A Land of Snakes: Part 1
A path lay in front of me. To its right end, there stood a dark blue board, with a human sketch marked with an X on it.
I understood from the sketch that human beings were prohibited to enter the area.
The path was blocked by polythene sacks arranged in a row stuffed with rock pebbles, and fallen branches were placed over them. Tiny twigs and wilted leaves were piled at the bottom of the sacks, the branches as high as my waist. It seemed like a temporarily hewn gate to the path.
I climbed onto a sack, then over a branch, trampled it with my foot, and jumped to the other side. I slipped and fell on a branch underneath my foot. Pieces of rocks pierced into my right palm. I tried to stand up but couldn’t get a hold of myself. I removed the pieces of rock and then wiping the oozing blood on my hair, I stood up and moved ahead.
After a few steps, I noticed a young snake crossing the path. Fascinated, I observed its movements. I decided not to go straight. I looked to my right. There wasn’t a single house or hut, neither was there a path or traces of human feet anywhere. Usually, our Banjara tribe likes to stay in such places. But I couldn’t find any trace of them yet and expected our folks to appear at the scene any minute.
I entered the prohibited area. It was damp and pleasant. The trees in that piece of land had randomly grown into the sky. The green light of those tall trees soothed the earth. There was another signboard to my right side in dark blue with the sketch of a snake half-coiled and standing upright with its hood in full flourish. I understood that human beings were prohibited to enter the land because it was teeming with snakes.
“If this whole land belongs to the snake community, then somewhere at least a snake would have lost the Nagamani, its precious jewel. Let me try to find the Nagamani and carry back its good fortune with me to my mother and my people”, I thought and started searching for Nagamani.
Half an hour passed. I didn’t come across any Nagamani. But I saw a bunch of young snakes crawling onto each other. My heart thumped rapidly. I turned back to leave the place. As I walked past, I noticed a tree with shed snakeskin hanging from the branch. The snake might have rubbed or scratched itself against the tree to get rid of old skin. I wondered how snakes did this. And while I thought about the snake, my nose was assailed by an unbearable odor that made me recall the smell of burnt shed skin.
When my grandfather had come to know he had piles, he took me with him to pick up the shed snake skins in the fields and forest. Later that evening, he prepared a bonfire, collected all burning coals in a metal vessel, and took it a little far from the house. I followed him with the bag.
First, he removed all his clothes and handed them to me. I took his clothes, placed them on my shoulder, and gave him the bag I carried. He picked up the scaly shed skin shreds from the bag and broke it into pieces. He dropped them onto the burning coals and squatted on the smoke rising from the coals. It was a method to cure piles that had been followed for ages in our community. He used to do this thrice a week. But the smoke that arose would permeate every pore of his body. The smoke always had a strange unbearable stench. I wasn’t able to eat, drink, or think about anything pleasant when I recalled its foulness.
A thudding sound startled me.
I felt someone was shouting at me. I turned around. There was no one. After a few minutes, I heard indistinct voices. I went in that direction.
I saw a lad with a polythene sack slung over his shoulder and an old man whose head was coiled with a dirt-stained towel. Both were searching for something. They were gesturing to each other and suddenly shouting like madmen. They saw me and stood stiff. Their eyes questioned me, who are you?
I walked over to them.
“Evaru nuvvu, itu ravoddani telvada?” “Who are you, don’t you know this place is prohibited?”, the old man demanded.
“I was passing through this area, I heard voices and came this way,” I said and fell into my misgivings about what to say if he asked me my whereabouts. My grandmother always advised me not to tell strangers immediately about myself. The old man seemed angry with me. The harshness in his voice brought me back from my thoughts.
I asked him “Sorry, what did you ask?”
“Em chesthuntavu?” “What do you do?”, he repeated the question as if I was dumb.
“I am searching for different types of plants and herbs. My mother sells them wandering the streets. But nowadays no one is interested in herbs and medicinal plants. I don’t have a job right now, although I am searching for a job. I just came this way to hunt rabbits. My mother suggested that I find some medicinal plants. So, I thought of finding Mulikalu or some animal flesh to meet our needs.” I stammered.
I was scared that I might accidentally mention the morning incident about the woman who lost her gold chain, how the policemen caught me because I looked like a suspect, how I pleaded with them that I didn’t know anything, how they were firm in their belief that I had stolen the chain and handed it over to someone. I didn’t stand a chance, which is why I ran away from them and reached this land. But I didn’t tell that old man anything.
“Oh, I see!” The old man exclaimed, “Have you found any such plants here?”
“Yes, I have seen many here, but I am confused about which to take and which to leave. Mostly in prohibited lands like these, we find many herbs.” I said. I mentioned the names of a few herbs like Utthareni, Nalla Thumma, Uduga, Karulimma, Adavi Ulava, Butta Thiga, and the like to sound believable.
“Shall I help you out?” the old man said.
“Thank you. But if I take plants without knowing what she needs, my mother will taunt me, saying that I murdered them needlessly, that my sin would be her sin too. So, I will ask her, to confirm what we need and then take them tomorrow.”
“So presently you don’t have any job, do you?” he said.
I nodded my head. “I am hoping to get some work in one or two days. So, I am wandering looking for one. If I get any odd job, I will be very happy to do it,” I said.
“Sare, niku o vanda istanu, mavodi sanchi nuvvu pattuko. Fine, I will pay you one hundred rupees, hold the polythene sack that my grandson is holding.” Saying this, he came forward, took an amulet from his bag made of palm leaves. The bag was tied to a cloth that was knotted around his waist. He tied the amulet to my waist thread and gave me a small piece of wood to keep until I handed over their sack to them, after finishing the job.
The young lad offered me the sack saying, “There are snakes in the bag, don’t worry.”
