A Mauling and a Mangal Yatra.

          Read about the young man who was killed by a tiger in his (the animal’s, not the boy’s) cage? The incident was filmed by someone and aired over television all day and night on Tuesday.

“Ghastly.” For once, Sri Husband and I both agreed on something. Such pleasures (sorry to use this word, though unrelated, in connection with such a horrific incident) are short-lived.

          “The government is responsible for this accident,” I said.

          Sri Husband asked, “How and why?”

          Sometimes I have to explain things to him slowly and clearly: “Because there was nothing to prevent the young man from getting into the cage. He climbed the barricade and fell down.”

          Animated response: “Barricade? There was a cage, a double barrier, the guard had warned him, warning boards and placards are everywhere, and everyone knows that tigers aren’t pussy-cats.”

          Me: “Obviously that wasn’t enough. A young Indian of productive age lost his life.”

          “What do you think the government could have done better?”

          “They could have walls around these animals with proper ceilings so no one can climb or tumble inside.”

          Sri Husband: “These animals are in a certain environment, forest-like. City-people should see them in their natural surroundings. At least as natural as possible. That’s the whole purpose of having a zoo, no? How will people look at the animals through walls? ”

          I tackled that one easily: “The walls could have windows for people to look inside. I once read about someone who pretended to feed a deer and put a rubber-band around its tongue. The deer died. The cause of death was discovered after the autopsy. That’s why we should have walls. To protect both animals and humans.”

          He gave me the exasperated look he gives the television anchors when they ask bereaved parents ‘what/how do you feel?’. I didn’t know what I’d said wrong. I waited for a second, then asked, “You always take the government’s side. Why?”

          “You can’t blame the government for everything. I just feel citizens should be more responsible, more disciplined.

Me: “For example?”

He: “No connection to the zoo episode, but… spitting on the road is an example.”

          Me: “The government should arrest/fine every person that spits.”

          “Which means it’ll have to employ several lakh staff to follow around habitual and occasional spitters. Great idea.” I ignored the touch of sarcasm. Also wondered where he got the word ‘spitters’ from. Never heard of it, but I know what/who he meant. This is one word the Oxford/Chambers dictionaries should include. Pukka Hindustani. Apt.

          I said: “Of course great idea. So many more jobs will get created. What’s the problem?”

          “Impractical, no?”

          “No.” I could see the streets filled with challan-distributors, fining spitters and pee-ers. Government coffers would swell. There would be activity and vibrancy all around. And in zoos they could have people to penalize those who tease the inmates or want to enter tigers’ cages.

          I said, never giving up a chance to have my voice heard, “There’s a lot the government can do in other ways: ensure that every child passes from class to class, school to college and promote people automatically. This nonsense about exams and performance is a western concept imported by desh ke drohi.”

          “What does that have to do with zoos?” Sri Husband doesn’t give up either.

“Just saying,” I withdrew.

Customary silence over, the conversation went off-track.

Sri Husband: “I read that the government’s going to have skill-banks. Who knows, we might even have changes in attitude.”

“Like?”

“Neatness outside the home, standing in queues, punctuality, honesty, living honourably, wanting to do what is right and legal rather than finding loopholes to circumvent regulations… and not jumping over wire fences that lead to disasters… what say?”

Abba. Lecture-baazi. He was in of those moods, feeling good about things.

“As things are, things remain,” I thought in silent disagreement.

          He changed the topic quickly.

He’s good at reading my mind.

          “This Mars Orbiter Mission is brilliant,” he said, showing a spark of enthusiasm. “ISRO’s put India in the world-class league.”

“Mission Mangalyaan, the world’s cheapest Mars mission?”

Sri Husband nodded appreciatively, not believing I’d actually heard about it.

I wondered: “Now what will happen to horoscopes? People with saade saati and mangal? Will this complicate our traditions? What if someone read the zoo-victim’s horoscope? Would it show time and cause of death?”

Sri Husband: “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. What do you believe?”

“In common-sense,” he retorted.

Feedback: sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in