She changed her approach. No more sedatives or appetite stimulants. Instead, she brought in a local musician who played the chenda —a drum Gajarajan had marched to during festivals. She placed a mirror in his enclosure so he could see his own reflection, a technique used in primate studies to reduce isolation stress. And every morning, she sat beside him and read aloud from the veterinary journal—not for the words, but for the calm, familiar rhythm of her voice.
On the twenty-first day, as the musician played the festival drum, Gajarajan lifted his trunk and let out a low, rumbling call—the kind elephants use to reunite with lost family.
On the tenth day, Gajarajan took a banana from her hand.
For three weeks, the elephant had refused food. He stood apart from the other two rescued elephants, facing the wall of his enclosure. He didn't trumpet. He didn't sway. He just... stopped.
On the fifteenth day, he let Rani stand next to him without flinching.
Anjali recorded everything. Her case study, “Behavioral Markers of Social Grief in Captive Elephants,” later became required reading for veterinary students across South Asia. She proved that animal behavior isn’t just a footnote to veterinary science—it’s the first chapter.
One of the reason I came to Goa was because of Mr. Mario Miranda. My dream has been fulfilled. The high point of my visit, I grew up with Mario and thank you for printing out the pictures and the lovely gift. 