Snake Trouble

Watercolor illustration of Grandpa, a kind-faced, elderly man with deeply etched wrinkles around his warm, hazel eyes, a neatly trimmed white mustache, and wearing traditional Indian clothing (perhaps a dhoti and kurta in earthy tones), walking down a bustling Dehra market street in the golden afternoon light. A small, emerald-green python with intricate scale patterns is draped around his neck, catching the light. The boy, his grandson, walks beside him, looking proud with a gap-toothed grin and wearing a simple cotton shirt and shorts. Long shadows stretch across the dusty street. Market stalls overflow with colorful produce – bright red chilies, vibrant mangoes, and glistening green vegetables. People in traditional attire bustle around, some carrying woven baskets. Soft watercolor washes create a sense of heat and atmosphere. The overall tone is heartwarming and slightly surreal.

After retiring from working on the trains and moving to Dehra, Grandpa liked to make things fun (for us too!) by having strange pets. He gave a snake-charmer at the market twenty rupees for a baby python. Then, to make a bunch of kids happy, he put the python around his neck and brought it home!

I was with him, and I felt super cool walking next to Grandpa. Everyone in Dehra liked him, especially the poor people, and they all said hello nicely, even though they saw the python. They were actually used to seeing him with weird animals.

The first one to see us was Tutu the monkey, swinging on a jackfruit tree branch. He looked at the python, which monkeys don’t like, and ran into the house screaming!

Watercolor illustration of Tutu the monkey, bright-eyed and startled, with fur rendered in delicate watercolor strokes, swinging from a jackfruit tree branch covered in moss and lichen in front of a vibrant, two-story house in Dehra. The house is painted in shades of ochre and turquoise, with peeling paint revealing glimpses of older layers. The jackfruit itself hangs heavy and textured. The python, partially visible in the foreground amongst ferns and decaying leaves, its scales catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, is the clear cause of Tutu’s frightened reaction – his fur stands on end, and his mouth is open in a silent scream. Soft light highlights the textures of the tree bark and the monkey’s fur, creating a sense of realism and depth. The mood is comical and slightly suspenseful.

Then Popeye, our parrot, who sat on the porch, started making loud squawking and whistling noises. His whistle sounded like a train! He learned to do that when we lived near train stations.

The noise made Grandma come to the porch, and she almost passed out when she saw the python around Grandpa’s neck.

Watercolor illustration of Grandma, a stern-looking woman with grey hair pulled back in a tight bun, standing on a weathered wooden porch, its paint chipped and faded. Her face is etched with disapproval, and she gestures wildly at Grandpa with a trembling hand. She wears a simple cotton sari in muted shades of grey and brown. Grandpa, in contrast, stands calmly at the bottom of the porch steps with the python around his neck, his expression serene and unbothered. Popeye the parrot, a riot of green, red, and yellow feathers, is perched on the porch railing, squawking loudly with ruffled feathers. The scene is bathed in the harsh midday sun, casting sharp shadows and creating a sense of tension. Broken clay pots and potted plants add detail to the porch. The mood is humorous and slightly chaotic.

Grandma was okay with most of his pets, but not reptiles. Even a nice lizard made her scared. So, she definitely wouldn’t want a python in the house.

‘It will squeeze you!’ she yelled.

‘Nonsense,’ Grandpa said. ‘He’s just a little guy.’

‘He’ll get used to us,’ I said, trying to help.

‘Maybe,’ Grandma said, ‘but I don’t want to get used to him. And Aunt Ruby is coming tomorrow. She’ll leave if she sees a snake.’

‘Maybe we should show it to her first,’ Grandpa said, because he thought Aunt Ruby was annoying.

‘Get rid of it now!’ Grandma said.

‘I can’t let it go in the garden. It might go into the chicken coop, and then what?’

‘We’ll have fewer chickens,’ I said, which made Grandma want to get rid of the python even more.

‘Lock that thing in the bathroom,’ she said. ‘Go find the man you bought it from and have him take it back! He can keep the money.’

