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Humans in my Backyard
Humans in my Backyard
Humans in my Backyard
Ebook61 pages46 minutes

Humans in my Backyard

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Humans in My Backyard is the marvellous tale of Thyaga, a young elephant, whose survival is threatened by thoughtless human exploitation. Accompanied by Vishal Menon's skillful wildlife photography, the book not only looks at the issue of the plundering of natural resources by the 'two-legged tormentors', but also beautifully captures the coming of age of an elephant.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherYODA PRESS
Release dateSep 25, 2014
ISBN9382579109
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    Book preview

    Humans in my Backyard - Vishal Menon

    Contents

    Cover

    Dedication

    Humans in my backyard

    Copyright

    My name is Glue, and I am an elephant. Which means that I’m big and grey, and have ears that flap. And a trunk. Well, to be honest my name isn’t really Glue at all, it’s Thyagaraja. Or ‘Thyaga’ for short. But I got called ‘Glue’ a lot when I was little, and the name sort of—stuck.

    All my life, I’ve lived here in this beautiful jungle. Ever since I first opened my eyes it has surrounded me on every side. You can see it stretching away into the distance behind us in these pictures of my family: my Mom, my Auntie Budie, three other aunts, and 10 of my 11 cousins. My cousin Murali is missing, but that’s probably because he was off having a nap when these were taken. My cousin Murali likes to nap a lot. I’m the cute one showing off in the middle of the group.

    My mother and my aunts never let us kids out of their sight, and all summer long we would play near them—scrambling under them at feedingtime, clambering over them when they were asleep, and spending hour after hour chasing one another through the tall grass surrounding them on every side, stopping only to rub our itchy bottoms against their rough skin.

    For many years we lived in this way—one big happy herd in a jungle that seemed to cover the entire world. And I had no reason to believe that my life would ever change.

    I loved being by my mother’s side. My older male cousins, on the other hand, loved stealing away to go wrestle in the mud by themselves. Unni, the rowdiest of the bunch, was their ringleader, and was always trying to get me to join them.

    ‘Come on, Thyaga, don’t be a bore,’ he would say. ‘Don’t you want some adventure?’

    These adventures of theirs were usually very shortlived, though, because as soon as they had stolen away, someone would invariably notice that they were missing, and Aunt Budie would be dispatched to scold the gang and drag them back.

    One day when Unni was pulling at my tail with his trunk, trying to get me to come play, Aunt Budie, who was waddling past chewing on some sugarcane, rolled her eyes and said to my mother, ‘That boy sticks to you like glue, doesn’t he?’

    Unni thought this was hilarious, and ran around repeating it endlessly. ‘Thyaga is sticking to

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