It is easy to earn an elephant’s affection. If you put in some effort, like the late veterinarian Dr V Krishnamurthy did, they would go out of their way to express their love. P R Mani, who worked with Dr K, as he is popularly known, for 26 years, remembers: “The moment he stepped out of his car and into the camp, all the elephants would raise their trunks in greeting.” Mani adds: “He would walk from one elephant to another, addressing them by their name like he’s talking to a child.” Dr Krishnamurthy’s namesake, the elephant Murthy at Theppakadu Elephant Camp in Mudumalai Tiger Reserve, passed away on October 14. As people mourn the death of one of the gentlest elephants at the camp, Murthy also reminds us of the efforts of the men who play a crucial role in an elephant’s life.
Dr Krishnamurthy was a towering figure in elephant management and care in Tamil Nadu. “He laid the foundation for all the methods that are being followed today,” says 69-year-old Mani, who was Forest Livestock Inspector when Murthy was captured. Mani remembers talking to the vet minutes before he shot the tranquiliser dart into the left shoulder of Murthy, who was a crop-raider that people in Kerala and Tamil Nadu feared, known to have killed 23 people.
“He was in Chennai then and was recovering from a heart surgery,” recalls Mani, who has now retired. “Despite his condition, he would travel on and off to Mudumalai to oversee Murthy’s care.” Murthy was caught in the early hours of July 12, 1998 near Gudalur in the Nilgiris and was subsequently brought to the Theppakadu camp where he was trained.
Veterinarian K Asokan helped in the care of the animal once he was brought to a kraal, a wooden structure used to train a wild elephant. “Murthy had a lot of bullet injuries; I remember him having poor vision for 10 days after he was caught,” says the 59-year-old.
Another veterinarian who worked closely with Murthy is Dr N Kalaivanan, who is now in Madurai. “Murthy was truly one-of-a-kind,” he recalls. “He was quick to grasp instructions,” he adds: “I would be amazed at how he would turn and bend a little so I can reach him, if he knew I was about to give him an injection.”
Murthy was eventually trained to become a kumki, and assisted the Forest Department in several elephant operations. According to Dr Kalaivanan, he is a perfect example of a successful man-animal conflict mitigation exercise. “He did not crop-raid and attack people without reason. An elephant comes out of its home range only if it is under extreme stress. As a calf, he would’ve spent several summers walking the forest with his mother and herd. When he was a little older, the forest he roamed and fed at, was replaced by strange buildings and roads. What would he have done?” he asks.
“The only way to deal with this situation is to capture the elephant, we cannot ask it go back to its old environment which it wanted to come out of in the first place,” he says. Capture of problematic elephants and their subsequent ‘breaking’ into a camp elephant, is a “scientific method to deal with man-animal conflict,” Kalaivanan feels.
Dr Krishnamurthy, though, was not of the opinion that every problematic elephant be captured. “An elephant mainly strays into human habitation for food,” points out Mani. “Dr K would suggest that we clear weeds such as lantana in the forest with the help of camp elephants to create fodder for wild elephants. We did this until the year 2000,” he points out adding that another measure he suggested was to encourage locals living close to elephant habitation to cultivate crops that elephants were not drawn to. “He would say that these farmers can be encouraged with remuneration,” says Mani.
These men, many of whom worked in harsh conditions without much facilities to speak of, remember their days and nights tracking elephants, fondly. “There are drones that aid in elephant capture now,” says Mani, adding: “But during our time, we would spend several days following an elephant to study it, as per Dr K’s instructions.” The first step, in elephant management, according to Mani, was to understand their subject.
Another important person in an elephant’s life, is his mahout. He is the elephant’s everything; the first human he learns to trust. M Kirumaaran, Murthy’s mahout, is unable to talk when asked about his elephant. “There can never be another elephant like Murthy,” he says, his voice breaking. “I would’ve treated any kind of external injuries, but this time, his organs such as liver and kidneys failed. There was nothing I could do.” Kirumaaran is going on a month-long break to take his mind off Murthy.
Mani is planning to write a book about his work with Krishnamurthy, on whom Tamil writer B Jeyamohan has already written a hugely popular story called Yaanai Doctor. What did the vet say when he heard that the Forest Department was naming an elephant after him? Mani recalls with a laugh: “He told me that the department can redirect their anger towards him by giving the elephant a punch every now and then.” In reality though, Murthy lived like a king.
