Three Generations Devoted to the Care of Central Zoo Animals: A Family’s Ascension

Kathmandu, April 26 -- "These animals were quite young when we saved them and took them to the zoo," explains Hari Krishna Shrestha. "We placed them in the zoo nursery, where I looked after them."

Inside the meeting hall of the Central Zoo in Jawalakhel, life-sized taxidermy figures of a lemur couple stand facing each other on top of a table. These can appear as mere decorations to visitors; however, 61-year-old Hari Krishna, who used to be a zoo caretaker before retiring, recognizes these lemurs—once full of energy, playfully perched on his lap, climbed onto his shoulders, ate food right out of his hand, and received care during their illnesses.

For more than six decades, the experiences of three generations of a family—Hari Krishna, his father Krishna Lal Shrestha (who died in 2006), and son Surendra Shrestha—have been closely linked with those of the creatures at the Central Zoo, much like these lemurs.

Krishna Lal, who retired in 1980 after serving for approximately two decades, and Hari Krishna, who retired in 2023 following four decades of service, were custodians at Central Zoo tasked with nurturing an array of species—from big cats like tigers and lions, primates such as chimpanzees and monkeys, herbivores including rhinoceroses, hippos, deer, and zebras, along with various reptiles and avian residents. These dedicated individuals tended to these creatures day and night: providing food, maintaining cleanliness, administering care during illnesses, celebrating births, supporting through aging, and enduring the challenges posed by dangerous predator encounters. Their experiences encompassed both profound joy and sorrow throughout their long careers.

Sitting close to the stuffed lemur, Hari Krishna shares with me stories from his father’s life and their combined 64 years as custodians. At the same time, about a hundred meters away in the area of the zoo where tigers and other big creatures reside, Surendra, who took over his father's role following his retirement, busily attends to these animals with great dedication.

Glowstick, baton, and shadowy spirits

In 1934, Prime Minister Juddha Shumsher of Nepal constructed a personal zoological garden near an ancient Malla-period pond within the grounds of his Jawalakhel Durbar residence in Jawalakhel. This enclosure housed elephants, horses, deer, monkeys, tigers, rhinos, clouded leopards, red pandas, bears, palm civets, four-horned antelopes, Himalayan gorals, various species of pheasant, Himalayan monals, lions, gharials, and porcupines—making for quite a diverse array of creatures both unusual and foreign to many visitors. Following the significant shift in politics during 1951, control over this menagerie passed into governmental hands. By 1956, it had been transformed into what would become known as the nation’s sole centralized zoo open to all citizens. It so happened that not far away—in fact just a short distance off—the young Krishna Lal entered the world at Kumaripati roughly concurrent with these developments involving the construction of the prime minister's animal sanctuary right next door.

Hari Krishna mentions that Krishna Lal became part of the zoo staff in 1960, taking up the role of night guard. According to Hari Krishna, this nighttime protection was crucial for safeguarding the animals since cases of animal theft were frequent. Additionally, constant monitoring throughout the day and night ensured timely reporting of any emergencies involving the creatures under their care.

In the 1960s, Jawalakhel was a thinly populated area surrounded by semi-wild terrain. Hari Krishna mentions that when his father started working there, the zoo had no electrical power.

Hari Krishna remembers his father mentioning that since the number of zoo visitors was minimal, the pathways and areas around the zoo were overrun with tall, neglected grasses and shrubs. Additionally, he recollects his father stating that there was an absence of electric lighting and bulbs to illuminate the paths and animal enclosures.

A 26-year-old named Krishna Lal was committed to fulfilling his responsibilities. However, armed merely with an faintly glowing oil lamp in one hand and a stick in the other, protecting the zoo and its remarkable animals proved challenging. Adding to this difficulty were mysterious spirits reportedly haunting the area, instilling fear into him during the darkest hours of the night.

Hari Krishna recalled his father saying that eerie noises emerged from the pond’s edge at the zoo past midnight, sounding like parents arguing while their children wept.

Despite the constant horrors, Krishna Lal persisted with his duties. After serving as a guard for several years, he was assigned to various areas within the zoo to tend to the creatures.

In 1980, he chose to resign from his role in order to take on a new position. There was someone who needed to step in for him.

"Of course, my son," Krishna Lal proposed.

