Biltu And The Monkeys
Manojendu Choudhury
3 September 2007, 14:20Biltu was floating in air, and with vigorous manipulation of his limbs, he was able to propel himself forward, backward, up and down. As he immersed himself in this sensation of being lighter than air, a voice deep inside told him that he was dreaming and all his perception of floating was unreal. Biltu didn’t let himself be bothered by this voice. In his nine years he had developed the uncanny knack of being able to separate fantasy from reality and still exalt in both. He knew that later, awake, he would cherish these moments of freedom from gravity, so he willed them to linger.
As he grew comfortable in manoeuvring himself, he looked around to take his bearings. Ahead of him the environment had a prominent greenish tinge that glowed red from a distant source, and over all diffused by a light blue. The smell of fresh, new, young leaves slowly infiltrated his nostrils. The last vestige of rational argument, clamouring against the visual feel of his dream, was drowned by the subtle but overwhelming smell of green foliage and moist soil.
Biltu moved towards the nearest dark spot of green. He was moving much easier now, in fact, he was swimming. The bluish tinge resembled the deep end of the swimming pool where he went every Sunday. This familiarity encouraged him to swim vigorously through the air till he reached the green tinge that formed the outer wall of a dense jungle. The trees were very tall, there wasn’t any sunlight, but everything was beautifully visible. He clutched the nearest vine and propelled himself forward. The Tarzan trick seemed so simple to emulate as he jumped from branch to branch, tree to tree, in this strange enchanting forest. The environment was very fresh, newly washed; the green leaves were damp, laden with dewdrops threatening to fall to the soft, moist ground.
Soft breezes caused a murmur among the slowly swaying trees. Biltu hit the ground following a double-vault somersault, marvelling at his gymnastic skills he wondered if it would have won him a gold medal at the Olympics. Standing on ground, he looked around, and up. The endless streak of swaying and shifting green extended everywhere without any break. Completely alone, he wasn’t scared but intrigued, and decided to climb a treetop to get a better view. However, soon he realized that despite his newly acquired Superman skills, reaching the top was far beyond his capacity. Undeterred, like an expert trapeze acrobat he used the vines and the branches to swing and jump deep inside the jungle. Revelling in this joyous newfound freedom, he lost all measure of time in the labyrinth of green.
The perfect symmetry of the unending green, the rhythmic swish of the swaying trees and the cool breeze was suddenly broken by a sound. The reverie broken, Biltu perked his ears to note any sequel to that sound. Yes, there were some distant screeching and squealing, with some vigorous rustle of the leaves. A bit unnerved, Biltu moved towards the sound through the trees, his senses alert. He clutched the vines stronger now as he swung himself, made sure of a good grip of the branch while landing, and slowed his speed as he concentrated hard to see through the green and blue haze. The sounds were more distant now, the source, perhaps more than one, was moving away. Having nothing else to guide him towards any other preferential direction, he followed the sounds.
The sounds were growing distant and Biltu had to accelerate to keep up. He had to jump harder, swing faster, and try out some complex manipulations in the dense cluster of trees. As he moved, he found the surroundings changing its character. The trees were thicker and further apart, the increasingly prominent heavy branches adding more reddish and brownish tinge to the atmosphere, the grass below was longer, forming more prominent thickets with of some dry and brown clearings making an appearance here and there.
The sounds guiding slowly died off, leaving Biltu suddenly feeling lonely. He stopped to regain his breath, sitting on a thick branch, with a thin vine entwining him to prevent any fall. He surveyed the area. The scenario was rougher, with more of the brown and less of the green, and slightly rocky ground with small loose pebbles littering the soil. Amidst them was undergrowth of harsh bushes, some of them nettled. The trees were wider, rougher, and unwaveringly stronger, but appeared to be less in height, although even now the treetops were unassailable. The light had the appearance of diffused sunlight.
Biltu craned his neck in the general direction where the last of the sounds had emanated from. Despite his confidence ebbing with the sudden awareness of loneliness, he decided to keep moving in that direction. With a sense of apprehension, he grasped the vine securely, swung himself aloft, and propelled forward. As he was swinging to the next tree he was caught in two minds, whether to catch the branch protruding forward or lurch for the vine that was hanging a couple of feet behind. He missed both as his fingers brushed the branch and he couldn’t reach the vine.
