Since the age of 12, I have been involved in handling snakes, particularly cobras, and have had a passion for rescuing them. In 1999, as a doctoral scholar at the Indian Veterinary Research Institute in Bareilly, I had the opportunity to live my dreams. The institute was teeming with cobras, and I often had around 10 of them in my hostel room, which I would catch from various places over the course of a few weeks. I kept them in a terrarium generously provided by one of the departments. When the terrarium was full, I would release them back into the wild. It became somewhat of a known fact among my friends that if the side box of my motorcycle was locked, it meant there was a cobra inside. During this time, I took the opportunity to educate other scholars about snakes. In the picture attached, you can see me with a stick, introducing Mrs. Naja, a cobra, to fellow postgraduate scholars on the hostel terrace.

On a fateful day, I vividly remember having 16 or 18 cobras of different sizes in the terrarium. A scientist from the surgery department wanted to test Ketamine anesthesia on the snakes to standardize the drug for reptile surgery. My routine was to return to my room around 9:00 PM, take a short rest for 15-20 minutes, and then go back to the lab. On this particular day, I decided to use this time to distribute the snakes, based on their sizes, into the rat cages provided by the surgery department. Being relatively inexperienced in handling snakes, I was carelessly free-handling the cobras. As I was segregating them, a four-foot female cobra unexpectedly bit my right middle finger as I inadvertently left it inside a cage. I quickly pulled my finger back, and panic surged through me as I saw the bite wounds and blood flowing from them. Fear consumed me, and I believed I was going to suffer a painful and pathetic death, similar to the fate of the rats I fed to these snakes. Meanwhile, the cobra, now free on my bed, observed me with a raised hood. I had to audibly reassure myself that things would be alright. Slowly regaining my composure, I carefully returned the snake to the cage. This is the first step one should take when bitten while handling snakes—either secure the snake properly or euthanize it in a humane manner to prevent those who come to your rescue from being bitten as well. I left the room and urgently called out to a friend on the second floor, asking him to come immediately. He casually inquired about the urgency, and I informed him that I had been bitten by a cobra. He was shocked and rushed down. I examined my finger and realized it was a single fang bite, with a few teeth marks and a deep tear, likely because I pulled my hand away as the snake bit. I asked my friend to make a small cut with a blade, but he almost severed my finger in the process. It’s important to be cautious as many snakebite victims have sustained additional harm from poorly performed cuts that severed arteries and nerves. I directed him to make a small linear nick on the fang wound and used warm water from the bathroom geyser to drain the blood for a while. Then, a tourniquet was applied to my arm. Within minutes, I experienced the excruciating pain caused by a tight tourniquet. It felt as though my arm might be severed at the knot. This is another mistake people often make—using a tourniquet that is too tight. Remember, a tight tourniquet can cause damage to your arm, even if the snake venom doesn’t. Subsequently, I was taken to the IVRI hospital. By that time, I had fully regained my composure and explained the situation to the duty doctor, Dr. Manu Malvia, who I knew as a cheerful person. I informed him that it was a single fang bite and, at worst, I might lose my finger. I even suggested that anti-venom might not be necessary. However, he insisted that I receive anti-venom and administered one vial. I was admitted for the night, and the next morning, all I had was a swollen finger, securely bandaged. Over the following week, the swelling gradually subsided, leaving behind a permanent scar that is now insensitive to touch. I consider myself fortunate to have come out of the ordeal with both my life and limb intact. My friends made me promise that I would never handle a cobra again, which I managed to uphold for a whole four hours before rescuing another cobra from a farmer’s house. In hindsight, I’m not even sure if I was actually envenomated. Nonetheless, it was an experience that made me a more complete snake handler.

The key take-home messages from this incident are as follows:

As a snake handler, never become complacent, as complacency can be deadly. Always maintain a healthy fear and a slight tremor, no matter how imperceptible, in your hands when handling venomous snakes, even on your hundredth rescue.

Use non-contact methods for rescuing snakes. Free-handling may be fascinating, but it can end disastrously for both the snake and the handler. A snake hook is essential for ensuring the safety and well-being of both parties.

The power of placebo and firm reassurance should not be underestimated. If an experienced individual like myself can succumb to fear after a bite, one can only imagine the plight of an average person. It is no wonder that more people die from fear rather than the actual effects of venom. Removing the mortal fear associated with snake bites is just as important, if not more so, than counteracting the venom itself. For those who are illiterate, administering any injection believed to be the ultimate remedy for snake bites (until anti-venom can be administered, which is essential) can significantly increase the chances of survival.

Anti-venom is the only effective treatment for bites from venomous snakes. Cutting the wound or using tourniquets can cause more harm than the venom itself.

A snake bite should not deter you from future rescues.