Growing up, Hari Krishna often heard tales from his father about the local zoo and the daily echo of the lion’s roar throughout the Kumaripati neighborhood. The zoo turned into one of his favorite places for youthful escapades during childhood. Frequently joining his dad on visits to the zoo, at roughly eight years old, he started vending buns out of a modest box to the tourists visiting the site.

Early in his life, Hari Krishna developed a strong desire to work with animals. At just sixteen years old, he eagerly followed in his father’s footsteps. For the initial five-year period, he was assigned the role of a night watchman.

In Jawalakhel and at the Central Zoo, not much had evolved since his father’s era. While a handful of lightbulbs were positioned around certain animal cages, large parts of the zoo remained enveloped in deep shadow. Thus, akin to his father before him, he roamed the grounds carrying a lantern and a stick, meticulously steering clear of routes that his father had advised against.

He mentions, 'Guarding the zoo at night was terrifying.' He adds that his father warned him to stay away from specific sections near the pond due to ghostly presences, so he adhered strictly to this guidance.

Caring, bonding and births

Following several years as a nighttime guardian, Krishna Lal shifted to various animal departments within the zoo. Each day upon waking up, one of his initial responsibilities entailed touring the entire facility to check on all the inhabitants inside their respective cages—evaluating if the critters seemed healthy or unwell, lively or lethargic, and ensuring they had eaten properly—and reporting any oddities directly to management staff. Subsequently, he would proceed with tidying up their living spaces, cooking meals, and serving them accordingly. Additionally, taking care during birthing periods or providing medical assistance whenever an illness occurred fell under his duties too.

Throughout his time there, Krishna Lal tended to various creatures such as the Chinese alligator, zebra, chimpanzees, rhinoceroses, lions, tigers, leopards, and numerous bird species, developing strong connections with each animal. However, what Hari Krishna remembers most vividly is a particular duo of chimpanzees.

In 1971, a pair of chimpanzees named Kanchha and Kanchhi were transferred to the Central Zoo from the Cincinnati Zoo in the United States as part of an exchange involving red pandas. Prior to this move, these primates had lived much of their lives traveling and entertaining audiences with various acrobatic acts after being trained in a circus setting. By the time they joined the Cincinnati Zoo collection, both animals were considered elderly. Besides participating in performances, they also enjoyed drinking tea and coffee and smoking cigarettes. Upon arriving at the new zoo, they quickly gained popularity among visitors who flocked just to catch sight of them. It was under the watchful eye of Krishna Lal that these two chimps settled into life at their new home.

Hari Krishna mentions, "My father was the person responsible for feeding and taking care of them, providing tea, coffee, and cigarettes."

When Krishna Lal chose to resign from his position and Hari Krishna was set to take over, he contacted the latter.

He always emphasized loving animals," he shared with Hari Krishna, recounting insights gained over 20 years of animal care. "They will not harm you when treated with kindness.

Throughout the years and decades, Hari Krishna tended to numerous animals that his father had also nurtured over an even longer period; his father’s teachings formed an unshakeable bedrock for his endeavors. He recalls with great affection a zebra, several tigers, rhinoceroses, wild buffalo, langurs, various monkeys, a hippopotamus, a lynx, lemurs, along with a variety of birds, amongst others, which came into his care. Among these, some held particular significance in his heart.

Thuli and Sani—a brother-and-sister duo of tiger cubs found in the forests of Chitwan—were taken to the zoo in 1982. There, they were adopted as cherished companions by Hari Krishna. He nurtured them with bottle-fed milk and spent playful times together. The tigers would rush toward Hari Krishna, leap onto him, and grasp his messages clearly. A special connection formed between them; Hari Krishna also occasionally led them on walks throughout the zoo grounds.

When Hari Krishna was 18 years old, he assumed responsibility for caring for Sani and Thuli, raising them much like a son would care for his father. The affection developed during this period in his teenage years still echoes through the memories of the now 61-year-old Hari Krishna when thinking about Sani and Thuli.

When they arrived, their eyes could hardly stay open," he remembers. "I fastened chains around their necks and walked them through the zoo until they reached the size of a German Shepherd. If I called them, they would come dutifully; if I told them to sit, they obeyed without fail. It was clear how thoroughly I had trained them.

During one of their outings, Sani and Thuli confronted and mildly hurt a guest, after which they were confined. Nevertheless, they continued to receive care from Hari Krishna and became familiar with him over time.

Hari Krishna ultimately took care of and formed a deep bond with numerous tigers. He explains, "Maybe because I have been caring for tigers from an early age, and particularly for Thuli and Sani among all the animals I've tended to, I feel most connected to tigers."