Face down he was rushing on to the ground twenty feet below, when he spotted another smaller branch jutting out from the thick midriff of the tree, a little to the left. He swerved as he fell, the back of the hands scraped the branch and as his head was passing it he desperately lurched his legs and the left leg caught it, breaking his fall but nearly tearing his leg apart. Hanging from the branch on his knee, he tilted and jerked his head up, grasped the branch with his hands, and climbed up.
Catching his breath, he felt a throbbing pain at the knee joint. The scraps and scratches on hands were pricking while the mild laceration on his left leg had a tingling burning sensation. He should have worn trousers instead of the baggy shorts, in this wild land. He also realised he was without shoes and not being accustomed to walking barefoot outside of his home, he suddenly felt vulnerable. Looking around he found the nearby trees suddenly too far apart to jump into, and slowly climbed down to the ground.
The ground here hurt his bare feet. He went in the direction of where he had last heard the screeching sounds. As he walked, he found that the surroundings increasingly resembled the cluster of wilderness behind his home on the outskirts of the city. But this jungle was far denser. Even after monsoon when the bushes grew tall and the trees were green and full, the hilly backwoods beyond the short scrubland behind his home was never so dense. But dense or not, Biltu grew in strength as he realized the similarity of this wilderness and the hilly backwoods behind his home that he surveyed daily from the balcony as well as the bedroom window of his ground floor apartment.
With confidence returning, the pain in his leg slowly subsided, and the scratches didn’t prick anymore. He grew cheerful as he strode along the bushes, warily skirting the thorny ones. Suddenly the leaves atop a thick tree few yards ahead rustled, the branch shook hard, and a monkey leapt out. Jumping onto a nearby branch the monkey peered carefully at Biltu, with an expression of a nonchalant curiosity. Biltu stopped in his tracks, startled but not shocked, as if he had been expecting something like this. The monkey seemed to be a natural extension of this forest that was increasingly reflecting the environs of his home.
Their house was in the outskirts of the city, but not at the edge, although it appeared so because of a hill that separated the rest of the human settlements from the main part of the city. The traffic laden circuitous road around the base of the hill not withstanding, the unoccupied hill did provide an apparently forested environ to their colony. The building that housed Biltu’s apartment was nearest to the edge of the trees at the base of the hill. There had been rumours of a few people sighting a fox in the hill, but everyone was aware that monkeys were omnipresent in that small jungle.
Boys double the age of Biltu or less, who hated to be referred to as boys, fed their hunger for adventurous accomplishments by making impromptu forages into the hilly jungle, carrying back tales of encounters with monkeys. Recently the monkeys had been spilling out of the confines of the wild into the abodes of their more civilized successors. They were developing the art of fearlessly rummaging through the kitchens of humans for food and Biltu’s home, being on the ground floor, had been one of the worst sufferers. A couple of times Biltu with his clan of friends had chased a few monkeys away by pelting small stones and pebbles, but on a few occasions they had to be rescued by the older boys when the contingent of the monkeys was larger.
The wood on the hill and the presence of monkeys were interconnected, so Biltu was apprehensive. He had been nearly expecting a monkey to appear when he was following the sound in this dense forest, and here it was. The monkey was alone, observing Biltu from the tree. It had a very formidable appearance, but didn’t look threatening. It exuded a calmness stemming from the lifelong experience of being one who generally has control over whatever the situation he finds himself in. The composed expression was what stopped Biltu from executing his reflex action, that of throwing small stones at monkeys who vandalize his house.
The monkey turned away, looked over his back once, and swung on a vine behind the tree, disappearing quickly amongst the amalgam of brown and green. Biltu realized suddenly that the Tarzan ability had deserted him. He was unable to climb up the tree and swinging the vines was an impossibility now. Having nothing else to do he proceeded towards the direction the monkey had moved, on foot. The path was no longer on level ground but curved up slowly. The bruised leg was throbbing with pain again, the rocky climb exhausted him, but he carried on.
After a laborious walk uphill, Biltu climbed atop a medium sized ledge, and reached a clearing. Some grass were scattered over the rocky surface confined by nettled hedges at the boundary of the clearing, and the narrow path beyond was surrounded by trees. Biltu surveyed the empty area before walking on. As he moved into the centre of the clearing the monkeys slowly appeared, all around him, away from the clearing. Mostly hanging from the trees, a few scattered along the hedges, they appeared to consider Biltu with mild curiosity. Daunted by the sheer number surrounding him, Biltu resisted his urge to throw stones at the creatures that he had started to regard as enemies. Hesitating, Biltu considered whether he should go back down the path he had come. The two monkeys prowling the hedge nearest to him sensed his indecision and with a sudden menacing gesture jumped into the clearing, cutting off his path towards the ledge.
