The simian sense of independence

 

The monkeys got up earlier than me to celebrate August Fifteen. As I came out into the garden they had left after their simian celebrations. The trees and plants immediately complained pointing to many a broken branch. A few birds—tailorbird, spotted munia and babbler—also lamented, their grassy homes lying on the ground. I had fixed a small looking-glass above the washbasin outside the bathroom wall. One of them—very looks conscious surely—took it away as well. Maybe he is freshly in love and is concerned about his face. It is irritating. But it’s a grand occasion. We are celebrating our seventy-sixth year of independence and their misplaced enthusiasm can be pardoned. I take these activities as Independence Day celebrations. Things are what we interpret them as.