In 2000, a duo of siamangs, famous for their harmonious group vocalizations, came over from Malaysia as part of an exchange program and were placed under his supervision. The zoo staff, including Hari Krishna, affectionately named these animals Kale and Kali. As he neared retirement, Hari Krishna took charge of raising a pair of lemurs that had been saved from Kathmandu.

Krishna Lal and Hari Krishna, as custodians, were among the initial witnesses to births. Hari Krishna had the ability to recognize when a female being was expecting. He often became the earliest observer of numerous beings alongside their newborns.

On his smartphone, he finds an image of a vervet, a type of South African monkey, holding its baby.

One morning during rounds, he noticed the female vervet encircled by deep crimson blood, and upon closer inspection, realized a newborn was securely cradled in her embrace.

About two months prior, I had separated the male vervet to safeguard the female because I observed her abdomen swelling," he explains. "Now, I could determine from the blood that she had given birth around 4 AM.

He shares with me numerous instances where wild buffalos, red monkeys, langurs, spotted deer, blackbucks, and various other animals that he cared for brought forth their young.

He states that on numerous occasions, he personally witnessed spotted deer and blackbucks giving birth.

One morning during September 2009, he discovered that Kali the siamang, an ape under his supervision, had given birth to a baby. Throughout those years, Kale Jr—the name given to the young male—developed under the watchful eye of Hari Krishna. Shortly before Hari Krishna retired, Kale Jr., now 14 years old, fell sick.

"He maintained constant surveillance over him, monitoring his actions and ensuring he consumed the fruits and vegetables I provided. He made certain that everything was eaten," he explains.

A mobile clip from back then depicts Kale Jr., with a pale face and sorrowful eyes, eating something from a platter filled with fruits and vegetables in front of him. Thanks to Hari Krishna's attention, he managed to recover.

A chimpanzee tears off a digit, Thuli prepares to take action.

Lone affection was insufficient to guarantee protection from beasts that had the potential to become unpredictably aggressive. The limited size of their cramped quarters heightened both their agitation and hostile actions. Additionally, because there wasn’t enough room between the enclosures and the public areas, guests would provoke these animals through taunting and prodding them with poles. This anger led the creatures to lash out at the visitors; throughout many years, numerous instances occurred where residents suffered bites, attacks, and injuries inflicted by the captives.

On occasion, the animals' anger extended to those who cared for them. Both the father and son found themselves in perilous circumstances due to the very creatures they had formed strong bonds with.

One day, Krishna Lal was serving coffee to Kanchha or Kanchhi from a cup when numerous guests gathered at the entrance. Unexpectedly, the chimpanzee grabbed his finger and gave it a bite. At that moment, Hari Krishna, who was about 10 years old and vending buns closeby, saw the whole event happen before his eyes.

"Some visitors provoked the chimpanzee, causing it to become enraged. The chimp grabbed hold of my father’s hand, clamped its teeth down on his finger, tearing off part of it before finally tossing him out of the enclosure," Hari Krishna recounts.

The bloody fragment of a finger ricocheted near Hari Krishna's bun box. He was quickly taken to Patan Hospital in Lagankhel.

He mentions, 'My dad was unable to sleep for three days due to the pain.' He continues, 'Despite their attempts to reattach the detached part of his finger, they were unsuccessful, so my father spent his entire life with a severed digit.'

A number of years afterward, Hari Krishna found himself in a perilous predicament linked directly to his cherished Thuli. The tiger enclosures featured partitions with bars dividing them into separate sections. Typically, when one side was being cleaned, the tigers would be confined to the opposite section.

One day, as Hari Krishna stepped into the enclosure for cleaning, he noticed that Sani was inside the smaller section. Behind him, he could hear ferocious snarls. When he turned back, their gazes locked; Thuli was stretching and about to descend from the wooden platform in the room’s far corner. According to his colleague, who usually informed him that the tigress should be secured, she claimed they were already locked up. However, Hari realized then that he’d neglected this crucial task.

"Thuli!" Hari Krishna shouted despite the fear gripping him inside.

Grunting in reply, Thuli answered when I mentioned her name," he remembers. "Thus, I believed she wouldn’t assault me. I let go of the broom and quickly exited the enclosure.