Biltu looked around, fear sending a mild tremor in his legs. Directly in front, where the wooded path curved and was lost among the trees, sat the old monkey who had guided him to this spot. The Old One still had his composed expression, but was regarding Biltu with more curiosity now, as if testing him, wondering what his reaction would be. Biltu tried to calm his throbbing heartbeat, but felt it might burst inside him. Seeing him rooted to his spot, the two monkeys behind him came up on him a couple of steps, baring their gleaming teeth. Biltu tried to muster his self-confidence and started walking forward along the path.
The Old One scaled up the nearest tree, giving him a clear access away from the clearing. But the other members of the troupe now slowly, but with a definite sense of purpose, closed in around him. The two monkeys behind him were jeering from near at hand when Biltu bent forward, and his eyes alert, gathered a few small stones in his hands. The monkeys collectively hissed at him, their anger was evident as they acknowledged this act of aggression. A cold wave went down Biltu’s spine.
His heightened sense of alertness endowed him with a wider vision, and he reckoned about a dozen young monkeys were entering the clearing. The others were in observation mode, as if testing the battle acumen of their next generation. Biltu’s eyes located the Old One in the tree straight ahead; its aloof but observant expression provided him with a strange reassurance. Biltu inched forward, small half steps at a time, the dozen monkeys crouched and crawled towards him at his every move. The gap between Biltu and the troupe was shrinking fast. Biltu looked ahead, a young monkey; probably the youngest of the lot, emboldened by the supporting horde was on a route that would nearly cut him off from escape.
Biltu, now walking briskly towards that end of the clearing, feigned the action of throwing a stone at the monkey cub, it shrieked, jumped a couple of spaces back, and bared its teeth, glaring with whatever menacing expression it could muster. Despite the desperate situation, Biltu couldn’t help a smile at the animation of the young cub. Instinctively Biltu looked up ahead at the Old One, looking for the succour of an ally as a duel with this young cub seemed imminent.
The Old One had climbed down and was resting on a low branch. With still an impassive demeanour, it clicked some instruction to the cub that crawled back a couple of steps. Biltu reacted by taking gentle but laborious steps forward. As he reached near the far end of the clearing, he peered down the curve of the path beyond the tree of the Old One. With the horde closing down on him from behind and the sides, Biltu shrieked in surprise and horror. The muttering and jeering of the monkeys were lost in the despair of seeing his house, all ten floors of it, jutting out like a sore thumb in the middle of the trees, a hundred metres ahead on the left. The building seemed vacant with all the doors and windows open, as if the inhabitants had suddenly fled. The blue towel of his three-year-old brother was hanging at the window of their bedroom on the ground floor. Another horde of monkeys was about to enter the unguarded building. His stomach felt empty and funny as fear gripped him that his three-year-old fellow sibling, Nantu, might be alone in the house.
Overcome by fear, Biltu realized he was shouting as he broke into a run towards his house. The monkeys gave a cumulative screech and closed down upon him. He wildly threw the stones all around to dispel the attackers, missing all of them. The shower of flying stones, despite not hitting anyone, caused a brief pause in the advance of the monkeys and Biltu ran into the path, the curve sending him into an unbalanced tumble. With choking despair, Biltu realized that monkeys were all around him in the trees surrounding his narrow path. The jeering faces seemed to swarm over him, the screeching sounds filling up his senses, creating a void in his mind. Biltu managed to get back on his legs but without any hope of escaping as his legs were about to give out. He felt a loneliness he had never experienced before; without any protection, the nine year old was facing a threat to his existence.
A soft but calloused hand grasped his arm from the side. In his daze, using the last reserve of his energy, Biltu gave a last shot into running, but the hand attached to a hairy body jerked him away from his path. Tumbling again, Biltu was able to gather himself up quickly because the hand pulled him up. A sideways glance confirmed what Biltu had been hoping; the hand belonged to the Old One who was pulling him away. Seeing the Old One the rest of the horde halted for a few moments, giving the two enough leeway to climb a tree. The monkeys renewed the pursuit.
With the Old One guiding him, Biltu was rediscovering his ability to climb trees fast. They jumped from tree to tree, with the whole lot screeching behind them, following them at their heels. The landscape was changing in a blur, but Biltu realized that they were reaching a familiar location, the starting point of his journey. The brown was receding, giving way to more of green and blue, the trees were softer to touch, the air moist. Near the edge of the hypnotic jungle, lurching forward while hanging on a vine, Biltu glanced back to see the distant haze of red. Suddenly his vine jerked, the Old One clasped its hand very strongly on Biltu’s arm, pulling him free of the vine. Dangling him in mid air for a second, the Old One swung him once and threw him over!
