READ MORE
Rajesh Savla
In the corridor outside Rajesh Savla's flat in Jogeshwari, two women in
nighties are fighting over the placement of dustbins. When the decibel
level rises, kids accumulate on the staircase, a toddler with a steel
glass upturned on one hand imitates their pitch and Savla's wife
prepares to intervene. But he pulls her back and stares at the
squabbling parties for a while. The tactic, however, does not work on
them the way it does on his four-legged clients who often scratch the
front door of his Maruti Omni.
Savla is the driver of a 24-hour private animal ambulance called Pawz pet taxi whose tagline is 'Any pets, Any time, Anywhere'. For four years now, Savla—whose van displays printouts of pets—has not had a day off. Even when his wife was pregnant with his daughter Khushi (whom he now likes to call "a wild animal"), there were many nights he had to leave her side to attend to injured animals. In fact, on occasions such as Diwali, Savla hardly get any shut-eye. This Diwali, he was busy attending to four calls, mostly about dogs with burns resulting from crackers. But the man who has helped rescue more than 600 animals so far has no regrets. "My household runs on dogs and cats," he says proudly.
There are at least three more such households in the city whose daily income comprises conveyance charges to and from animal hospitals and tips from animal lovers who "do not think too much about money" as Anil Pachupate, who runs the Trimurti Animal Ambulance Service, puts it. Diwali, Holi and Ganesh Chaturthi are usually sleepless nights, he says, as they are inundated with calls (sometimes routed through animal welfare NGOs). "The noise tends to frighten dogs. Often when they try to escape, they get injured," says Pachupate, who has come across entire families standing on the road because a stray had wandered into their house.
On the face of it, the job profile of these ambulance drivers seems simple. Every time they get a call about an injured or sick animal, they have to rush to the site, administer first-aid to the subject if required and take it to the nearest veterinary hospital (namely Ahimsa in Malad, BSPCA in Parel, SPCA in Thane and IDA in Deonar and Govandi). Some, like Savla, even like to keep tabs on everything from the animal's register number to its progress and follow up till it recovers.
The very nature of the occupants of their caged ambulances, however, presents unique occupational hazards. Pachupate, who started his ambulance service four years ago when he saw that taxis refused to ferry animals, has suffered at least five dog bites on the job. "But I am not afraid anymore," he says, adding that he now looks out for perked-up ears, goose bumps and a transfixed gaze—telltale signs of an imminent attack. The driver, who's sometimes taken stray dogs home after they recover, rushes to help even when he's not summoned—like the time last year when he heard about a fire at the New Golden circus tent at Chunabhatti. "Thankfully, the four horses and five performing dogs were unscathed," he says.
From a dog with a belly torn apart by barbed wire to a bunch of hounds attacked with acid, these ambulance drivers have seen it all. In fact, Savla once had to replace the back door of his van after a pregnant donkey kicked it while being rushed to the hospital. While ferrying maggot-infested dead dogs, they have to take special care. "The stench from maggots, they know, can disorient stray dogs, so we make sure not to park the ambulance on a busy road," says Pachupate.
The job has also acquainted the drivers with the way Mumbai treats its animals. "Eighty per cent of the people are nice to them while 20 per cent are decidedly not," says Hitendra Mota of Star Ambulance Service, who remembers the case of a dog that was lying at Parel Station with no limbs. Among the 20 per cent are people who scream "maar daalo", who run their bikes over dogs for cheap thrills. Mota, who has five ambulances, once tried to rescue a ten-year-old leopard lying on the Mumbai-Ahmedabad highway after being hit by a speeding vehicle. None of the motorists stopped. By the time Mota picked it up and rushed to the Sanjay Gandhi National Park, it was dead.
Sometimes, drivers even have to turn part-counsellors. When Savla once attended to a Rottweiler that had gone wild, he explained to the owners that the aggression could be attributed to the fact that its mating had been delayed.