Grandpa and I put the snake in the bathroom in an empty tub. Grandpa looked sad and said, ‘Maybe Grandma is right. I don’t care about Aunt Ruby, but we don’t want the python to hurt Tutu or Popeye.’

We hurried to the market to find the snake-charmer, but we saw a bunch of snake-charmers looking for us! They heard Grandpa was buying snakes, and they brought all kinds!

Watercolor illustration of Grandpa and the boy in a crowded market, the composition a swirling mass of color and activity. The boy clings to Grandpa’s hand, looking slightly overwhelmed. They are surrounded by snake-charmers, each holding various snakes in intricately woven baskets and draped on their persons. The snakes range in color from sandy brown to vibrant yellow and black. Grandpa looks overwhelmed and is gesturing emphatically with both hands to decline the charmers’ offers. The market is filled with the smells of spices, incense, and animals. Watercolor techniques are used to create a sense of depth and movement, with blurred figures in the background and sharp details in the foreground. The time of day is early morning, with soft, diffused light filtering through the market stalls.

‘No, no!’ Grandpa said. ‘We don’t want more snakes. We want to give this one back.’

But the man who sold it to us was gone, looking for another python for Grandpa! The other snake-charmers only wanted to sell, not buy. To get away, we went home a long way around, climbing a wall and going through a garden. We found Grandma walking back and forth on the porch. She saw our faces and knew we didn’t get rid of the snake.

‘Okay,’ Grandma said. ‘Just take it away and make sure it doesn’t come back.’

‘We will, Grandma,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’

Grandpa opened the bathroom door and went inside. I followed him. We couldn’t see the python.

‘He’s gone,’ Grandpa said.

‘We left the window open,’ I said.

‘On purpose, I bet,’ Grandma said. ‘But it can’t be far. Look around.’

We looked everywhere: the house, the roof, the kitchen, the garden, and the chicken coop, but no snake.

‘He must have gone over the wall,’ Grandpa said. ‘He’s probably far away by now!’

The python didn’t come back, and when Aunt Ruby came with lots of suitcases, Popeye the parrot was the only one to say hello with loud whistles.

For a few days, Grandpa and I were worried the python would come back, but it didn’t, so we thought it was gone for good. Aunt Ruby had to deal with Tutu the monkey making faces at her (I only did that when she wasn’t looking), and she said Popeye was louder when she was in the room. But she was used to them and knew she had to deal with it if she wanted to stay with us.

Then, one night, we heard a scream from the garden.

Aunt Ruby ran up the porch steps, out of breath. ‘In the guava tree! I was getting a guava when I saw it looking at me. Its eyes! Like it wanted to eat me!’

Watercolor illustration of Aunt Ruby screaming on the porch, her face contorted in horror as she sprays her face with rose water from an ornate, silver bottle. Droplets of rose water shimmer in the air. Popeye is whistling at her, a mischievous glint in his eye, perched on a colorful ceramic flower pot. The boy and Grandma are looking at her in amusement and bewilderment, Grandma with a barely suppressed smile. The illustration shows a thick, patterned python curled amongst the lush foliage of a guava tree nearby, its scales glistening with morning dew. The porch is adorned with intricately carved wooden pillars and brightly colored cushions. The light is dappled, creating a playful and humorous mood.

‘Calm down,’ Grandma said, spraying her with rose water. ‘What did you see?’

‘A snake!’ Aunt Ruby cried. ‘A big snake in the guava tree. Its eyes were scary, and it looked at me funny.’

‘Maybe it wanted to give you a guava,’ Grandpa said, trying not to smile. He looked at me, and I went into the garden. But when I got to the tree, the python was gone.

‘Aunt Ruby scared it,’ I told Grandpa.

‘I’m not surprised,’ he said. ‘But it will be back. I think it likes your aunt.’

And the python did come back a lot, in surprising places.

One morning, I found him curled up on a table, looking at himself in the mirror. I got Grandpa, but when we came back, the python was gone.

