The trek is a bloody tough one. Hot and steep. And busy. And there are of course the monkeys. I’ve never seen monkey colonies as big or violent as these – possibly taking their cue from human cousins. The dominant species which has displaced the local Languor (small, furry, very friendly and cuddly) population, looks like a cross between baboons and the common city monkey.
They’re drawn to human populations and road sides, gathering scraps, leftovers and litter left by careless and ignorant folks. There are countless signs urging people not to litter, numerous litterbins and even police warnings on the PA systems. When you see a monkey carrying it’s kids, you immediately think, “Aw, how cute.” This is a normal, evolutionary response to help ensure the survival of aesthetically pleasing creatures. However, these little bastards have taken advantage of this – go near a mother and kid unit proffering a banana or similarly clichéd food item, and you’ll be set upon by at least two to three large males who will kindly relieve you of all snack items. They’ve got opposable thumbs and know how to open crisp packets, use straws for juice cartons and know how to get into your purse. I saw at least five people get mugged by Alpha males, and I was also a victim.
On my way back down, we took a set of steps that went through a grove heavily populated by monkeys. I was chatting to a fellow pilgrim and didn’t notice the small furry shadow that barred my path until it was too late. We halted in the middle of the path, whilst we sized each other up – me, a 27-year old man with knowledge of several martial art disciplines and human pacification techniques; and him, a 3-foot tall monkey with exceptionally prominent genitals, and an arse so red it could signal passing aircraft. He probably had a couple of diseases and intestinal parasites and well as a nasty bite. He’d seen my bottle of Sprite. He put his hand out and beckoned me to give it to him. I briefly toyed with the idea of resisting until I saw the glow of several eyes from the neighbouring trees. I relinquished my pop, remembering the times my friends used to get mugged on the school bus in Kings Heath - now I know how it feels.
However, this animal-human conflict isn’t limited to Primates. The aforementioned donkey-wallas have practices that would probably induce the RSPCA to launch a full-scale military intervention. I don’t think that the requirements for an operating license on the mountain include proficient animal husbandry. Less the carrot, a whole lot more stick. On the way up, I saw one walla hit a donkey so hard, he broke his bamboo over the poor creature’s rump. I tried to step in to intervene, but Mum held me back – I suddenly felt as though I was in a microcosmic reflection of the UN security council. Probably just as well, as the dude would probably have battered me. Around the next corner, he tried to ride it and it bucked him slightly. He got off and punched it very hard in the face. I thought that kind of thing only happened in that episode of ‘The Young Ones’. At this point, Mum lost her cool and both of us shouted at the Walla. He just ignored us and sped off up the mountain. Ghandi once said that you can judge a nation by how it treats its animals...
Anyhow, the rest of the pilgrimage was a wonderful experience, and I highly recommend that everyone who travels to this part of India should do Vaishno Devi. It takes about 6-8 hours to climbv up the mountain – 1.5 if you’re with the army and run the whole way up, like Devraj who we met. He’d just got back from doing a tour of Africa with the UN peacekeeping force. This dude was hardcore, and really illustrates the point that the Indian Military services are the best in the world. But with wars on about ten fronts that have been waged for over 30-40 years, you can’t expect anything less. The best thing about doing a Darshan is the people you meet along the way and all their stories. I’ve blathered for far too long on this so if you want to know more, gimme a shout.
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