Monkey Business

So yesterday, I went out in the morning to run a few errands this morning with mum in tow. We got a spot of lunch at a South Indian cafe at King’s Circle, which is close to where we stay. On coming out, I thought I saw a rather oddly shaped dog on the pavement.

Only. It wasn’t a dog. It was a monkey.

India is known for a proliferation of monkeys and cows, the former in places near forested areas and the latter just everywhere. In spite of seeing monkeys often in the ghats, on the way to Pune, one in Mumbai, in the middle of the city, in a populated area, with loads of foot traffic and vehicular traffic, is an uncommon sight.

My mother darkly muttered about rabies and menace, and we walked away after I snapped a quick picture. However, other people reacted differently.

Did they shout or yell? Nope. Did they call animal control (or whatever India’s equivalent is)? Nope. Did they run away? Nope.

They fed the monkey bananas. A fruit seller tried to give the monkey a coconut too.

It is official. My country is bananas.


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