He was in the garden again, and one day I saw him climbing to the roof. I followed him and climbed up too. I got to the roof and saw the snake going down a pipe. I saw his tail for a second and then it was gone.

‘I think he lives in the pipe,’ I told Grandpa.

Watercolor illustration of the boy reaching out his arm, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution, as a python gracefully slides across it on a rooftop covered in terracotta tiles. The snake’s scales are depicted in painstaking detail, shimmering in the afternoon sun. In the background, a lush rooftop garden blooms with colorful flowers and plants, offering a stunning vista. The sky is a vibrant blue with wisps of white clouds. The boy wears a simple white shirt, contrasting with the rich colors of the garden and the snake. Soft watercolor washes create a sense of serenity and wonder. The textures of the tiles, the snake’s scales, and the flowers are all rendered with remarkable realism.

‘What does he eat?’ Grandma asked.

‘Probably rats. They used to live in the pipes too.’

‘Hmm…’ Grandma said. ‘A snake is useful. As long as it stays on the roof and eats rats instead of chickens…’

But the python didn’t just stay on the roof. Aunt Ruby screamed, and we all ran to her room. The python was on her table, looking at himself in the mirror.

‘All the attention made him think he’s handsome,’ Grandpa said, picking up the python while Aunt Ruby screamed. ‘Want to hold him, Ruby? He seems to like you.’

Aunt Ruby ran out of the room onto the porch, where Popeye the parrot whistled at her. Poor Aunt Ruby! She left a week early and went back to her job as a teacher. She said she felt safer at school than in our house.

Since I saw Grandpa holding the python easily, I wanted to do it too. So, when I saw the snake climbing to the roof, I climbed up with him. He stopped, and I stopped too. I put out my hand, and he slid over my arm to my shoulder. I didn’t want him around my neck, so I held him with both hands and took him to the garden. He didn’t seem to care.

The snake was cold and slippery, and it gave me goosebumps. But I got used to him, and he must have liked me because when I put him down, he wanted to climb up my leg. I had other things to do, so I put him in a big empty basket in the garden. He looked at me with eyes that didn’t blink or show anything. I didn’t know what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all.

I went for a bike ride, and when I came back, Grandma was getting guavas and putting them in the basket. The python must have left.

When the basket was full, Grandma said, ‘Can you take these to Major Malik? It’s his birthday, and I want to surprise him.’

I put the basket on my bike and rode to Major Malik’s house. He met me outside.

‘What did your nice grandma send me?’ he asked.

‘A birthday surprise!’ I said, and put the basket down.

The python, who was under the guavas, woke up and stood up high! Guavas fell everywhere. The major yelled and ran inside.

Watercolor illustration of Major Malik, a portly man in uniform, his face flushed with fear, standing in his garden surrounded by scattered, overripe guavas. He is clutching a vintage-looking gun in trembling hands, his expression a mask of shock. His uniform is crisp and detailed, adorned with medals and buttons that catch the light. A python, coiled menacingly, is partially visible in a woven basket, its head raised. The garden is overgrown and untamed, with weeds sprouting between the paving stones. The light is dramatic, casting long shadows and highlighting the Major’s terrified expression. The watercolor style conveys a sense of unease and suspense.

I pushed the python back in the basket, picked it up, got on my bike, and rode away fast. Major Malik ran out of the house with a gun!

‘Did you give him the guavas?’ Grandma asked when I got back.

‘I gave them to him,’ I said.

‘Was he happy?’

‘He’s going to write and thank you,’ I said.

And he did.

‘Thank you for the lovely surprise,’ he wrote. ‘My doctor told me not to get excited. My blood pressure is high. Your grandson doesn’t help. But it’s the thought that counts, and I’m not mad…’

‘That’s a strange letter,’ Grandma said. ‘He must be sick. Are guavas bad for blood pressure?’

‘Not by themselves,’ Grandpa said, who knew what happened. ‘But with other things, they can be upsetting.’