Biltu was shocked into paralysis. He hurtled through air, the ability to swim through long forgotten; he awaited the hard thump of his body hitting the ground. He shut his eyes very tight, still falling, and falling….
Something was wrong, he should have hit the ground, but he was still in a free fall….
Would he fall forever? When would he hit the ground? He was dizzy from the free fall and wanted to break free of the heady feeling, he wanted to hit the ground hard, he gathered all his strength and gave himself the hardest shake to break the dizziness….
With a jerk, he sat up, sweating profusely, on his bed. There was a hullabaloo outside, Biltu recognized the monkey’s screams, but those were interspaced by human voices, which suddenly seemed so jarring and unnatural. Biltu looked out of the window, dusk was approaching. He gulped a couple of breaths, and then heaved himself up on his legs, still weak from the exercise of his dreams. The smooth, cold floor felt unpleasant. The feet longed for the rough of the rocks and the smooth of the grass. Biltu trudged to the door, reaching the balcony overlooking the small scrubland and the woody hills beyond.
A dozen of boys with sticks and stones, shouting and gesticulating with hands and feet, had trapped a young monkey cub at the centre of a two semicircular arcs. A few monkeys were jumping in the bushes at the far end, screaming for their companion. The monkey cub in the middle was definitely scared, glaring its large teeth at the boys who were approaching it with some trepidation despite having the advantage in numbers. There were few elders around, most of them women, watching the proceedings from a distance. Biltu’s friend Amit’s mother was howling that the monkey had reached for her fruit basket in the kitchen, but her brave son Rohit, Amit’s elder brother, had chased it off with a cricket bat.
The dream still vividly living in Biltu’s eyes, he developed an immediate empathy for the young monkey. He sensed that a big horde of monkeys was on their way in the backwoods, and things were proceeding towards a macabre battle between the humans and the monkeys, which would be ultimately one-sided. His grandfather had told him that man, with his intelligent coordination and innovation, had overcome all other species on earth.
Still undecided on his course of action, Biltu suddenly noticed that his kid brother Nantu was gleefully running towards the congregation. Biltu instinctively ran to the door, and out. As he ran at the gathering of young fighters, from the corner of his eyes he could see a large group of monkeys approaching the edge of the woods from beyond.
While surrounding the monkey at the centre, the two arcs formed by the boys had openings at two ends, one towards the building and the other towards the woods. The arcs were closing. Nantu was about to enter the circle from the opening at the building’s side when the boys noticed him and all of them shouted at once. The monkeys beyond at the edge of the woods gave a war cry and revealed their presence. The cub at the centre reacted to the shouts by screaming and jumping towards Nantu, him being the youngest and most vulnerable. The shock of the cries braked Nantu’s run into a standstill.
Emboldened by the hopelessness of being surrounded by too many enemies, the monkey cub gave a vicious cry and bared its teeth at Nantu. The boys, now wary of the huge number of monkeys emerging slowly out of the woods, had stopped their gesticulations. Nantu stood paralysed.
Biltu called, in a voice so composed and authoritative that he himself was surprised, “Nantu, stop, don’t move!” Nantu was too scared to move anyway. Biltu moved forward without rushing, but moving purposefully. He reached the opening at his end of the circle, slowly bent to hold Nantu’s hand, and shielded his body with his own. He softly asked Bholu, the boy nearest with a brick in hand poised to shoot, to take Nantu to the safe confines of home. Bholu dropped the brick, with a thud. The monkey reacted sharply with a shrill cry and jumped. “Idiot!”, Biltu hissed, “don’t make any noise!... and don’t come here again.”
Bholu disappeared from sight with Nantu, behind Biltu’s back. Out of nowhere Ramu, the unfriendly middle-aged gardener, with bloodshot eyes and a long hefty stick, appeared and occupied the space left vacant by Bholu. Biltu realized things were trickier now, for Ramu in his inebriated state would not listen to reason. Ramu heaved the stick above his head and gave a war cry, the monkey cub returned in kind, stepping forward. The boys were now not sure of the next course of action, they were not prepared to face a whole army lurking beyond bushes, yet. Their jeering at the cub continued, albeit in lower volume and with a crushed enthusiasm.
