19 Azgar Azgar
Across the road from our back garden was a small knoll of granite on which
grew a clump of lantana bushes and a very big mulberry tree. Its long supple
branches were very good to sit and swing on. During the fruiting season we
gorged ourselves on the very large almost black and juicy mulberries. One
early afternoon a group of us were on the mulberry tree swaying and chomping
the berries, unconcerned about anything else. Suddenly someone cried out azgar,
azgar, python, python, and everybody became very still. One of the boys pointed
at the small rocks we could see in between the lantana undergrowth.
Not too far below us we saw the head of the python about the size of a man’s hand, twisting in and around the bushes. As its head disappeared among the stones a beautiful black, brown, and yellow patterned body followed. It seemed to go on and on and we dared not move. We sat glued to our branches not daring even to utter a word. After what seemed like a very long time we saw the tail as it disappeared amongst the rocks. It was a little while before anybody moved. Then very quickly everybody jumped, slithered, or came off the tree in whatever fashion we could.
We gathered by the road and all jabbered and chattered about what a big python it was. Some said it was as thick as a man’s arm. No, no! It was fatter than that, as fat as a mango branch. Did you see how long it was? As long as the street light pole. No, no, longer, longer, yaar, mate. Then someone remembered Dhall Singh, who lived not too far down the road. The whole pack of us ran to his house to tell him about this great big python.
Dhall Singh was a very tall and big Sikh, who lived by himself in rooms, attached to a timber store. He did odd bits of carpentry work and made window and door frames. He was known as Pikipiki Singa Singa, the Motorcycle Sikh, as he had the only pikipiki, a motorcycle, in the town. He was also the town snake expert and was often called to remove these unwelcome creatures from homes in the town.
Dhall Singh kept his catches in wired cages in the enclosed back yard behind his rooms. He had quite a collection of different snakes and already had a large python. He fed them once a week on Thursdays, when he brought the one python out of the cage and had it wrapped around him. It was a show all the kids came to see. He made a very imposing sight as he played with his python on the front verandah. He always wore traditional Sikh clothes. This comprised of a rather ballooning cotton pants, but on hot days he wore blue or khaki shorts. Over this he had a knee length cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up. He wore a turban but removed it when at home. His thick black hair was knotted at the top, which had a small comb tucked in. His black beard flowed down to his chest. On his left wrist, he wore the Sikh kadda, a bracelet and on his left side he wore the kirpan, a dagger.
Dhall Singh came out as he heard our call and stood
on the verandah.
“Hoi, kya shor machaate ho, shaytano! Hoi, what’s all the racket
you little devils!”
“Azgar, azgar. Python, python. Setur ke niche. Under the mulberry. Bohot
bada hei. It’s very big. Mota be hei. Is also very fat. Kala hei aur
pila bhi hei. It’s black, and yellow too.” Everybody was jabbering
to him about this big creature.
“Acha, acha, challo, bhag jao, ghar jao. Hum dekhega. Jao, Jao. All right, all right, go away, go home, I’ll see about it”, and he waved us away. Four days later the news spread that Dhall Singh had trapped the python and it was on display. It was indeed a very beautiful, black and yellow patterned rock python almost two meters long. As we watched it we could not help but tell all who came to view it, that we were the blokes who found it. For a few days we strutted about answering questions from other kids, who sat agog as we described the details, which were of course garnished a little.