Though the job fetches them a decent sum, driver Pradip Kadam of Pixey Ambulance Service confesses that if the caller is not well-heeled, they do not charge much. Time and again, however, they get calls that tend to throw them off their driving seats: "The pigeon has laid eggs outside our house. What to do?"
Savla is the driver of a 24-hour private animal ambulance called Pawz pet taxi whose tagline is 'Any pets, Any time, Anywhere'. For four years now, Savla—whose van displays printouts of pets—has not had a day off. Even when his wife was pregnant with his daughter Khushi (whom he now likes to call "a wild animal"), there were many nights he had to leave her side to attend to injured animals. In fact, on occasions such as Diwali, Savla hardly get any shut-eye. This Diwali, he was busy attending to four calls, mostly about dogs with burns resulting from crackers. But the man who has helped rescue more than 600 animals so far has no regrets. "My household runs on dogs and cats," he says proudly.
There are at least three more such households in the city whose daily income comprises conveyance charges to and from animal hospitals and tips from animal lovers who "do not think too much about money" as Anil Pachupate, who runs the Trimurti Animal Ambulance Service, puts it. Diwali, Holi and Ganesh Chaturthi are usually sleepless nights, he says, as they are inundated with calls (sometimes routed through animal welfare NGOs). "The noise tends to frighten dogs. Often when they try to escape, they get injured," says Pachupate, who has come across entire families standing on the road because a stray had wandered into their house.
On the face of it, the job profile of these ambulance drivers seems simple. Every time they get a call about an injured or sick animal, they have to rush to the site, administer first-aid to the subject if required and take it to the nearest veterinary hospital (namely Ahimsa in Malad, BSPCA in Parel, SPCA in Thane and IDA in Deonar and Govandi). Some, like Savla, even like to keep tabs on everything from the animal's register number to its progress and follow up till it recovers.
The very nature of the occupants of their caged ambulances, however, presents unique occupational hazards. Pachupate, who started his ambulance service four years ago when he saw that taxis refused to ferry animals, has suffered at least five dog bites on the job. "But I am not afraid anymore," he says, adding that he now looks out for perked-up ears, goose bumps and a transfixed gaze—telltale signs of an imminent attack. The driver, who's sometimes taken stray dogs home after they recover, rushes to help even when he's not summoned—like the time last year when he heard about a fire at the New Golden circus tent at Chunabhatti. "Thankfully, the four horses and five performing dogs were unscathed," he says.
From a dog with a belly torn apart by barbed wire to a bunch of hounds attacked with acid, these ambulance drivers have seen it all. In fact, Savla once had to replace the back door of his van after a pregnant donkey kicked it while being rushed to the hospital. While ferrying maggot-infested dead dogs, they have to take special care. "The stench from maggots, they know, can disorient stray dogs, so we make sure not to park the ambulance on a busy road," says Pachupate.
The job has also acquainted the drivers with the way Mumbai treats its animals. "Eighty per cent of the people are nice to them while 20 per cent are decidedly not," says Hitendra Mota of Star Ambulance Service, who remembers the case of a dog that was lying at Parel Station with no limbs. Among the 20 per cent are people who scream "maar daalo", who run their bikes over dogs for cheap thrills. Mota, who has five ambulances, once tried to rescue a ten-year-old leopard lying on the Mumbai-Ahmedabad highway after being hit by a speeding vehicle. None of the motorists stopped. By the time Mota picked it up and rushed to the Sanjay Gandhi National Park, it was dead.
Sometimes, drivers even have to turn part-counsellors. When Savla once attended to a Rottweiler that had gone wild, he explained to the owners that the aggression could be attributed to the fact that its mating had been delayed.
Though the job fetches them a decent sum, driver Pradip Kadam of Pixey Ambulance Service confesses that if the caller is not well-heeled, they do not charge much. Time and again, however, they get calls that tend to throw them off their driving seats: "The pigeon has laid eggs outside our house. What to do?"
No comments:
Post a Comment