With a snap jerk of the lever, the old generator burst into life. It emitted a slight humming sound at first. This was followed by a loud rumble and soon the entire yard lit up in a mosaic of small blinking lights that weaved a mesmerizing pattern of gossamer against the black canvas of the forest behind. Seemed like Dipawali was here again, but it was still the month of August. The heat was unbearable although the hour hands of the clock were pointing towards midnight. Meanwhile, a swarm of mosquitoes were probing their proboscises deep into the skins of both boys, who were clad only in their torn pajamas. But Lale and Bhudhan were least bothered. Their eyes were transfixed on the flashing lights, their faces inspired in awe. Wiping off the sweat from his brow, Jaggu gathered his strewn wrenches and placed them carefully in his worn out tool box. “You boys stay awake ,” he said. “And watch out for elephants”. That night, however, the elephants did not come.
A couple of months ago Ms Becky, a volunteer from South California had arrived at Jaldevi Lower Secondary School to teach seventh graders English Grammar. One hot afternoon, while she was explaining the differences between gerunds and past participles to her pupils inside the poorly-lit, thatch-roofed, earthen-floored classroom, she had a hard time gaining their attention. In order to alleviate the boredom of her wards, she had narrated to them the inspiring story of Richard Turere, a Masai boy who had invented lion lights. She told them how Turere had come up with the idea of using flashing LED lights to conjure images of moving people, thus keeping the lions at bay during the nights, ensuring the safety of his father’s cattle. The story certainly struck a chord with her students because the village of Chandrapuri had long been battling marauding wild elephants.
“Can we use that for warding off elephants as well, Mam?” Bhudhan had asked excitedly, in his broken English.
“Why? I never thought about it. I suppose you can,” Becky had answered presumptuously.
From the next day onwards the group of children, led by Lale, the eldest of them, had all formed a team to devise a connection of lights to scare away the elephants.
Chandrapuri had always been a black spot. It lied on the outskirts of the Chitwan National Park, and herds of wild elephant migrating from India invariably used it as a corridor. During hot summers, when the mating season was in full swing, tuskers appeared unbeknownst to the villagers, and ran a rampage. Besides, the dense sugar cane fields along the banks of the Rapti River proved especially tempting to the parade of pillaging pachyderms. Last year, after several rounds of pleading with government officials for security went unheeded, the villagers took it upon themselves to form a vigilante group to guard their fields. Young men who had volunteered were provided sticks and batons, and the leaders among them were armed with three Knot Three rifle. Further, they were instructed to repeatedly beat the Nanglo. The sound produced would supposedly scare the elephants away. However, fearing that armed rebel groups may start operating on the pretext of protecting villages from rogue elephant herds, local officials had outlawed such groups, assuring villagers that paramilitary troops would soon be provided to keep the elephants at bay.
Unfortunately, the troops were never deployed and the elephants kept coming. Just last April, Purna Maya, Lale’s grandmother, was trampled to death. She had been returning from the river after cleaning her utensils when a tusker suddenly showed up. Lale was distraught by her death, and wanted revenge. On the night of the unfortunate incident he and his cousin Budhan had stolen into the kitchen, grabbed a sickle each and ventured into the forest. Under the moonlight, they had forded the river, catching a narrow
trail entered the thicket. Around a mile from the village, when they finally saw an elephant far away under a tree, its immenseness had scared the living daylights out of them and they had run away in a frightened stupor. On the way
Jaggu, the repairman had met them. He was returning home after having fixed the Diesel water pump in the nearby village.
After learning what the two boys had set out to do Jaggu yelled, “Are you guys crazy?”
“We wanted to hunt the damned animal that killed my granny!”
Lale replied “Idiots! You can’t attack an elephant with a sickle. You and your brother could have been killed by your stupidity,” Jaggu scolded. “Now, come along. Let me take you home.”
The two boys climbed onto Jaggu’s old Rajdoot bike that made all sorts of clattering noises, and reached home safely.
Despite their misadventure, Lale had taken it upon himself to someday find a way to free the village from the elephant peril. And now, the idea of inventing lights akin to those used Turere to keep lions at bay, seemed very promising to him. The project began with a joint effort put in by all the village children. At first, the elders seemed a bit reluctant, but the perseverance of the boys won them over, and they too chipped in to contribute to the project. With help of Ms Becky, they gathered all necessary information from the Internet and with Jaggu’s resourcefulness, the lighting system was soon devised. Finally, on that August night, while the entire village slept to the low rumble of generator, the lights blinked, keeping elephants at bay.
The Pachyderm lights were an instant success. No elephant dared venture human territory when the lights were on, and the entire village rejoiced. However the local authority was still apathetic. It was only when the Associate Press picked up Ms Becky’s blog entry about the project that the politicians started to take notice, and among them was Sundar Prasad Chaudhary.
Elections were just around the corner and Mr Chaudhary, a carpetbagger, was projected to lose heavily on the Chandrapuri precinct putting his entire campaign in jeopardy. He was a corpulent man with cleanly trimmed moustache and thinning hair. He was well-known for his shrewdness, and was always devising schemes to gain political clout. He even tried to gerrymander the district by removing Chandrapuri from his area. But the election commission quashed his appeal leaving his campaign listless. Now, upon hearing the news, he called an emergency meeting with his advisers.
“This is a golden opportunity. We must somehow become custodians of this project and win votes,” Sundar Prasad banged the table.
His advisers approved of the idea but couldn’t think of ways of capitalising on it. Finally Ram Bilash, one of the politician’s right hand men said, “Let’s donate an expensive sound proof generator to the project. This will certainly help”.
Sundar Prasad and his team loved the idea. They soon amended their campaign plans to include a stop at Chandrapuri.
On the third week of October, when cold winds swayed the Tarai, amazing scenes could be witnessed in Chandrapuri. A troupe of local artists, accompanied by party cadres, had flocked into the village. They were having merry time canvassing votes and highlighting the ‘imminent contribution’ made by Mr Chaudhary. From every corner, posters of Sundar Prasad, gleaming with a majestic smile, beamed at passers-by. On the afternoon the politician was to make his speech, Mr Chaudhary, flanked by his security and henchmen, arrived in the impoverished village in a white sedan.
In the school ground, on a make shift platform decorated with paper flowers, Mr Chaudhary spoke eloquently, his speech full of rhetoric: “My dear brothers and sisters, it doesn’t matter how large an area we cover; what really matters is how well we defend our perimeter. This indigenous project that showcases our ingenuity vouches for this statement. I assure you my friends that if you elect me as your official, I will make sure your efforts won’t go to waste, and your future and that of your children will be secured. So it is with humbleness and humility that I donate this new Japanese sound proof generator to make this project a success.”
So with lot fan fare, the new generator was installed and the Pachyderm Lights was officially inaugurated. The ceremony was followed by a party where alcohol and bongs were freely distributed. After the merry-making everyone went to sleep. However, that night, the elephants returned.
The aftermath was devastating. Many houses were destroyed and several people were killed in the ensuring stampede. However, Sundar Prasad and his followers fled before any harm was done. On the following day Lale and Jaggu were arrested for endangering the life of a prominent politician with their foolhardy endeavours. An official inquiry was set up, and riding on the wave of sympathy, Mr Chaudhary got elected to office.
A few month later an official inquiry report was published on the bottom of the ninth page of national dailies. It stated: “It was not the light, but the sound of generator, that had kept the elephants away”.
- Dipesh Karki
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