Swaraj tells us about an encounter with a snake, laced with wit and humour. An exclusive for Different Truths. 

A tryst with a snake cannot but be a memorable experience. Particularly if the rendezvous takes place around the midnight hour and the snake remains unhurt. Your wellbeing is taken for granted when you yourself narrate the encounter. In fact, most of us have had at least one encounter with a snake in our lives. Those who have not, have surely heard many old wives’ tales about them. 

Folklore, mythology, and popular films about shape-shifting snakes bring their fabulous stories to us. Lord Shiva has a cobra coiled around his neck. The Bhagvata Purana narrates the story of Lord Krishna’s victory over Kaliya, a many-hooded snake. Lord Vishnu is always reclining on Shesha Nag, who carries the weight of the universe on his head. We have festivals dedicated to snake worship and temples where presiding deities are snakes. 

Terrifying Beauty 

Snakes are beautiful creatures, though their beauty is terrifying. Herpetologists swear by their role in maintaining ecological balance. Snake charmers often relate fantastic tales of miracles snakes can perform. In fact, snakes are much more than being mere reptiles. Fable, reality, fear, beauty, and fatal attraction mingle seamlessly in the image of a snake. For Freud, a snake is a phallic symbol. For Jung a serpent symbolises maturation and integration of ego. 

Dragon iconography is found almost all over the world. It is inspired by giant fabulous serpents and sea fish. Dragons are represented differently in different mythologies. The European dragons spit fire, the Chinese exhale clouds. The word ‘snake’, in fact, is burdened with multiple, often mutually contradictory connotations. All this makes an encounter with a snake memorable.     

Tryst with Snake 

Our tryst with the snake that visited us took place on 12th June this year. A usual summer scorcher it was, made especial by the power outage that lasted more than the length of the day. Faucets of the municipal water supply were all whistles and air. And the overhead water tank, bone dry. Lifting water from the ground level sump into the overhead tank was not possible.   

We were able to do so only when electricity was restored around midnight. But when switched on, the water pump appeared in no mood to oblige. The hisses it made suggested that some air was trapped inside the pipe. Only physical inspection of the water level in the tank could provide a clue. When I lifted the lid of the tank, something dropped into it with a plop. I thought of pulling out that something, but held myself back. I was proved right in the hindsight. I realised the truth of the dictum that discretion is the better part of valour! 

A Scaly Rope

Peering into the water reservoir, I saw a scaly rope coiled around the ball float. The supple, vertically upright rope was swaying sideways like a ballet dancer. Was it the famous rope trick Indian magicians and fakirs are known to perform? I couldn’t care less as it was a bewitching sight. I stood transfixed. Was it a serpent or a rope? I was unable to decide who was masquerading, a serpent at being a rope, or a rope at being a serpent. It took me some time to reckon that it was a snake. The snake’s mesmerizing beauty, its scales glistening even in the moonlight, entranced me. 

I was tempted to wake up my wife and introduce the uninvited visitor to her. She is petrified of snakes. For most people a snake’s hiss is as good as hysteria. In fact, ophidiophobia, our morbid fear of snakes, is instinctive. Many evolutionary biologists believe that ophidiophobia is not a conditioned response. They opine that the primate brains are hardwired for detection and fear of snakes.  

Fear of Snakes 

Lynne Isbell believes that snakes must have harmed primates the most during long co-evolution with snakes. As a result, primates have developed an intuitive fear of snakes. Lynne Isbell’s Snake Detection Theory has been endorsed by many other studies also. 

My wife would not have tolerated the presence of such a scary creature in the house. I was tempted to keep it as a pet for reasons I cannot obviously disclose. I realised it would be disastrous to even tell her about its presence. She would lay down the law to get rid of it immediately. Then I would be left with only two options. Either fight the snake or invite civil war. I was not ready for either of the two. It is a fact that those who tread the path of discretion forget all valour. Hence, the teeny-weeny dream of moral strengththe snake’s presence promised was laid to rest. 

Snake Rescuer 

Having resolved not to disturb the status quo, I woke up my son instead. He too did not want to wake up his wife for similar reasons. Some phobias run inexplicably deep in men’s genes like the fear of snakes. We closed the lid and put our heads down to deliberate what we could do. We didn’t want to harm the snake and we didn’t want it to harm us. We had no idea if it was venomous or not. We needed a snake rescuer to save the snake from us and us from the snake. 