Apparently, if you have raised an animal, they typically wouldn’t hurt you. Had I panicked, Thuli might have attacked me because that’s generally how animals react. However, I called out to her and waited until she confirmed with her behavior that she wasn’t going to attack before slipping away. Remaining calm ensures that the animal doesn’t perceive a threat and thus won’t cause harm.

'Sadness of losing animals'

With careful vigilance, dangers posed by animals might have been prevented. Yet, nothing could spare them from the anguish of witnessing the creatures they had nurtured depart this world.

Within a few years of arriving in the zoo, Kanchha and Kanchhi died. "Of course, it made my father sad to see them go," Hari Krishna says.

The duo of lemurs, each about two years old, were saved by the Department of Forests, located in Kathmandu, and transferred to the Central Zoo in 2017.

When they first came, they were still very young. I would cradle them to feed them with a bottle of milk. Often, I’d stay beyond 7-8 PM just to administer their medication before heading back home," he explains. "They used to leap onto my body; they recognized me.

Due to the coronavirus lockdown, they fell sick. The woman passed away in August 2020, and just four days after her, the man also died.

They did not survive for long. When you look after an animal, nurture them, and then witness their passing, it can be quite heartbreaking," Hari Krishna remarks. "Seeing them go definitely brings about feelings of sadness.

In 1995, Thuli passed away at the age of 13. A year later, Sani also departed at the age of 14. Following the arrival of their offspring, Kale Jr., his mother, Kali the siamang, encountered a medical problem. She ultimately passed away in 2011 at the age of 21. The patriarch, Kale, reached the age of 32 before he died in 2023.

The brutal killing of two rhinos has also remained with Hari Krishna. In 1990, two rhinos at the Central Zoo were poisoned by poachers at night.

The rhinos were discovered deceased in the morning. The first one had its horn removed and stolen," he explains. "It seems the poachers might not have had enough time to extract the horn from the second rhino.

One of the reasons Hari Krishna visits the Central Zoo nearly daily since his retirement is due to his emotional connection with the animals he used to care for. Each morning, he arrives at the zoo and strolls through it, pausing at various enclosures to watch over the creatures he once looked after and check up on their well-being.

He still thinks about them," he remarks. "Wondering how they are and what they could possibly be up to.

Visiting the zoo allows him to mentor his son Surendra.

From grandfather to grandson

At 10:15 on this beautiful April morning, Surendra leaves the wild buffalo pen, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with manure. The hems of his trousers are rolled up past his shins, and his face glistens from exertion. Prior to starting the cleanup, he had made his initial rounds for the day—visiting the tiger, rhinoceros, hippo, and various monkey enclosures—to monitor their behavior and alert the vet about any abnormalities or illnesses. Now halfway through his tenure since succeeding his father, Surendra has comfortably assumed the role of caregiver.

Raised amidst Hari Krishna’s numerous tales about the zoo and carrying forward their multi-decade family tradition as custodians, Surendra felt an immense sense of duty and honor taking over from his father. However, despite this, when faced with actual encounters involving fierce beasts such as tigers and enormous creatures, he couldn’t help but feel terrified.

Initially, he admits being frightened about working with the animals due to concerns over unpredictable behavior. He adds that the job itself was challenging as well.

However, he had his father’s support and relied on his tried-and-true guidance whenever needed.

“Before you step into a tiger’s enclosure, ensure that the tigers are confined in another cage with securely fastened doors,” Hari Krishna advised Surendra right as he was beginning his work. “Prioritize your safety at all times. Double-check the movements of the monkeys prior to entering their pen.”

Over time, Surendra became more confident in understanding the behavior and habits of the animals, as well as what triggered their attacks.

Shortly before Hari Krishna’s retirement, a wild buffalo had a calf. Since the mother buffalo wasn’t consistently nursing her offspring, Hari Krishna stepped in to care for the newborn using a bottle. This became an occasion for him to groom Surendra for what lay ahead.

On his cellphone, Hari Krishna demonstrates a clip where he tenderly supports the calf’s neck to allow it to drink from a bottle.

He explains that here, he is showing Surendra how to feed the calf.

Next, he plays another segment where Surendra is mimicking his father as he feeds the calf, with Hari Krishna observing closely.

The baton has genuinely been handed over to Surendra, along with more than six decades of familial tradition dedicated to looking after the creatures at the Central Zoo.

He mentions, 'My grandfather looked after the creatures at the zoo, and my father succeeded him. I am thrilled to carry on this tradition now.'