Manni had been very clear: the chain or the zoo. We didn't want to part with Keshavan. Not yet...
Some things like pregnancy or a black monkey in the house cannot be kept hidden for long.
Well, we were not discreet either. Whenever children went past our house, we called out to Keshavan even if we were carrying the black monkey or posed with him on our shoulder in front of the wide open window.
"Watch out," Manni warned. "One day somebody will steal him and pour him into bottles labelled "Black Monkey Potion That Cures All Ills."
That made our bellies churn but we couldn't disappoint the kids who hung outside our gate and we scanned the crowd for suspicious looking characters before bringing Keshavan out for Show Off Time. The kids roared at his arrival, imitated his chatter, scratched their sides and offered their heads to him even if they didn't have nits for him to pick. The fun lasted till Manni bawled out that we were getting late for school and the kids vanished from both sides of the gate.
And to think that Keshavan came home clutching my father's shirt front and looking sadly at us! It was love at first sight for us. We fell for his flat nose, wide mouth and old man's face framed with hair. We were determined to be lucky the third time and fussed over him much more than we had done with Kuttan, the always hungry baby elephant or the grouchy Teddy bear cub.
We held Keshavan in the crook of our arm and fed him milk from a bottle. We wiped his lips and big eyes with damp cotton. We mashed banana between our fingers and let him lick the goo not daring to startle him with our laugh even though his tongue tickled our palms. We loved him. He knew it.
Slowly and steadily he outgrew the bottle feeds and mashed banana. He hated the damp cotton wipes. He didn't want to be bound by our love. He wanted to be left alone unsupervised, unguarded and uncontrolled. He wanted to prance all over the house and throw everything within reach. Above all, he wanted to jump down on the shoulders of the nearest unsuspecting victim who could be anyone. Anyone except my mother. Even her footsteps were enough to make a statue of him till her pitter-patter faded into the distance of our large house.
When his antics became too much and Manni threatened to take him to the zoo herself, we had to curb him. We couldn't think of putting him in a cage. We tied him up instead. He bit through the rope. We used a thicker rope and knotted it to the grill over the door. He untied the knot and did a Hanuman ravaging Lanka act. The Monkey God's tail had been on fire but Keshavan's rope trailed harmlessly just beyond our reach. Every time he jumped, he brought down a few things. Every time we jumped after him, we brought down the rest. He chattered his contempt for us from a height and jumped to the next level.
Finally, miraculously, my youngest brother Cheechu somehow managed to get his fingertips on the tip of the rope. Carefully, slowly he tightened his hold and pulled Keshavan towards him while we held our breath. We tied Keshavan up and looked around the room. We had so many knick knacks and breakables and books and papers? Thank God all the adults including Manni, especially Manni, were attending a wedding and we had the day to clean up the mess! Of course, she found out in no time why we clutched Keshavan as if our lives depended on it.
Keshavan had clearly become too smart for a rope. We fixed a thin metal chain to the collar round his neck and fastened it to the grill with a locking device. The chain was strong enough to hold him back and long enough for him to jump around. From his perch, he could leap to the top of the fuse box or on to our shoulders as we entered the house but he was no longer the monkey on the loose. Keshavan chattered his anger and rattled the chain but we weren't going to give in to his tantrum. Manni had been very clear: the chain or the zoo. We didn't want to part with Keshavan. Not yet.
Some things like pregnancy or a black monkey in the house cannot be kept hidden for long. 