When everyone, including Grandma, got used to the python being around, we decided to go to Lucknow for a few months.

Lucknow was a big city, far from Dehra. Aunt Ruby lived and worked there. We would stay with her, so we couldn’t take any pythons, monkeys, or other weird pets.

‘What about Popeye?’ I asked.

‘Popeye isn’t a pet,’ Grandma said. ‘He’s family. He’s coming too.’

So, the train station was crazy because Popeye was squawking and whistling! He sounded like the guard and the train. People ran to their seats, thinking the train was leaving, but it wasn’t! When they got off, Popeye would whistle again, and everyone would run back to the train. This happened until the guard whistled for real. Then no one got on, and some people missed the train.

‘Can’t you quiet that parrot?’ Grandpa asked as the train left the station.

‘No,’ Grandma said. ‘I bought him a ticket, and he can enjoy the trip.’

When we stopped, Popeye didn’t like people looking in the windows. Before the trip was over, he bit two fingers, a nose, and grabbed a ticket man’s ear.

It was a night trip, and Grandma covered herself with a blanket and went to sleep. ‘It was a long day. I’m going to sleep,’ she said.

‘Aren’t we eating?’ I asked.

‘I’m not hungry. I ate before we left. You two can eat from the picnic basket.’

Grandma fell asleep, and even Popeye started to doze off.

‘I’m hungry,’ I said. ‘What did Grandma make?’

‘Samosas, omelets, and chicken. It’s in the basket under the seat.’

I pulled the basket out. The straps were loose. When I opened the lid, I gasped!

In the basket was a python! There was no dinner.

Watercolor illustration of the train car, the interior bathed in the warm glow of early morning light filtering through dusty windows. Grandma is asleep, her head resting against the worn, velvet seat, Popeye is dozing on her shoulder, a single feather ruffled. The boy, with wide, innocent eyes, is carefully opening the picnic basket under the seat, revealing a coiled python instead of food. His mouth is agape in surprise. Grandpa sits next to him, his brow furrowed with concern. The basket is intricately woven, and the train car is filled with details like overhead luggage racks, worn wooden paneling, and faded posters. The mood is suspenseful and humorous, with a touch of nostalgia.

‘It’s a python,’ I said. ‘And it ate all our dinner.’

‘Nonsense,’ Grandpa said. ‘Pythons don’t eat omelets and samosas. They like their food alive! This isn’t our basket. The one with food is gone! Major Malik must have switched the baskets!’

Grandpa closed the basket and put it back under the seat.

‘Don’t let Grandma see him,’ he said. ‘She might think we brought him on purpose.’

‘I’m hungry,’ I said.

‘Wait until the next station, and we’ll buy some snacks. Eat Popeye’s peppers.’

‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘You eat them.’

Grandpa ate a couple of peppers.

After midnight, there was a loud noise in the hallway. Popeye squawked, and Grandpa and I got up to see what was wrong. People were yelling, ‘Snake, snake!’

I looked under the seat. The basket was open.

‘The python’s out,’ I said, and Grandpa ran out in his pajamas. I followed him.

People were outside the bathroom.

‘What’s wrong?’ Grandpa asked.

‘We can’t get in the bathroom,’ someone said. ‘There’s a big snake inside.’

‘Let me see,’ Grandpa said. ‘I know snakes.’

People moved, and Grandpa and I went into the bathroom, but there was no python.

‘He must have gone out the vent,’ Grandpa said. ‘He’s probably in another seat!’ He told the people, ‘It’s gone! Don’t worry. Just a young python.’

When we got back, Grandma was sitting up.

‘I knew you’d do something silly,’ she said. ‘You said you left him behind, but he was on the train.’

Grandpa said it wasn’t our fault, and Major Malik put the python on the train, but Grandma didn’t believe him.

‘It’s gone,’ Grandpa said. ‘It must have fallen out the window. We’re far from Dehra, so you’ll never see him again.’

The train slowed down and stopped.

‘No station here,’ Grandpa said, looking out the window.

