A snake in the rickshaw

Attracted by an unwonted commotion in the morning, I lifted the curtain of a roadside window and saw an auto rickshaw surrounded by a small group of excited people. The driver was poking into the dashboard with a slender stick. From their discussion, I gathered that a snake was involved, and I couldn't ignore the matter. Equipped with another small stick, I joined the auto driver in the snake-hunting operation. As we wildly stirred the dashboard with sticks, we could see the snake gliding inside from one of the broken headlights. We swiftly turned to face the front of the auto and caught a glimpse of the snake's full length. It had a carnation pink complexion with horizontal white rings at regular intervals.

With an air of confidence, like an expert herpetologist, I commented that it was a highly poisonous krait. The onlookers listened intently, and I continued to expound on the subject. I continued to explain that it was a common krait and the venom it carried consisted mostly of powerful neurotoxins like "presynaptic and postsynaptic ones" that induce muscle paralysis and affect the synaptic cleft. However, as the high-sounding technical terms tumbled out of my mouth, my professorial expertise lost its appeal. And people turned their attention back to the snake in the dashboard.

Everybody’s attention was suddenly distracted by a middle-aged lady on her way to work as she burst into tears and appealed to everyone not to kill the snake, which she considered a living incarnation of Maa Manasa (Goddess Manasa). She then made a phone call, and within ten minutes, two young men arrived on a motorbike.

They unscrewed the dashboard, allowing enough space to retrieve the snake. One of them peeped inside and carefully inserted his left hand to catch the snake. Unfortunately, much to our horror, the snake bit him, and his forefinger began to ooze blood. Despite this, the young man's face showed no signs of fear. In his second attempt, he successfully caught the snake without harming it and dropped it into a polythene packet. I stopped him as he prepared to leave. I wanted to know if he would seek medical attention for the snakebite.

He dismissed my concern, revealing that he was an MSc in zoology with a specialisation in herpetology. He assured me that the snake was not venomous and started his bike to release the snake in the nearest forest. I was left standing there, facing the disapproving chuckles and whispers of the onlookers.