This snake was born in an Indian metal shop more than 100 years ago. Silver on bronze, a candlestick.
My Grandfather worked for Standard Oil back then. Stationed in India, late teens, early 1920’s. Apparently, when the time came, it made the cruse back to the States with him. I was excited to find it, buried in a pile of once useful stuff, relegated to several silverfish ravaged cardboard boxes languishing unloved in a dark corner bay of Grandpa’s garage five stall garage. Broken into two pieces, it intertwined, snake like, around other things that needed some kind TLC to breathe life back into them again.
You know, the stuff that you can’t use but just can’t bring yourself to throw out. That was around 1975 or so.
After having the candlestick repaired, welded into one piece, it has been with me ever since. Back in the daze, when hallucinogenics were often a dietary staple, it would come alive and slither up the wall and across the ceiling, pausing to spit and posture. Never taking it seriously, I simply lay back and enjoyed the show.
When we first moved to St. Augustine, in the early 1990’s, I was surprised to see his siblings in the local “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” museum here in town. Two of them flank a fireplace mantel made from human bones.
So it's not one of a kind. Maybe one of two of a kind? Probably one of thousands across India. I have no clue.
These days, this guy adorns a wall near my kitchen, guarding the door between the main house and the great room. He hasn’t slithered in a long time and is probably expecting to eventually be buried in a pile of once useful stuff, relegated to several silverfish ravaged cardboard boxes in some dark corner of my garage.
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