Six months ago, I had signed a petition against having these beautiful creatures sent to humid Mumbai. Therefore, making my way in this ferocious heat with two kids to see the Humboldt penguins at Rani Baug is not my ideal way of spending a summer day, writes Vinitha Ramchandani
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Penguin enclosure (indoors), Rani Baug
Six months ago, I had signed a petition against having these beautiful creatures sent to humid Mumbai. Therefore, making my way in this ferocious heat with two kids to see the Humboldt penguins at Rani Baug is not my ideal way of spending a summer day. The queue at my first attempt was jaw-droppingly long. So, we return at 8.30 am on the following day, hoping to avoid the heat and enthusiastic Mumbaikars eager to visit India's first zoo to display penguins. And then we stop. Busloads of school kids have disembarked on the grounds of the zoo. The security guards are looking frazzled, and some are even waving lathis.
Tickets triumphantly in our hands, we join the stream of school kids entering the zoo. Whenever I enter Rani Baug, I look at the magnificent Baobab trees that flank the gate at the entrance, and find an instant sense of calm. Not many are aware the space also happens to be Mumbai's only heritage botanical garden; it's the largest open, green space and greatest agglomeration of trees. Yet, as we walk through, I feel as if the tree cover has thinned out. Just as I am telling myself that this is my bias, I stop in my tracks. The pathway is lined with topiary sheared to the shape of Disney characters. The beautiful Rani Baug now has resorted to using topiary made of plastic greenery with bright faux flowers. Nobody around me shares my alarm.
Pics/ Shadab Khan, Bipin Kokate, Suresh Karkera
There are directions for every other zoo occupant but nothing about the penguins. So we follow the crowds. After a brisk 10-minute walk, we spot a building that resembles a municipal school. The signage on the nondescript structure is in Devnagri script: Humboldt Penguin Kaksh. It is flanked by the BMC logo. We are almost at the entry point when a nasty verbal duel breaks out between the security staff and two visitors. It is too hot, there are too many people inside the Kaksh, and the rest of us simply have to wait.
Finally, we enter. It's quite the anti-climax. Huddled together, looking slightly bigger than ducks, are the Humboldt penguins. We can't see any ice. We can't see much water either. The penguins barely move. Massive imitation rocks surround them. But, television screens mounted around and posters display a chubbier version of the penguins. My kids, who are used to seeing the animated cheeky penguins in the movie, Madagascar, are bewildered.
But there's no time to stand and stare. There's a fast-filling line outside; the staff prod everyone out after barely a minute of penguin-gazing. We step out into the blazing sun with a sense of utter dismay.