Someone ran to us, waving his arms and yelling.

‘It’s the fireman,’ Grandpa said. ‘I’ll see what’s wrong.’

‘I’m coming too,’ I said, and we ran to the train engine.

‘What’s up?’ Grandpa said. ‘Can I help? I know about engines.’

But the driver couldn’t talk! The python was around his legs, and he was too scared to move.

‘We’ll take care of it,’ Grandpa said, and took the python off the driver and put it in my arms. The driver sat down, scared.

Watercolor illustration of Grandpa driving a vintage train engine, his face etched with determination as he pulls levers and operates the controls. The boy is shoveling coal into the fiery furnace, his face smudged with soot. The driver, a burly man in a striped cap, looks absolutely terrified, his hands covering his face in horror. The python is curled up comfortably on his lap, its scales glistening in the heat. Sparks fly from the furnace, illuminating the interior of the engine. The scene is dynamic and full of energy, with smoke billowing from the chimney and the rhythmic chugging of the engine. The watercolor style captures the grit and grime of the train engine with a sense of realism.

‘I’ll drive,’ Grandpa said. ‘We don’t want to be late. Your aunt is waiting for us!’ Before the driver could say anything, Grandpa let go of the brakes and started the engine.

‘We left the fireman behind,’ I said.

‘Never mind. You can shovel coal.’

I was happy to help drive, so I put the python in the driver’s lap and started shoveling coal. The engine went faster, and we rushed through the night, with sparks flying and the whistle blowing.

‘You’re going too fast!’ the driver yelled.

‘Making up for lost time,’ Grandpa said. ‘Why did the fireman run away?’

‘He went for the guard. You left them both behind!’

Early the next morning, the train got to Lucknow. We had to explain, but the station master was Grandpa’s friend, so it was okay. We were early, and Grandpa went to have tea with the driver and station master. I put the python back in the basket and helped Grandma with the bags. Popeye sat on Grandma’s shoulder, looking at the station. He saw Aunt Ruby coming and whistled.

Aunt Ruby, who liked food, saw the picnic basket and said, ‘It’s heavy. You saved something for me! I’ll carry it to the taxi.’

‘We didn’t eat much,’ I said.

‘It’s been a long time since I ate something your grandma made.’ She wouldn’t let go of the basket.

I thought I saw the lid moving, but I tied it down, so it wouldn’t open.

Grandpa came, and we got in the taxi. Aunt Ruby told the driver where to go, and we drove off fast.

‘I want to see what’s in the basket,’ Aunt Ruby said. ‘Can I look?’

‘Not now,’ Grandpa said. ‘Let’s eat the breakfast you made.’

Popeye, on Grandma’s shoulder, watched the moving basket.

When we got to Aunt Ruby’s house, breakfast was ready.

‘It’s not much,’ Aunt Ruby said. ‘We’ll add what you brought.’

She put the basket on the table, opened it, and fainted.

Watercolor illustration of Aunt Ruby fainting backwards into the dining table, sending a vase of flowers crashing to the floor. Her eyes are closed, and her arms are outstretched. A python is rising dramatically out of a picnic basket placed on the table, its forked tongue flickering. Grandpa is catching the python with surprising agility, his expression calm and reassuring. Grandma and the boy look on in concern, their faces etched with worry. Popeye is perched on the dining room chair, squawking excitedly. The dining room is furnished with ornate wooden furniture, a crisp white tablecloth, and delicate porcelain dishes. The light is soft and diffused, creating a chaotic yet humorous scene.

Grandpa picked up the python, took it to the garden, and put it on a pomegranate tree.

When Aunt Ruby woke up, she said she saw a big snake in the picnic basket. We showed her the empty basket.

‘You’re seeing things,’ Grandpa said. ‘You’re working too hard.’

‘Teaching is hard,’ I said.

Grandma didn’t say anything. But Popeye squawked and whistled, and everyone, including Aunt Ruby, laughed.

The snake must have gotten bored, because we never saw him again!

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