Selfie with a cobra

 A few years back we had lots of selfies with a cobra. I know most of you would term it as a bigoted banishment of the common sense. A cobra obviously isn’t an obliging, fake-smiling celebrity to gratify the demands of perky fans. Its anger has a lot of reach and range. In addition it has lots of attitude and arrogance which has a high chance of not adjusting to the demands of a selfie. But then it was a tired cobra, like an old aristocrat sitting among the ruins of his palace in an era of crumbling feudalism. Moreover, it was full of gratitude as we had done it a big favor. I would say that it was a mature reptile because it found itself bound to oblige us with a selfie in lieu of the favor done to it.

The cobra had fallen into a deep well. After two-three days of tiring drudgery to stay afloat, the seething spirit to hiss and bite ebbed down to the lowest point and there it lay like an almost dead rope. My cousin tied a neem bough to a rope and dropped the anchorage for the tired, sulking cobra. Forgetting all the malignant elements of the dangerous equations between the reptiles and humans, it got onto the bough and coiled itself safely among the branches. It was then hauled out and was cheered and applauded by the fans outside. It acknowledged the presence of the rescue party with its tired but taut hood. As a reciprocation for the act of kindness, it didn’t let out blasting, hissing sounds. It was so tired that it won’t get off the branch, taking it to be the ultimate savior. So we picked up the bough and had lots of selfies with the condescending cobra. It just stared at us with a mysteriously concerned curiosity. After an extended booming and euphoric selfie session, we put down the branch among some bushes, and suddenly it came out of its hypnotization and quickly came to life and dashed away at full speed. Maybe it was a wise cobra who knew the value of the favor done to it and rewarded us with some fan moments.