I was hesitant for a moment, wondering whether to hold it. “Don’t worry, the snakes won’t harm you. We have been doing this work for ages. Snakes cannot remember your traces or whereabouts. The piece of the wood I gave you will mask your body smell.” The old man said. Unwillingly, I took the sack and held it gingerly by its top. The old man looked at me and smiled. And went on with his work.
Also Read: The Creator of Fate
I was terrified. However, I decided to carry the sack for the new work experience and mostly for 100 rupees. The sack had a strange odor with the smell of blood. The streaks of blood on the sack looked fresh, made at that time.
The old man caught a snake. The lad pulled out a glass jar from the old man’s palm leaf bag and drained the snake’s venom in it. The old man took out a needle with a black thread. He stitched the mouth of the snake. The blood dripped. He threw the snake to the ground and placed his foot on the snake’s tail to hold it.
Another snake was in the hands of the lad. He was chuckling strangely while holding the snake.
I stepped back in fear. The snake seemed to peer at me. I was scared that if the snake slipped from the lad’s hand unexpectedly, it would hunt me to death.
“Itu ra” The old man said. And I walked to him. He asked me to open the sack’s mouth. When I opened it, he picked the snake from under his foot and slipped it inside the sack.
The old man went to the lad who was his grandson. The snake in the boy’s hand was a non-venomous one. So, he snatched the snake from his grandson’s hand and threw it away. He must be teaching his grandson about snakes.
A man came rushing to us.
“Babai, nagumpamu karichinde.” He said to the old man. I was surprised at the old man’s poker face. I would have died from shock had I heard that a man was bitten by a snake.
“Ekkada, let’s have a look.” said the old man. The snake-bitten man showed his left foot. He had already tied a piece of cloth above his foot and given a few cuts, where the snake had bitten him. The blood had drained out, after which he had rushed to the old man. The man’s foot seemed swollen.
The two men were busy discussing the matter. The sack felt too heavy to carry. I placed it down and tied the sack’s mouth with a creeper I found nearby. And stood trembling.
The old man searched the nearby bushes, took out some leaves, crushed them in his hands, extracted the liquid to pour on the cuts and then asked the man to eat the crushed leaves. The man ate it. After a few minutes, he vomited everything along with the food he ate.
Then a few more people came to us. They were each carrying a sack full of snakes. Two men gazed at me for I was a stranger who did not belong to their clan. I didn’t move. They quietly passed by my side.
“Thata podam, manollandaru pothurray“, the lad implored his grandfather. The old man gestured to his grandson to walk out of there along with me. The two of us walked out of the woods. The lad asked me to wait and look after the sack and walked a short distance away from me. I didn’t ask him where he was going.
I was alone and whenever I am by myself, I like telling myself stories. I opened the mouth of the sack and peered into it. The snakes were wriggling inside. Meanwhile the sky was changing, its brightness fading to a golden light, and then from golden to a pale dusk. Birds were returning home along the clear sky. The sun in the sky turned orange with a perfectly round shape. There could be a solar eclipse sometime.
The Telugu heroines, who played the roles of Nagini in movies, those who looked like snakes with human heads, flashed through my thoughts with their mouths stitched. The eyes of those Naginis shone bright as diamonds.
I heard bikes nearby. I stood up holding the sack. And a series of thoughts raced through my mind. If a person on the bike saw me here, what would he do? Was he alone or with others? How many of them were here? If they saw me, would they inform the police? They might even drag me to the police themselves. What could I do in such a situation?
I wondered and headed in the direction of the lad’s departure. But I saw him come towards me with the twigs of an Ankola tree. Each twig was laden with many fruits. The Ankola fruits were ripe and shining from a distance.
“Someone is here, I heard the sound of a bike.” I said.
“Do you fear the sound of the bike?” He ridiculed me.
“It’s not about my fear. If these people inform the police, the policemen will catch us and lock us up in the cages.” I said nervously.
“You are older than me, you should give me courage, instead you are worried. These people come daily here. To play cards, to smoke hemp, to spend time with whores or to kill someone for money.” He said it casually as if it was some routine thing. A city like Hyderabad was not as small as our hamlet. Within the city and its outskirts, many things happened to which we were strangers.
I did not speak a word and stood silent.
“Don’t worry, they won’t come this way, and they don’t care about us.” He said reassuringly to make me feel better.
“Hmmm.” I sighed.
“Come on, sit down. Don’t worry. If they come to us, I will scare them with our snakes.” He said holding my hand and sitting down. He pulled the sack from my hand and placed it down.
**********************************
Image Courtesy: Pinterest
Ramesh Karthik Nayak is the winner of the Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar in Telugu in 2024 for his short story collection, “Dhavlo” . He is the first tribal and the youngest Telugu author to receive this honour at the age of 26. He is a bilingual poet and short- story writer from Telangana. He has four books to his credit, three in Telugu - Balder Bandi, Dhaavlo and Kesula; and a poetry collection in English, Chakmak. He is one of the first writers in Telugu to depict the lifestyle of the Banjaras. His poems have appeared in Poetry at Sangam, Indian Periodical, Live Wire, Outlook India, Nether Quarterly, Borderless Journal, The Riveraine, Ethos literary Journal and Indian Literature, and have been translated into Hindi, Malayalam, Kannada, Bengali and Assamese. A translation of his short story "The Story of Birth" was published in Exchanges: Journal of Literary Translation, University of IOWA. He has received Kalahamsa Kavitha Puraskaram,; Tribal Young Achievers Award from Telangana state government; Banjara Youth Icon Award; Ravi Sastri Katha Puraskaram among others. Some of his poems are part of higher education syllabus in Telugu literature in both Telugu states.