
By now, arundhati should have been dead. Killed by the needle that would have ended the agony of a multiple fracture on her massive, right foot.
But Arundhati, 80, is alive. Arundhati, the elephant.
Her life, scheduled to end today, has been kept on hold by the tears of an entire city, her mahout, the man who runs the park in which she lives, and the man who signed the death order.
This leafy city has never come across anything like this before — the first mercy killing case of a domesticated animal in India — and obviously, they don’t want it to end.
And so, as emotions snowballed in Dehradun, prompting People for Animals, the NGO, to meet senior government officials to plead against the lethal injection, Rajaji Park director G S Pandey confirms that D-day has “been deferred”.
“We will take a decision soon,” Pandey told The Sunday Express.
Says Uttarakhand Chief Wildlife Warden Shrikant Chandola: “I signed the approval to kill her by administering her an injection but with a very heavy heart.”
And her sobbing mahout Zahoor Khan: “It is so bad to see her being killed.”
Now, read the story of Arundhati, the biggest and oldest among five elephants in the park, and why Dehradun doesn’t want her to die.
From the Pillibhit forests to the Forest Department and then, from 1980, a popular escort for tourists at the Rajaji Park, Arundhati quickly became a favourite with the guests and staff.
But then, just 12 days ago, she stumbled into a swamp in the park, got stuck, and things started going horribly wrong.
“It was a very difficult task to retrieve a big animal like her but we managed it. Then, we discovered that she had multiple fractures on her right foot. She has been unable to stand since then,” says Pandey.
As the wounds began to deteriorate, park officials invited a veterinary expert from New Delhi to examine Arundhati — but little came out of that. Then, a three-member panel of veterinarians was formed, which finally suggested that she be “put to death”.
Desperate, the news having spread across the city, park officials then allowed her mahout and his park colleagues to try out “traditional medicines” — again, in vain.
Today, all her mahout Zahoor Khan can do is wipe his tears and recall some of Arundhati’s pet moments — like the time she ran away with an “intruder” from Nepal only to report dutifully back to forest officials within days. Khan admits that “there is no way anything can be done now to save her.” But not everyone is willing to give up on Arundhati. “We will oppose her killing tooth and nail,” says Puja Bahukhandi of People for Animals. And Dehradun waits.




