We often find ourselves wishing for a long life for those we love. “May you live a hundred years,” we say.
Chameli did.
At 35 years old, the equivalent of nearly 105 human years, Chameli lived a life that stretched far beyond a sloth bear’s lifespan in the wild. In the tranquility of her home at the Agra Bear Rescue Facility (ABRF) in Uttar Pradesh, she took her final breath, leaving behind a presence that cannot be measured by years or time alone.
Chameli came into our lives two decades ago, from a past no animal should endure. Stolen from the wild as a cub and forced into the cruel practice of ‘dancing’ bears on the streets of Uttar Pradesh, her days were marked by pain since her childhood. Her pierced muzzle had a deep infected wound, yet every day her master would tug on the piercing rope, only aggravating her wound further. Her body was in a shockingly terrible state, to say the least. Chameli’s canines and incisors had been brutally pulled out to keep her ‘tamed’ and easy to handle. She had been receiving improper nutrition as was evident from her dry, rough coat. Chameli was emancipated from her stressful life in 2003 when her Kalandar master surrendered her, and she was rehabilitated to ABRF for lifelong care.
When she came to Wildlife SOS, the 12-year-old had already lost her eyesight partially. We made her a home in enclosure number one, fondly known as the “oldies’ den”, where time slows down for ageing and blind bears, helping them take their time to recover from physical or emotional trauma. Chameli always stood apart. Not because she was louder or stronger, but because she carried a spirit that refused to fade gently into the background.
If someone new came to visit her, she would greet them with a sudden mock charge before pausing in a firm stance, as if to ask, “Do I know you?”
With Chameli, there was always a certain mischief in the making. But beneath her jolly front lived something deeper shaped by memory. Chameli had learnt early in life that the world was not always kind. That hesitation led to hurt, and even screaming out of pain wouldn’t stop it.
After she was brought into lifelong care at Wildlife SOS, she did not become a different bear overnight. Healing is a journey, and for Chameli, it was never about forgetting. It was about learning, slowly, cautiously, that she no longer had to merely exist. And in that space, she was free to become entirely, and unapologetically, herself. And she soon came to realise that here, she will always be loved and cared for.
Chameli had her ways.
Her porridge had to be just right, milky enough, or she would refuse it without giving it a second look. Add coconut pieces, and she might as well just give you a sweet smile if she could. Watermelon and honey were always her favourite, small joys that never changed.
She absolutely loved her hammock, and that’s where she used to sleep. The rustle of leaves, distant calls of birds, and even the presence of other sloth bears never disturbed her. Chameli could sleep through it all for hours and hours, as though she had surrendered to a world that had, at last, softened around her.
In the last few years, age started to catch up with her, with her vision fading and her movements slowing. We made sure that her environment adapted to her needs. Enrichments were placed closer to each other, platforms were lowered, and the ground remained clean so she could navigate her space with ease. This was her world now, shaped around her comfort, her pace, her choices.
There were also some she delightfully allowed into her world.
Her caregiver, Deshraj, knew her better than most. There was a sweet ritual between the two, one built on patience and familiarity. He would approach her with pieces of watermelon hidden in his hands behind his back, careful not to reveal them too soon. Chameli would first inspect him from the front, sniffing intently, and then, almost instinctively, she would quickly move around to the back, finding her juicy treats just where she had suspected them to be. It was a small exchange, repeated over the years, but one that spoke of a trust she did not extend easily.
And then there was her connection with Srinu, the Senior Research Assistant at ABRF, with whom Chameli shared a different kind of bond. When he first joined Wildlife SOS, it was Chameli who left a lasting impression on him. There was something about her, her guarded nature, her history, the way she chose when and how to engage. Having spent long hours with her during target training sessions and routine health check-ups, the two began to understand each other better, with Chameli fondly accepting his presence, and Srinu appreciating the depth of her guarded nature.
It is often said that animals remember incidents that define their lives. Perhaps Chameli did too, but she also chose, in her own way, to forgive mankind and overcome what she experienced around people. Her love for both Deshraj and Srinu puts the best light on this.
While Chameli was most at ease in her own company, she had also shared a close bond with her enclosure mates. Michael, her closest friend, and Ganesha, were her companions through the years. They napped side by side, often settling into the same patches of shade. But as time moved forward, she outlived them both, and spent her final years in solitude.
Recently, consequences related to age became concerning. Chronic digestive issues were supplemented with a loss in appetite, which made us alter her diet chart. The foods she once relished, like porridge and honey, soon lost her interest in them.
And then, gently, her body gave way, multi-organ failure marking the end of a long and extraordinary life.
To know Chameli was to look past her guarded instincts, and understand that her temperament was not hostility, but a reflection of her history. And that despite everything she endured, she still made space in her heart for trust, comfort, and care from the people who dedicatedly loved her.
She lived a hundred years in one lifetime. And defined more than half of it the way she chose to.
We will miss you, Chameli.
Feature image: Mradul Pathak/Wildlife SOS
