cities shall become our playgrounds once again. Your parks, our hunting grounds. Soon, we shall rule over you…”30

‘It is extremely difficult to conserve a species, when the majority of the human population is opposed to its survival.’31