But the issue was how to find a snake rescuer at that ghostly hour? Then came this bright idea like a flash in the darkness of the night. Why not seek advice from the WhatsApp community? Messages were flashed to WhatsApp groups devoted to nature conservation. Conservationists, being true to their passion, were awake at night. Someone responded immediately with the phone number of a snake rescuer. His phone turned out to be temporarily out of order. A few wanted a photograph of the intruder. A snake-besotted friend, who identifies himself as Herp Smitten, also asked for a photograph. 

Mansa Devi 

Praying all the while to Mansa Devi, the goddess of snakes, we reopened the lid. We prayed not for our safety but to ensure that the visitor was there. After all, the opportunity to photograph a snake comes your way very rarely. We found it coiled around the valve cock at the base of the float ball. 

Thanking the goddess for answering our prayers, we clicked a photograph. It was shared with all those who wanted it. It turned out to be a wolf snake, Lycodon aulicus, a nocturnal, non-venomous lizard fancier. Mr. Herp Smitten counselled that I could pull it out gently by its tail. Another friend suggested that it would turn tail in the night if the lid was left open.

I always admired crocodile hunter Steve Irwin’s exploits with snakes on Discovery Channel. His feats were the stuff of dreams. I drew vicarious pleasure from watching him handle venomous snakes by their tail. Thus, the idea of pulling the snake by its tail was very enticing.

Biblical Tale

But who can trust a serpent with the Biblical tale of Eve’s beguilement at the back of their mind? After all, God had turned out Adam and Eve for obeying a serpent rather than Him.

There were some other vaguely dark possibilities also befitting the ungodly hour. What if my snake proved to be the proverbial snake in the grass? Irrespective of the fact that it was in the water tank? I wondered if I would even survive to spin a tale after fiddling with its tail.

Moreover, it was a wolf snake. A wolf among the snakes. We know what wolves can do. They are known to don sheep’s clothing when they are up to some mischief. It was midnight hour, an auspicious hour for all kinds of preternatural happenings. It could even be a werewolf in the guise of a snake. Who knows? Not only I, nobody could risk the wrath of an unbeknownst unearthly being.

A Happy Twist

Wanting to give a happy twist to our tale, we decided not to touch the snake’s tail.  We left the lid open. Waving, perhaps a good bye hiss to us, the visitor disappeared in the night. It found a safe haven somewhere, wherever that somewhere was. My mother used to say that the whole earth belongs to snakes. Hers was a nice way of making peace with the Lords of the earth. We obeyed her in granting our guest a safe passage to its rightful abode.  

We were happy that we had not behaved like the narrator in D. H. Lawrence’s poem Snake. The poem recounts how a snake once came to the narrator’s water trough in Sicily. The narrator threw a log of wood at it. The snake slithered hastily into an opening in the mud wall. The narrator regretted his action later. Fortunately, we hadn’t gone at our snake. With nothing to regret, we were happy after it escaped.

The following morning messages from good Samaritans of the night poured in thick and fast. I spent half the morning responding to them. Being true-blue conservationists, all were solicitous about our guest’s well-being. Mr. Herp Smitten sent multiple smileys featuring snakes.

Lord Shiva’s Blessings

One friend wrote that Lord Shiva will bless us. Of course Lord Shiva is welcome to bless us, but not with another snake. Out of deference to his religious sentiments, I did not send this message to him. I just thanked him for the blessings. Well, nobody can risk being politically incorrect in these times. A few friends also expressed satisfaction at our being unharmed.

Long live the tribe of conservationists! Especially those who were concerned about us also!

The snake, I believe, also had a tale to narrate to someone.

Photo by the author and visual by Different Truths

Prof. Swaraj Raj

Prof. Swaraj Raj is a Patiala-based freelance writer, translator, a keen photographer, and nature enthusiast. He retired as Professor of English and Dean, Faculty of Languages, Sri Guru Granth Sahib World University, Fatehgarh Sahib. He has more than 70 publications to his credit in journals and books.

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