The Tibetan residential area on the summit of McLeod. My home is in the right upper corner.
View of the building I used to live in. The spiral staircase leading to my room.
Some macaques in the process of grooming on the rooftop of my home..JPG)
My jeep, the target of much monkey vandalism.
The type of long-tail langure macaque that I actually like.
A bunch of monkey todlers in an abused tree at arm-lenght from my balcony.
A beautiful male snow monkey outside my room.
The view from my balcony.From the first day I lived in Dharamsala I wasn’t only surrounded by monks, but also by monkeys. There were two types of monkeys in upper-Dharamsala, better named as McLeodganj, the hometown of the Dalai Lama. Looking at the homes in McLeod I noticed that every room and door was protected by metal bars. Why? Did I have to fear thieves of the human variety who were interested in stealing my Dalai Lama books and Buddha statues? No! The metal mesh protecting windows and doors were all about keeping out monkeys. There were two varieties. The majority of monkeys were rhesus macaques. They were rude, obnoxious, often violent little thieves with a high IQ and many creative ways of stealing food or other items from homes. The other type of monkeys were very kind, shy, long-tailed langure macaques. They would just sit in tree tops and shy away from people most of the time. Those were the ones I actually adored.
I have had many personal encounters with the first variety; the obnoxious rascals.
I have had many personal encounters with the first variety; the obnoxious rascals.
Soon after I moved to McLeod in 2000, I decided to buy a soft top Suzuki jeep that I was able to park close to my home. The next day I noticed that the soft-top was gone and that an entire gang of monkeys had taken up residence in my jeep. After cleaning out all the monkey poo I had the jeep remodeled for 100.000 rupees in Delhi with a 5 mm thick bullet proof hard-top. The monkeys were no longer able to get into the car, but they would still enjoy jumping from tree branches onto the roof or bonnet. They would defecate onto the jeep, use their poo to write their names onto the windows, rip off the windshield-wipers and mirrors, nibble away or even tear out large pieces of the rubber that keeps the windows in the door frames, rip off the mud flaps and even let out air from the tires. My white jeep always looked like a toilet on wheels. Driving the thing pass the Dalai Lama temple always elicited a feeling of terrible embarrassment. My only consolation was that even the cars of the Dalai’s motorcade of the Tibetan Government in Exile got defecated on.
I tried many ways to protect my jeep from monkey business. I would cover it completely with dried tree branches with inch-long thorns, which was helpful to some extend. After some time the monkeys would just pull the branches off the jeep and wave them at me.
I invested 800 rupees in a so called monkey-resistant thick plastic car cover with unbreakable nylon straps. I used it only once. It took me 10 minutes to cover the car up and thought it would work well. Not! Within one minute the monkeys had ripped the cover in pieces and, looking at me with big smiles on their faces, waved the individual plastic parts above their heads. “Look Pantau, we just fucked up your 800-rupee monkey-proof jeep cover!”
Whatever I did to protect the jeep from monkeys, nothing worked. The only thing I could do was practicing Patience and Acceptance according to the Buddhist teachings of the Dalai Lama.
My third and last home in McLeod that I lived in for four years was on the third floor of an apartment building about 100 metres above the bazaar. It was a very small and simple room in a large building with a small balcony, a window and a door. The door could be closed with a metal bar and secured with a padlock. I would padlock the door with a 200 rupee 10-digit Sanyo digital lock. Now, it would take a human two years to figure out the right combination to open the padlock, however, it took my monkeys only a few weeks to figure out the 5 numbers that needed to be pressed in order to open the lock. You better believe that I am not exaggerating here. Monkeys just know how to open digital padlocks.
The monkeys would sit in a tree across from my door observing me pressing the 5 digits every time I would unlock, and to my surprise, after some time I came home to notice that the lock was gone and the door open. About twenty monkeys were throwing a party inside my room. My television was smashed to the ground, my foam mattress ripped apart and shat on. There were feces on practically every inch of the white washed walls and every can and bag in my kitchenette was opened for inspection. A bag of milk powder was used to make an impressive piece of art by mixing the powder with monkey shit. The stinky mix made a very creamy and slippery wall and floor paint. My bookshelves with Buddhist works of the Dalai Lama were remodeled and the books of His Holiness had been ripped apart and shat on.
