“Last night my father came home with a baby monkey. He was
very small and cried the whole time….”
This is a comment that I had unintentionally overheard in a
children’s park. I am an Animal Rights Kid Activist, and the mere thought of a
wild beast being forcefully tamed down and made to adjust to a ‘domestic
condition’ made me feel uneasy and disgusted. Keeping a small baby monkey away
from its natural habitat and mother is detrimental for his growth and development,
and can cause harm to him and people in his vicinity, alike.
The inner investigator in the thirteen old me awoke and I
marched around the public property trying to identify the owner of the voice
which spoke of such horrific deeds. I tried going and peeking around seesaws
and swings, but finding the area deserted I diverted towards the equally sparsely
populated ‘slide and mud pit’ area.
There were groups of preschool children and toddlers trying to
walk, toddle or run from the slide to the mud pit. A pair of preschool boys sat
in the mud pits, amiably chattering, as they ‘tried to find old big golden treasure.’
A couple of girls were on the slides, while the sitting area was filled with
nannies and moms, looking over their ‘big children’ as they simultaneously
tried to calm their ‘younger bundles of joy’.
No one in the neighbourhood, except for the boys, could be
seen talking about the poor baby monkey, and I was desperate to save the poor
innocent monkey. I approached the boys and commanded
to know about the monkey. They, gleefully told me that, Mr. Afron, Mac’s father
had bought home a cranky, ill tempered ‘monkey’ home and he was kept covered in
sheets. Mac also felt that his parents gave undue attention towards the little
beast, and he was worried that the monkey would become spoiled. On knowing that
the monkey was covered in sheets, I panicked, and could imagine the monkey being
strangled to death among the folds of sheets. I hurriedly inquired about the
monkey’s whereabouts, and told the boys to hurry up and cough out the information.
Well, younger kids, these days, are very sensitive and
spoiled, and my simple question seemed to intimate them and tears started
swelling up in their eyes. Before I could react, they scurried off, like a pair
of scared chickens, into the arms of their dotting parents. I felt they were
going to be scolded for being meek, but no, the parents came across to me and
demanded to know my motive behind ‘harassing’ the kids.
I was mortified and taken aback. I hadn’t expected this, and
I quickly stammered out the whole episode and conversation. I stressed on the
fact that the health of monkey was in danger and knowledge about his
whereabouts vital. I was quite sure the Moms would see eye to eye with me on
this matter and take required actions, but I was surprised to see a mix of
confused and amused expressions on their faces. After a moment of thought they
burst out laughing.
I patiently stood as they suffered through the consequence
of ‘laughter gas’ that I had seemed to ignite. After a long wait, they finally
introduced me to the probable monkey. It wasn’t a monkey, but a descendant of
apes, a human, or, more specifically, Mac’s three week cranky old sister, who,
for some reason, Mac had comprehended to be a monkey.
About the blog:
Hey Peeps!
Writing this story was so much fun. This was why I made this blog- to enjoy writing and posting short, whack-y stories in my very own section of WWW.
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