The Naughty Sugar Glider

By Debananndita Ray

Grandpa Yogi liked collecting things. He gathered all types of yellowed leaves from the autumn trees, collected strange-looking pinecones, and possessed a huge gallery of broken watches to all types of butterfly wings. But above all, he liked collecting animals. He had his house full of little snakes, monkeys, turtles, lizards, and hamsters. As if these weren't enough, he made up his mind to get another addition to this wild, tangled family. Grandma Yogi had coped with her husband all along, and had supported her husband in an amused manner to gather and sort his reservoir of things out. But, they were quite young back then. Now, they had grown old, like the fiery-smelling cedar outside their red-tiled home. Grandma was growing more exasperated by the day, since they could no longer handle the mess their full-grown animals were causing. She had already managed to pester her husband into succumbing to selling all of their snakes and three monkeys to the local zoo.

Grandpa was found brooding alone under the cedar pine for days on end. His bushy eyebrows obstructed anyone from seeing the expression in his eyes. Then one day, late in the afternoon, grandpa Yogi sat in the shade of the cedar with his newspaper on a foldable steel chair. He perked up after reading a particular article on the bottom of the second page. An abandoned baby sugar-glider had been spotted clinging to the base of the tree near the highway. If anyone was willing to adopt it, they may contact so-and-so authorities for permission. Grandpa jumped up, pulled on his khaki pants and shirt, and was off. Grandma, who was nearby watering the rose bush, was surprised. She hadn’t seen such energy since the time her husband had brought back the egg of a gopher snake from a nearby nest. She concluded that Mr. Yogi had probably been off to bring back a knick-knack for the shelf, or another broken watch. The authorities advertise for all that useless stuff nowadays, she thought, and went back to watering the plants.

Mr. Yogi reached the spot of interest in his creaky 1965 Ford Mustang Shelby Cobra. Grandpa Yogi was a formidable figure in the village, for previously he had been the only station master in the dingy little platform in the village for the past 45 years, and had done his job with dignity. Twirling his whiskers and sucking in his paunch as much as he could, he strode up to the group of people who had captured the little sugar-glider in a cage with water and some fruits. They made way for him, and eyed the fat wallet that peeped from inside his breast pocket. The locals showed him the helpless baby. Grandpa Yogi opened the cage, slipped his index finger in between the arms of the sugar-glider, who immediately clung on to the warmth. He slowly pulled the little thing out, and placed him on the edge of his collar on his chest. He handed the locals a fairly fat sum, and drove to a bookshop in the bazaar.

Once inside, he called the authorities from the yellow coin payphone and asked for permission to adopt the poor animal. He was granted permission, as long as the little glider was released into the wild as soon as it was healthy enough to survive on its own. Grandpa agreed, at least for the time being. After hanging up, he searched the shelves for a guide to animal care. At last, he found one. Inside, there were 3 full pages dedicated to the care of all flying squirrel-like creatures. He bought the book, and drove around the corner to a dry fruit stall. He purchased some small fruits and nuts for the glider, and a packet of pistachios for himself. Last stop was at a cloth store. He bought a small piece of thick linen for wrapping the glider in, a new dhoti for himself, and a sparkling, yet simple bright green sari as a bribe to his wife to keep the sugar-glider. Back home he went, and faced the usual scolding for being late for lunch and that the food was getting cold. He was served an aromatic lunch of jeera rice, dal with lemongrass and parsley, and a vegetable curry of spring onions, potatoes and peas with a clear veggie soup. Alongside, there was a bowl full of small nuts and seeds. He snuck a groundnut to his collar, and the small glider nibbled away at it. Then, he looked back to his own plate. Delicious, he thought. A little too good, though. He looked at Grandma Yogi, who smiled from the kitchen. She said “I’ve always wanted a flying squirrel for a change.” Grandpa Yogi was delighted. He gave a little whoop of joy and presented his wife with the sari. Grandma smiled, and accepted the gift with feigned hesitance. Then, he went off to his room to read the book he had bought with the little glider.

