The story of another ‘Jake’

My friend and I had gone to a road-side restaurant by the city. In fact, it was the second visit to that place for my friend and my first. One word about my friend – he has a wonderful love for animals and films. Once there, he started asking after a mongrel dog which stays by the dhaba’s lot. My friend told me, “You have got to see him and understand the sheer willpower he has.” I asked him why and he responded, “This dog drags himself along the ground cos his hind legs don’t work. His hind legs are paralysed.” So you see, the dog is a cripple. The dhaba’s staff informed us that the dog was away and might be coming back later.

We saved some chicken pieces from our lunch. When we went out to the lot’s entry gate, we saw a dusty brown-coloured dog walking and alternately, hopping towards us. It was the crippled dog but now, instead of dragging himself all along the path, he was walking and hopping. My friend said,” Last time when I saw him, his hind legs were completely useless; he was just lying on the ground. But now look at him - he is learning to use his hind legs by hopping on them!” We gave him the chicken pieces and the dhaba’s staff graciously put out some more food and water in two bowls. We discovered that even the dhaba’s staff was taken in by the dog’s spirit; they made arrangements to feed him whenever he returned to the lot from his daily wanderings.

In the car while we were coming back, my friend turned to me and said,” That is one brave dog. Let’s call him Jake.” I glanced at him quizzically for a moment, then understood and smiled.

[It is in James Cameron’s ‘Avatar’ where we see the first ‘Jake’ (Jake Sully) who though paraplegic finds the strength to fight for a people and prevail.” You may be out, but you never lose the attitude.”]

They call him ‘Tension’

He is a pooch; they call him ‘Tension’. Yup, that is his moniker! When someone asked why he has been named so, the mistress simply replied, “Cos that’s what his activities amount to.” Tension lives with a retired couple in an apartment and contrary to all the remonstrations and mock-irritations which his masters conjure up in front of friends and family, the truth is that Tension is actually a beloved member of the household. Tension is a milky-white coated male German Spitz who was introduced into the house as a companion to the couple after their only son went abroad for a job. Brought up with such love and indulgence, Tension has evolved his own personality which is almost akin to a coddled offspring.

 

Just sample this – Tension has to be (yes, absolutely has to be) taken out for a refreshing ride in the car around evening even if it is a short circuitous trip around the neighbourhood, if he is expected to eat a hassles-free dinner. If his masters are to be believed, Tension seems to be have the entire plethora of human tantrums under his canine command. Tension sulks, curls his lips up when he is displeased, and even turns his perfect muzzle up in an exaggerated gesture (it is alleged!!) of completely affronted dignity.

What do you ask, actually turns Tension blue? Any one among a complex myriad of quirky, lovable idiosyncrasies. For instance, evening time is reserved telly time for Tension. His master commented with perfect seriousness, “Our Tension only likes to watch ‘Colours’ channel. When someone switches to another channel, he gets incensed.” The joke I am sure, must be on his hapless human masters cos dogs are as I know, hopelessly colour-blind and here, we have a pooch dedicating his profound intellect to a channel called ‘Colours’!

Another peculiarity involves dressing up when Tension is taken out for walk; evidently the pooch wants his human entourage turned out in prim and proper fashion and that means ‘NO SHORTS, NO PJs’. Additionally, the poor master who is saddled with taking Tension out for these daily ceremonial excursions into the outside world has to step out in style - in running shoes - if he is to escort the royal train. Anything frivolous (that means light sandals/ baggy pants/ track pants/ etc etc) and Tension refuses to go out.

The list of Tension’s idiosyncrasies runs on – he likes his bed fluffy and room cooled prior to turning in, he partakes daily of a single rasgolla (East Indian sweetmeat of dough, milk, sugar syrup) for digestive purposes, rides in the elevator up or down alone with his master and no one else is admitted inside. He likes adults but detests kids (I suspect that he doesn’t like the prospect of the spotlight turning away from him to some cute, drooly babe). Any time someone commits a transgression of Tension’s inviolable laws of life, he becomes a royal pain in the you-know-where – howling away, refusing to be stroked or approached in any way, ultimately subjecting himself to the sweet luxury of being mollified only when an appropriate length of time as determined by him, has elapsed.

