The Hindu Business Line : Watchful eyes

In Mumbai, every human being turning up from Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh and Bihar is dubbed a bhaiya, like those from the south of the Vindhyas are termed madrasis.

"Hum bhaiya nahin hai. Hum kya chana ya bhaji bechta hai? (I am not a bhaiya. Do I sell groundnut or vegetables?)"

That always is the rejoinder of an irritated Uma Pratap Singh whenever my friend Varad Giri taunts him as a bhaiya. That again is the only time when Uma Pratap Singh is upset. In Mumbai, every human being turning up from Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh and Bihar is dubbed a bhaiya, like those from the south of the Vindhyas are termed madrasis.

Uma Pratap Singh is from Madhya Pradesh and looks with some disdain at those from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. Otherwise, anyone can find him quietly roaming the kerchief-sized forecourt of Hornbill House, the headquarters of the Bombay Natural History Society (BNHS), or relaxing on a wooden chair chatting with Jaya at the Information Counter located at the entrance.

Uma Pratap Singh is a watchman and everyone working at BNHS or visiting the place know him. During office hours which run from 8.30 a.m. to late evening (till the night watchman turns up) he is in a brown pant and shirt. Though 61, his age is not visible on his face; a clean pate with a fringe of white hair at the edges like some thin hedge suggests that he is not young.

One has seen him enjoying some remark with Varad and Hrishikesh though with this writer he is restrained. It took a long while to get some information from Uma Pratap Singh and then Varad helped me by dragging him to the MLA tea stall opposite Hornbill House. It was an afternoon and Uma disliked the idea of bunking. But Varad physically pulled him away and one had something near to a short interview as for long I have been curious about the man.

Uma Pratap Singh has retired from BNHS and is on a yearly contract, earning around Rs 6,600. He has always lived at Hornbill House from the time he joined the outfit after a stint at the Prince of Wales Museum.

Born in village Bidoun near Satna, Uma at 21 became one of the million migrants (like many of us including this writer) crowding Mumbai. An uncle of his had preceded him to the city to work at Zandu Pharmaceuticals where Uma landed his first job to be rooted forever in Mumbai (then Bombay).

From Zandu Pharamceuticals he moved over to the Prince of Wales Museum and then over to BNHS. He has worked with some of the best naturalists of India like Dr Salim Ali, who told him at one point not to demand any Deepavali bakshish from anyone as any refusal will be frustrating. "Thabse main kisise bakshish nahin manga (From then, I have never asked anyone for bakshish)," he told me with a hint of a smile on his face. He makes annual visits to his village to see his wife and son, who is managing the ancestral farm.

Varad had ordered tea for us and that made Uma a bit lively. "He is a fine cook and is good at non-veg and veg meals," Varad told me. Whenever Varad spends nights at the BNHS e-mailing his US friends, Uma comes up with the best of dinners.

The man is quite familiar with the goings on at BNHS and has imbibed over time a feel for animals and forests. For two days the man did not eat when Rani, the pet bitch of BNHS, disappeared one day last year. Some nine years ago a man drove up in a car, unloaded a less than one-year-old bitch near BNHS and drove off. Uma adopted the little one roaming the footpath with other dogs and christened her Rani. She delivered five pups and all of them died, forcing Uma to neuter the animal. Rani spent all her nine years at the BNHS and never strayed beyond five metres from the place. "Kabhi door nahin jata tha. Idhar hi pada rahtha tha (He never went far. He was always lying here)," Uma recalled.

One night when Varad, Hrishikesh and oneself stepped out of BNHS the lady with a light brown coat bid us farewell with a few loud barks. Jaya at the Information Counter has offered to lend me the pictures of Rani. Towards the end of 2004, Rani turned sick and was given medicines. One day she just left BNHS and Uma Pratap Singh. Hrishikesh desperately phoned up friends in and around the area and the police to track Rani.

Roads were searched in the event of Rani being run over by a speeding car. They could not locate her. Rani was no more. "Kahin jake mar gayi hogi. Bahut duk laga (She might have gone somewhere to die. I felt very sad)," said Uma grimly. One Almedia, a BNHS member, performed the 13th day ritual for Rani by placing flowers in front of the animal's picture with some prayers.

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