Confessions of a Monkey Thief

by Tim

I’ve done this so many times before, but each time I get a little nervous. The food is right there on the table. It’s almost too easy. That woman, innocently eating her chatpate. Delicious chatpate. I love that stuff. The key, as I always tell the eager young monkeys, is to just jump in like you own the place. Smash and grab. A strategy of shock and awe. We do own this place, of course – we’ve lived in Pashupatinath, along the Bagmati River long before the humans came and erected their temples. Before they decided to turn the river into their burning ghats for funerals and passage to the rebirth. The funny thing is, sometimes those humans come back as monkeys, and we get a real kick out of that. Sometimes we monkeys return as humans too. But that’s another story. This one is about food, and how I am about to eat that chatpate.

OK, time to go. I jump onto the table and spill chatpate everywhere. No time to waste. I shovel the spicy, oily, fried goodness into my mouth with my nimble monkey fingers. I don’t pay attention to the shocked faces. The wide open mouth of the woman who’s chatpate I’m stealing. But is it really stealing? I don’t know. We monkeys see things differently. Oh, time to scram – there comes the shopkeeper, yelling and waving his arms, picking up a stick. Hah, he thinks he’s fast. Ninja-like (though really, monkeys taught ninjas everything they know) I scramble to the roof. They’re helpless against a monkey of my cunning and craft.

I’m not done though. This next move is a little trickier. I need to wait long enough for them to forget about me. I wait as patiently as a monkey can wait. We’re not known for patience. My mind starts to wander and I think about . . . ok, long enough. I launch down from the roof and land perfectly between the snacking romantic couple. Those bright purple grapes they were eating? Mine now. Again, my nimble monkey fingers go to work and I snatch the bunch from her hands before her sluggish human brain can process anything. Humans have really lost their situational awareness. They feel so safe, like nothing can harm them. Oblivious. Grapes in my hand, now it’s time for my getaway. This move was pretty bold and it’s time to go. You thought humans were the only bipedal animals? Nope. I run away on my two legs and stuff grapes into my mouth with my hands. Shameless. I don’t even care. Embarrassment? Not a monkey thing. I’ve got the grapes now, and they’ve got none.

Now, that’s interesting – these four aren’t from around here. Cuides, foreigners. Looks like two parents and their two long-haired kids. Looking at me and laughing. I’m curious. I wonder what’s in their bag. They actually look like the ones that my mentor stole some sandwiches from a few years back . . .