Getting the monkey off our backs

All hell broke loose when a monkey was spotted in my apartment building. A resident lamented that the monkey walked in through his main door, ate food lying on his dining table, and walked out through the open balcony. Another was aghast that monkey poop was littered in front of the gym in the building. A few residents sympathised and worried for the safety of their families.

Others sympathised with the monkey, saying that the poor animal must have been starving and looking for food. Yet others, the devout among us, worshipped it as Lord Hanuman. Suddenly, bananas, cooked rice, biscuits, etc., started appearing on open terraces and ledges as offerings to the simian.

Understandably, many were scared of the monkey, particularly parents of young children who complained that they were too scared to allow their children to play outside. A terrified lady claimed that the monkey waylaid her, snatched the fruits that she had just bought from her bag, and left the bag in the corridor. The menace was so severe that we wondered if there were more than one of them.

As can be surmised, the monkey was an unwelcome intruder and had to be driven out. “Who will do that?” was the next question.

As dutiful citizens, we contacted the Blue Cross only to be told that the matter of the monkey belonged to the wild life category and it was up to the forest department to help. Then we discovered we were not alone facing the monkey menace; there were 20 other cases, and the forest department couldn’t come to our rescue immediately. Thankfully, a relative of a resident held a senior position in the said department. After a bit of “wire-pulling,” the forest department dispatched its employees with a trap to catch the monkey. Once caught, it would be released in its natural habitat.

The monkey, however, was smarter than we thought; it refused to be entrapped. But vanished. The forest department personnel advised us not to leave any food in common areas. All residents were sufficiently warned not to offer food to the simian specimen. If he cannot find food, he may leave our apartment in search of greener pastures, according to the secretary. That seemed to be the end of the monkey affair, and peace prevailed. But only for a short time.

A few residents have resumed the habit of leaving food on the ledges for their forefathers, who are believed to be visiting the earth in the form of birds. The rest of us are crossing our fingers that the food doesn’t also attract our evolutionary ancestors.