The moment they saw my shocked face in the door opening, they tried to flee my room, but as I was standing in the door opening I was blocking their way. My mistake. Big mistake! I should have stepped away from the door to let the 20 or so monkeys escape. The alpha male decided to burry his canine teeth about an inch-deep into my right leg which almost made me tumble over the railing of my balcony and fall twenty metres down onto the roof of the small monastery below my building.
After 7 years, I was really fed up with the monkeys, especially with their shit and piss that they would throw at me. They would sometimes just piss me off by peeing against my windows or onto my head from the balcony above me. They would fling their poo at me, smear their feces onto the railing of my spiral staircase, resulting in many poo-on-hand-situations. They would just sit on my balcony with their legs spread wide and let their urine flow all over the place. Unfortunately, the balcony slanted towards my front door.
I miss the monks of McLeod but if there’s one thing I don’t miss about McLeod, it is the monkeys.
I invested 800 rupees in a so called monkey-resistant thick plastic car cover with unbreakable nylon straps. I used it only once. It took me 10 minutes to cover the car up and thought it would work well. Not! Within one minute the monkeys had ripped the cover in pieces and, looking at me with big smiles on their faces, waved the individual plastic parts above their heads. “Look Pantau, we just fucked up your 800-rupee monkey-proof jeep cover!”
Whatever I did to protect the jeep from monkeys, nothing worked. The only thing I could do was practicing Patience and Acceptance according to the Buddhist teachings of the Dalai Lama.
My third and last home in McLeod that I lived in for four years was on the third floor of an apartment building about 100 metres above the bazaar. It was a very small and simple room in a large building with a small balcony, a window and a door. The door could be closed with a metal bar and secured with a padlock. I would padlock the door with a 200 rupee 10-digit Sanyo digital lock. Now, it would take a human two years to figure out the right combination to open the padlock, however, it took my monkeys only a few weeks to figure out the 5 numbers that needed to be pressed in order to open the lock. You better believe that I am not exaggerating here. Monkeys just know how to open digital padlocks.
The monkeys would sit in a tree across from my door observing me pressing the 5 digits every time I would unlock, and to my surprise, after some time I came home to notice that the lock was gone and the door open. About twenty monkeys were throwing a party inside my room. My television was smashed to the ground, my foam mattress ripped apart and shat on. There were feces on practically every inch of the white washed walls and every can and bag in my kitchenette was opened for inspection. A bag of milk powder was used to make an impressive piece of art by mixing the powder with monkey shit. The stinky mix made a very creamy and slippery wall and floor paint. My bookshelves with Buddhist works of the Dalai Lama were remodeled and the books of His Holiness had been ripped apart and shat on.
The moment they saw my shocked face in the door opening, they tried to flee my room, but as I was standing in the door opening I was blocking their way. My mistake. Big mistake! I should have stepped away from the door to let the 20 or so monkeys escape. The alpha male decided to burry his canine teeth about an inch-deep into my right leg which almost made me tumble over the railing of my balcony and fall twenty metres down onto the roof of the small monastery below my building.
After 7 years, I was really fed up with the monkeys, especially with their shit and piss that they would throw at me. They would sometimes just piss me off by peeing against my windows or onto my head from the balcony above me. They would fling their poo at me, smear their feces onto the railing of my spiral staircase, resulting in many poo-on-hand-situations. They would just sit on my balcony with their legs spread wide and let their urine flow all over the place. Unfortunately, the balcony slanted towards my front door.
I miss the monks of McLeod but if there’s one thing I don’t miss about McLeod, it is the monkeys.
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Well, as aggravating as they were, I'd still be forced to admit (grudgingly)the monkey's intelligence and cunning.
ReplyDeleteI agree. They have been an integral part of my life for 7 years and their intelligence and cunning ways to seperate me from my belongings or their ways to pass time by means of vandalism always amazed me. But, like with very little children, you can't really get angry with them. Regarding monkeys, after all, it were we humans who lived in their habitat and they made great use of it.
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