“Kill this cub! Teach them a lesson! How dare they ransack our homes!” Amit’s mother was continuously howling. Ramu was wielding the stick ferociously; the young cub at the centre was preparing itself for a do or die battle. Biltu looked directly at the cub. He didn’t want the cub to feel the desperate loneliness he himself had a few minutes before. The cub was slowly moving in a circle, glaring at each person who surrounded it. It ocked gazes with Biltu or a few moments, then shifted towards Ramu.
Biltu softly told Ramu to step back. Ramu looked at Biltu with angry eyes, hating the guts of this young boy who was ordering him. Spitting viciously on the ground Ramu grunted at the monkey, who shot back with a grunt of its own and bared its claws. Biltu instinctively jumped sideways towards Ramu and put his hand in front of his waist, restricting him from any forward motion. The restriction was figurative, and Ramu brushed his hand away.
“Biltu, Ramu, come back here!” All heard Biltu’s mother Jaya’s hushed cry. Ramu, even in his state, couldn’t disobey Jaya’s command. He haltingly stepped back. Biltu didn’t step back, his urge to convey his support to the cub made him move sideways to Rohit, who was standing next in the arc, armed with a cricket bat. Biltu touched his arm, but couldn’t say anything out of deference for him who was like an elder brother to him. Rohit had lost his zeal to fight, but didn’t want to retreat, especially with his mother urging him to fight. He stood there firmly quiet, and his body language halted Biltu. The other boys continued with their jeering at the cub.
A monkey, old and mature, appeared conspicuously apart from everyone at the edge of the wood, and slowly moved towards the circle. The boys at the ends of the arc nearest to the wood hastily moved a few feet away, both clutching their wooden stick and metal rod firmly. With a hush descending on the congregation, the monkey nonchalantly moved towards them and entered the circle. It waited for a few moments, looking at the boys, and Biltu gasped when its glare made contact with his eyes.
Biltu stood transfixed as the Old One, having made the journey from the alternate reality of his dreams to this real reality, moved to the cub and slowly guided it out. Everyone stayed rooted to their spots, quietened by the silent authority of the Old One. The duo quietly but proudly moved across the scrubland. Nearing the base of the hill, the cub rushed at the horde of monkeys. As soon as it reached the edge of the woods, the monkeys gave a shout of victory, jumping around in ferocious glee.
The boys retreated. The monkeys were screeching and hollering and a few were threatening to cross the scrub land to encroach upon the human settlement again. A few men, now appearing from other buildings afar, shooed and chased them away. The monkeys were reluctant to move, but the Old One guided them into the woods, up the hill.
“Biltu, come back!”, his mother’s voice was more urgent now, but also full of relief that a potentially unpleasant situation had been diffused. People were talking excitedly, but most of them were unable to fathom what exactly had happened.
Biltu turned, took a couple of steps towards his home, and impulsively turned back again. He saw the Old One at the edge of the forest, its searing gaze boring into him, even from that distance. He could sense disparagement in the Old One as it eyed the increasing size of the crowd of humanity milling around Biltu’s house. Its expression was even more disdainful when crossed the likes of inebriated Ramu, who was shouting obscenities towards the woods with supercilious bravado, and Amit’s mother, who was sobbing invectives at the now retreating horde. Towards Biltu it gave the briefest of glances and then disappeared in the darkness of the hill as the dusk extinguished all sunlight.
All through the evening and dinner, Biltu was completely lost in his thoughts. He was not much bothered by this strange confluence of the two realities that he had learned to separate into fantasy and real. For him both were equally true. What touched him was the expression of the fear, as well as the loneliness-induced valour, in the young monkey cub when the boys were closing in on it. The vulgar display of Ramu’s valour, the ostentatious bravado of his friends, and the insecurity of Amit’s mother repulsed him. He was inspired by the cool and composed demeanour of the Old One, and awestruck by the beast’s personality. He wondered about the disparaging expression of the Old One’s last sweeping glance. He wanted to talk to the Old One, to tell it that his presence among the attackers should not be construed as an enemy action but rather the opposite. He hoped that the Old One wouldn’t have the same expression of disdain towards him.
He was desperate to talk to the Old One, but didn’t know how to reach out to it. He wondered if it would appear again, and if so when and where. Would their communication be less silent next time? Biltu was trying to will his subconscious into a dream where the Old One would be present, but as he drifted off to sleep, wondered if he would be able to control that alternate reality any more than the real one.