Days went by. The little glider had learnt to glide short distances, and jump on command. Alongside, he also proved to be a little menace. It would crawl over the rainwater drain on the roof, and climb up to the antenna. This way, grandpa couldn’t watch three long-awaited matches on tv, but had to go to the neighbors. Then, the glider would hide inside the warm pots and pans in the kitchen, and had nearly missed death by boiling water a few times. It would get itself dirty in the garden soil while searching for worms, and wreck the bathroom if taken to bathe. It would nibble at grandpa’s glasses and get little teeth scratches over the lens, scramble over grandma’s sari and tear the cloth, hang from the light bulbs, and sit on top of the cupboards and refuse to come down. All this made grandma weary of the little glider, but grandpa only turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to complaints regarding his little baby. The glider would sometimes disappear for hours, a real relief to both grandma and grandpa. But the next day, they'd find out that the glider and clawed and scratched one of the local’s kids. This way, the glider caused chaos and mini explosions throughout the neighbourhood, keeping the people well aware of its presence. Although everyone had once been kept awake at night by the glider, they all secretly adored it. Its small, soft body and tail, large glistening eyes, and a cute pink nose made them want one for their own. Day by day, the mischievous little glider measured its limits, and finally crossed the final point. On the day of Diwali, the glider had sent a firecracker bursting through the lanes and streets. The glider itself, terrified by the noise, had zig-zagged through the crowd of people, jumping above people’s heads and shoulders. It was at last found shivering inside a crevice in the cedar tree at the Yogi’s home. Ashamed and drained of all strength, grandma and grandpa handed the glider over to the zoo for further administration, since by then the glider had grown to its full potential. As a break, grandma and grandpa planned a trip to the circus with the neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw and their twin children. They drove in grandpa’s Ford Mustang and reached the tent, which was located in the middle of a forest clearing. They purchased the tickets, and occupied their seats at the second row, nearest to the performance arena. The bright lamps flickered and went off, and there was darkness… The people assumed this was part of the show and clapped, cheered and made high-pitched whistles at the stage. The ringmaster, in his otherwise fabulous costume, looked more like a bundle of glitter without the light. He produced a megaphone and announced that this was, surprisingly, not part of the show, and that the electric cords had been nibbled off by an animal. This mischievous action could not have been the work of any of the circus animals, since they were all locked and caged. And even if they had managed to escape, they would have caused large bite marks, but the ones on the wires were made by a tiny entity. There were moans, gasps and shouts of anger from the crowd. The show had ended without even starting! Many people stood up and were about to leave, when… a spotlight turned on and shone from above the arena. It was directed not at the stage, but at the linen tent wall of the circus. There was a small animal, mostly a squirrel, who sat in front of the light. The shadow of the creature was visible, sharp and clear. Everyone watched it with bated breath. The curious shadow of the animal hopped, nearer and nearer, and took off. It spread its arms and feet, and glided like a kite over the stage. Its tail swished like a rudder of a boat, helping it to navigate. The shadow zoomed and circled in the spotlight, and the crowd cheered. This proved to be even better than a circus performance! An employee of the circus made haste and turned on some music. The music was like that of a hero, arriving in a dramatic entry to save the world. The music matched very ironically with the shadow performer, and everyone laughed and cheered at it. Suddenly, the lights came on. The electrician had fixed the cables. But who was the shadow performer? Lo and behold, it was grandpa’s sugar-glider! It was still in the air, soaring above people’s heads towards the roof of the tent. It came zooming down, made a somersault, and landed right on top of grandpa’s shiny dome! The crowd erupted with laughter, and clapped as hard as they could. The people sitting around and about grandpa, patted him on the back and clapped his shoulders. Grandpa took the mischievous little performer down from his bald head and cradled it in his arms. They watched the rest of the show together in perfect happiness. How the sugar-glider got to the circus, however, was a concern kept aside for another day.

By Debananndita Ray