Monkeys: 1 Linton: 0
I went up to see the Jakoo temple, which is the highest point in Shimla and offers beautiful views of the valley. After over an hour climb, I finally reached the top, which opens up onto a flat area with a pleasant looking temple, as well as viewing plaforms of the valley around.
But the fist thing that strikes you upon walking up is not the view. Its the monkeys. Hundreds of them. Everywhere, in the trees, on the roofs, in the fountains, on the ground. Just hanging out (pardon the pun). It turns out Jakoo is a temple to Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god.
As I walked towards a viewing platform for a picture, one monkey took a special interest in me. He kept watching me, edging closer and closer, while the others just kind a milled about. Not thinking much of it, I turned my back on him to look out over the beautiful vista, and he jumped on my back. Startled, I knocked him off me, but not before he'd scratched at my face and grabbed my sunglasses.
It turns out the monkeys like two things from humans, food and shiney things. My sunglasses, being shiney, were a prime target. The scratches weren't deep, he'd made them while snatching at my classes. It turns out monkeys have fingernails, too.
Now I was in a conundrum. I was in the temple of the Monkey god, and a monkey had just stolen my 2-day-old sunglasses. I had no idea what I could and could not do, much less what I should do. Nobody seemed to be around. Should a yell at it? Try to scare it? Throw a stone? What if I killed it? Would the monks kill me?
As these thoughts were racing through my head I heard a shout from behind me and stone zipped past, missing the monkey by about a foot. A bald Nepalese man can running from one of the building shouting and holding a pack of food.
It turn out this happens all the time. Monkey attack people a lot, and apparently are a well-known hazard. So much so that the temple employs people to try to get items back from the monkeys. Thus, for the next half hour this little Nepalese man yelled, threw stones, offered food, got out ladders and climbed on rooftops in an effort to get my sunglasses back. We tried working as a group, even recruited a passing teenager to help keep an eye on where it was. But sadly our efforts were to no avail, the monkey evaded us and ran away down the forested side of the slope.
It was about halfway through the failed hunt that I reflected on what was going on and started to see the absurdity of this all. I had bought the sunglasses for $5 in Delhi to replace a $7 pair I'd lost in the Ganges. Mentally noting to pay even less for my next pair, I took a picture of the monkey with my glasses; if I can find an internet cafe with a USB port I'll post a picture soon.
Resigned to my loss, I tipped the man for his efforts, took a few snap shots of the splendid view, hoped the monkey god enjoyed his offering, and headed down the mountain.
Stupid monkey. Now I need to figure out if I have rabies.
But the fist thing that strikes you upon walking up is not the view. Its the monkeys. Hundreds of them. Everywhere, in the trees, on the roofs, in the fountains, on the ground. Just hanging out (pardon the pun). It turns out Jakoo is a temple to Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god.
As I walked towards a viewing platform for a picture, one monkey took a special interest in me. He kept watching me, edging closer and closer, while the others just kind a milled about. Not thinking much of it, I turned my back on him to look out over the beautiful vista, and he jumped on my back. Startled, I knocked him off me, but not before he'd scratched at my face and grabbed my sunglasses.
It turns out the monkeys like two things from humans, food and shiney things. My sunglasses, being shiney, were a prime target. The scratches weren't deep, he'd made them while snatching at my classes. It turns out monkeys have fingernails, too.
Now I was in a conundrum. I was in the temple of the Monkey god, and a monkey had just stolen my 2-day-old sunglasses. I had no idea what I could and could not do, much less what I should do. Nobody seemed to be around. Should a yell at it? Try to scare it? Throw a stone? What if I killed it? Would the monks kill me?
As these thoughts were racing through my head I heard a shout from behind me and stone zipped past, missing the monkey by about a foot. A bald Nepalese man can running from one of the building shouting and holding a pack of food.
It turn out this happens all the time. Monkey attack people a lot, and apparently are a well-known hazard. So much so that the temple employs people to try to get items back from the monkeys. Thus, for the next half hour this little Nepalese man yelled, threw stones, offered food, got out ladders and climbed on rooftops in an effort to get my sunglasses back. We tried working as a group, even recruited a passing teenager to help keep an eye on where it was. But sadly our efforts were to no avail, the monkey evaded us and ran away down the forested side of the slope.
It was about halfway through the failed hunt that I reflected on what was going on and started to see the absurdity of this all. I had bought the sunglasses for $5 in Delhi to replace a $7 pair I'd lost in the Ganges. Mentally noting to pay even less for my next pair, I took a picture of the monkey with my glasses; if I can find an internet cafe with a USB port I'll post a picture soon.
Resigned to my loss, I tipped the man for his efforts, took a few snap shots of the splendid view, hoped the monkey god enjoyed his offering, and headed down the mountain.
Stupid monkey. Now I need to figure out if I have rabies.
posted by Linton at 8:37 AM
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