These months a whisper floats among the coconut trees and rice fields of the hypertropical Indian state of Kerala. The hornbills murmur, the water buffaloes know it too and nothing else is talked about in the various elephant herds. A newcomer to the jungle seems to promise the freedom of so many captives in the southern temples, where the Nadayiruthal is celebrated, an offering to the gods through an elephant adorned with flowers and garlands. “Yes, the same one that his caregivers seclude and mistreat to keep him under control!” exclaims one of his contemporaries.
In the panchayat – municipal council – nothing else is talked about and the elephants of the Kerala jungle sigh because someone promises to change everything. And the first elephant has arrived in India that does not cry or feel pain, but can do the same as them.
Despite the many articles published on the Internet, which mention the existence of a certain Irinjadapilly Sree Krishna Temple, the truth is that this lost oasis exists on Google Maps under another name. If you search for Irinjadapilly Chengumkavu Temple in your browser, the destination will take you to a lost corner of the Kerala countryside 29 kilometers from the city of Thrissur.
After finding the location, there is nothing better than getting on a train, where the air disappears among the crowd, while the superlative green passes in fast motion through the window. Upon arrival, a rickshaw wants to take me, but the temple turns out to be only a kilometer away. I walk along a road overlooking banana trees, coconut fiber bonfires and colorful houses until, finally, I reach a temple, in whose garden there is an elephant.
Irinjadapilli Raman is an animal that is 3.3 meters tall, weighs 800 kilos and has a long trunk. However, the only thing that differentiates it from other elephants is that its skin is made of iron and it uses a rudimentary wheeled cart to move. At first glance, this elephant with an almost unpronounceable name could be likened to a forgotten fairground attraction in the back rooms of the jungle, but Irinjadapilli Raman is much more: an animal that seems to be alive and is just as loved as its counterparts in the different temples. of the Hindu community of Kerala.
India's first robotic elephant was donated by PETA and actress Parvathi Menon, in early 2023, to this temple owned by the Irinjadapilli family. A place of worship and a modest appearance, whose interior housed in previous decades several astrologers who came here seduced by its strategic position under the moon. However, the reason why many locals come to sniff around today is to contemplate the new miracle of the jungle.
This new inhabitant is capable of not only moving its ears and head, but also even pouring water through its trunk thanks to the presence of an internal tank. At some point, tears are even seen on his cheeks. “It's because sometimes there is too much water inside,” Rajkumar, the temple priest, tells me with amusement, who comes out to meet me when he sees me alone in the garden. “Unfortunately, there are other elephants that I have seen really cry.”
According to Wildlife SOS, there are currently up to 2,600 captive elephants in India. The reasons are multiple: from their training to serve the world of tourism through guided tours – a specialty in places like the Amber Fort in Jaipur – to their use in events like the Nadayiruthal, a ritual through which they are given as offerings to the gods. In order to perform the ceremony, many elephants remain locked in the temple itself and are often mistreated by their mahouts, as the caretakers of these noble animals are known in southern India.
“The rotation of caretakers that an elephant has is extensive and, generally, each new mahout will apply his ‘justice’ through whipping and mistreatment,” says Rakjumar. “This treatment is carried out in order to keep the animal under control or to force it to walk under the scorching sun. They can even blind the elephant to have greater control.”
The chains of tradition are heavy and, in most cases, indefinite: “Many of these elephants are separated from their families and ecosystems at very young ages,” continues Rakjumar. “And the worst thing is that once they are separated from nature they can no longer obtain freedom and are chained until death. The ritual readings are based on tantric texts and no book says anything about using elephants, so it is just an attraction in which it is not necessary to have live animals.”
Last April, Irinjadapilli Raman became the big sensation at the temple's Nadayiruthal. A news that spread by word of mouth throughout the entire Thrissur area. “After it became known that we had such an elephant, many temples began to ask us to rent it for different events,” continues Rajkumar, as he invites me to climb on top of the elephant via a ladder. “Currently Rs 8,800 is charged per event. The elephant is transported to the temple that commissions it and then returns here.”
Shortly after, Rajkamur plugs the power outlet back in and the elephant's ears activate at high speed, as if it were really alive and excited. He even inspires the same tenderness as one of his brothers. Irinjadapilli is so real that anyone can love him. When Rajkamur shares some photos of him with his cell phone, no one would say that that decorated elephant he wears at different events has an internal gear instead of a heart.
PETA's action regarding the problem of elephant abuse in India has only just begun, according to Rajkumar: "Many more will come, but for the moment this elephant is changing things." It happens in India and other places in the world: small places where small actions are taken to achieve gigantic changes. And meanwhile, somewhere not too far away between tall coconut trees and fairy-tale marshes, nature doesn't just whisper. She also sighs, relieved.
