The Agile Mongoose and the Cobra
by Matias Travieso-Diaz
The mongoose knows his purpose: to kill the cobra. — Ranal Currie
In the early afternoon of a hot summer day, several people were assembled in an empty field near Shiva’s Devkali Mandir temple in the Auraiya District of Uttar Pradesh, less than two hours from the city of Agra. They were customers, milling around a roadside stand where travelers and locals stopped for savory snacks like chole bhature, aloo samosa, and golgappa.
The smells of the food being prepared and served attracted more than the usual visitors to the stand. A large snake emerged from a crack in the ground and slithered towards the gathering. It was yellowish orange in color, with a prominent head, a short snout and large nostrils, round unblinking eyes, and a tapered tail. As it approached the stand, the noises and movements of the customers startled the reptile, who raised the ribs in its neck area to form a prominent hood, the back of which displayed two dark circular patterns connected by a curved line, resembling spectacles. “It’s a naga, a cobra!” shrieked someone.
The cobra stood a few paces from the stand, its upper body oscillating right and left as it flickered its tongue and issued a loud, threatening hiss that caused the stand patrons to cower in fear.
One of them, who had come out of the temple to get a snack between rituals, dropped to his knees reverentially and intoned a greeting: “Hail, Vasuki, king of the nagas! May you rule for all time!”
The owner of the shack then came forward, brandishing a rake, intending to strike the snake or at least push it away. The worshipper stood up quickly and held the farmer’s hand, warning: “All nagas are sacred to Lord Shiv Ji, and must not be disturbed!”
“But it is getting ready to attack us!” replied the farmer. “What can we do?!”
“You should kiss the snake on the head and mimic its tongue-flicking, and you will be safe,” counseled the zealot.
The farmer shook his head in disagreement, but put the rake down and did not attempt to approach the snake. The other patrons also stood still, paralyzed by fright.
At first, the cobra remained on the ground, not moving. Then, as if propelled by an evil wind, it darted forward and bit a little girl on a leg. The child howled in pain and her mother picked her up and ran away, seeking safety behind the stand. The farmer and all the patrons except the Shiva worshiper followed the woman and dispersed in all directions.
It was then that, from the other side of the road, appeared a small, sleek form. It was a short-legged animal with a pointed nose, small ears, and a long, furry tail. Its fur was gray and flecked with strands of a lighter gray. Its legs had five toes ending in sharp claws. It smelled its surroundings hungrily and stood for a moment surveying the now deserted stand and noticed the zealot, who still knelt on the ground, murmuring.
Looking beyond the zealot, the mongoose noticed the cobra and started towards it, fast like a bolt of lightning. The zealot protested: “Go away, nevlaa!” But the mongoose darted past him and, reaching the cobra, scratched its hood with a swipe of its claws. The cobra reacted, snapping at its attacker. Alas, its fangs struck only air: the mongoose neatly jumped over the cobra and landed behind its opponent, ready to attack again.
A deadly dance then started. The cobra would twist and lunge, its fangs ready to drip venom, attempting without success to strike its moving target. The mongoose would jump behind the snake, seeking to secure its head with its jaws, which the snake prevented by whisking its head violently with a loud swishing sound. The cobra would then snap at the mongoose, but it was no longer there: it had jumped back or sideways a safe distance, getting ready to launch another attack.
The fight went on for a few moments. The mongoose seemed to have boundless energy, each foray ending with a bite at the head or hood of the snake. The cobra, who was not used to such prolonged exertions, would hiss in anger as it attempted fruitlessly to connect with the body of its enemy.
After several rounds, the cobra’s lunges became slower and less forceful. It was then that the mongoose sprinted at its opponent in a mad dash, grabbed the snake’s body between its paws, and delivered a savage crunch that cracked the cobra’s skull. With its last ounce of energy, the dying snake bit firmly into the mongoose’s belly, contracted the muscles around its venom glands, and forced the poison through the hollow fangs into the animal’s body.
For a moment, both combatants lay on the ground, unmoving. Then the mongoose, whose bloodstream contained a protein that bound to proteins in snake venom and made them harmless, slowly recovered and limped away, carrying the corpse of the snake to be devoured at its leisure. The only one remaining in the field was Shiva’s worshipper, who got up and returned to the temple to lament the end of Shiva’s companion and beg for the god’s forbearance for the sacrilege.
Among the witnesses to these events was a famous sage by the name of Pradeep V. Pillai, who later included an account of the incident in one of his famous lectures. At the end of the tale, Dr. Pillai would offer this conclusion: “Whether in human affairs or in the realm of nature, if you are confronted by a vicious cobra, you may challenge it and be victorious in opposing it. All that is required is an agile body, sheer determination, and the willingness to take a bite or two.”
Copyright © 2025 by Matias Travieso-Diaz
