HISS AND TELL
The next time you see a snake, dial the rescue brigade
Atiny guest is jumping on Abhijeet Awsarmol’s cot. “Should I get the worm?” he threatens her. “No,” the three-year-old girl screams, flops down and apologises. She knows what “the worm” means. Everyone at the lush green Post and Telegraph colony in Andheri, does. It is 19-year-old Awsarmol’s name for those dark creatures that often startle residents in their shower, under their pillow or even atop their television sets. Displaced by rainwater, snakes often emerge from their boroughs and enter the flats here. They haven’t been to Aswarmol’s though. “They probably know,” jokes the frail teenager who, having caught 111 snakes so far, now bears the aura of a local saviour.“We can only rest knowing he is around,” says Jyoti Khaire, a neighbour, about the boy who has been rescuing snakes here for two years now. It started off as a hobby for the commerce student, who caught his first snake at 16, but soon, became an incurable habit. As soon as he gets a call, Awsarmol only asks for the size and rushes with a wooden stick. “I try to hold the snake by its neck when its mouth is closed,” says Awsarmol, who then puts them in plastic jars and releases them at Aarey Milk colony or the Sanjay Gandhi national park. Many of these are venomous reptiles such as cobra and russell’s viper
that along with the non-poisonous common kraits and rat snakes, have slithered into his Facebook profile. “Snake catching is a necessity,” says the animal lover, who does not charge for the service.
It is this need for conservation that draws hundreds of nature lovers across Mumbai and Thane toward the risky job, for which there is no formal training in India. “We learn by watching,” says 35-yearold Parthiv Sanghavi, who is part of an informal group called Reptile Rescue and Study Centre (RRSC). It gets close to a 1,000 calls per year mostly from Gorai and Borivali though of late, some have also been spotted at Worli Sea Link. The usual suspects include cobras, russell's viper, krait and rat snakes. Pythons are rare. “We first ask the caller if the snake is visible. Then, we inquire about the colour, length and pattern,” says Sanghavi. Accrodingly, they plan their strategy. Many use sticks, tongs or snake hooks, but others like Raju Lade, an estate agent, simply picks up the snake with his bare hands.
Monsoon is the busiest season for catchers but it is not uncommon to find snakes in bathrooms during summer or inside warm car engines during winter. Extracting them from spaces such as lift chambers, air-conditioners or electric meter cabins, can be tricky. “Since these involve dealing with hightension wires, we have had to call up Reliance to request them to cut off power supply,” says 35-year-old HR professional Kaivalya Verma. Releasing, they say, is the most important part. “To avoid dumping, we try to find newer and safer pockets,” says Verma. At times, during the gap between rescue and release, catchers have kept the snake at home, inviting family member's ultimatums such as: “Either the snake stays or you stay.”
In the course of dealing with the angry cobra or the temperamental russel's viper “whose piercing
whistle sounds like a pressure cooker,” says Lade, they learn more about people. “In the slums of Chembur, we are offered cold drinks while in the bungalows of Malabar Hill, even a glass of water is rare,” says Verma. Many a times, people refuse to pay even conveyance. Once, a bored housewife from Andheri, called RRSC, saying there’s a snake in her godown. After two hours of rearranging scraps in vain, catchers realised “she just wanted to get her godown cleaned.” They’ve also met women who ask for snake skin and drug addicts who demand venom.
Routinely, snake catchers, who have seen people breaking coconuts in front of the serpents, have to clear the venom of superstition. No, snakes do not drink milk or dance to the tunes of pregnant flutes (they are deaf). “They also can't seek revenge or they would've found me,” says Awsarmol.
Most rescuers are against “showmanship” but they wish for more support. “I don’t want a certificate,” says Awsarmol. “Give me a pair of tongs,” he says, referring to the Rs 4,000-worth instrument. It can help him get the worm.
OPERATION COBRA: Abhijeet Awsarmol (left) has caught over a hundred snakes