Tension has it good. I wouldn’t mind trading places with him sometimes. What do you think?

“Only the gentle are ever really strong….”

My friend Kaushik has a natural affinity towards animals, the physical manifestation of which can be unnerving at times. He knows almost no dread or obscure sense of ‘human’ regard for his appearance or the animal’s. I remember how I used to be put off by his easy attempts to pet stray dogs. I suppose I was more concerned about how the paws of such mangy mongrels might ruin my outfit, or leave stains upon my person. Kaushik’s love for animals however transcends such petty boundaries which we build around ‘expected behaviour’.

One recent incident further reflects this kindred feeling that Kaushik feels towards animals. He was recently driving his car along a highway with his mother. They were going to a family function outside the city. From a distance, he saw a crumpled heap ahead, of something which was obviously a road-kill.

He stopped the car and proceeded to get out of the car. His mother asked,” What do you think you’re doing?” Kaushik replied,” I’m going to see if I can help the animal.”

“Are you crazy? If you do that, the nearby people may think that you’ve hit the animal.”

“That may be so, but I’ve got to see to the animal.” Kaushik said as he stepped out.

The animal was in the middle of the road, and it took some time to get to it. It was a busy highway and cars and trucks were zipping by, a couple narrowly missing the stricken animal. With no apparent concern for his own safety, he stooped near the animal, saw that it was a goat kid and that it was beyond help. He picked up the bloodied mess, walked over to the roadside and laid it down gently. By that time, the kid was dead and a motley group of people had gathered around.

These people were all the while, watching the entire spectacle from a few shops by the roadside. One of them spoke up,” Well now, this kid has died and the owner has to get compensation. How much will you give?”

My friend blew his top cos he had seen these people mutely watching how the kid was suffering with no thought of perhaps, helping it or if nothing else, picking it up and moving it off the road so that it does not get bloodied any further by passing vehicles. He put up a spirited argument with the assembled throng, giving them such an earful about simple human concern and a sense of civility that shame-faced, a few gave their apologies and shuffled away. This is very amazing cos if you knew my friend, you’d know that he’s such a gentle soul that I’ve only seen him raising his voice, indeed getting into a confrontation maybe only 3 times in the 20-odd years that I’ve known him.

Kaushik told me later,” If there was any chance of saving that kid, I’d have driven him till I could get him help elsewhere” - which is just the truth cos again if you knew my friend, you’d know that he’d have done exactly that.

I know for a certainty that if it was I who was driving on that highway on that day, I’d just have sidestepped over the stricken kid and driven away. Oh sure, I’d have felt bad for a little time but I’d have recovered from the sad episode telling myself,” Ah Roon, but what could you’ve done? The animal must have already been dead.” This is why in the face of such rampant weakness and apathy, the strength and piety of one who thinks and acts differently is commendable and worthy of emulation.

[It was the Hollywood legend James Dean, himself an incandescent flame that burned all too briefly who said ‘Only the gentle are ever really strong’.]

A Short Tale of Love & Devotion

Real-life pics of Hachiko

A man brings in a two-month old puppy. Showered with love and care, the puppy grows – and the bond between man and dog develops. Each morning the man leaves for the city to work; the dog accompanies his master to the local railway station every morning to see him off and then again, comes in the evening when the master returns, welcoming his master by the station turnstile and walking home alongwith him. The familiar sight of the man and his dog setting out for the station in the morning and returning home together at night, warms people’s hearts. One day the man suffers a stroke at work and dies; the dog dutifully waits for him by the station at 4 o’ clock in the evening. And does so for the next 9 years and 10 months till it breathes its last on the streets.

The story of ‘Hachiko – the Akita’ is a magnificent tale of the boundless love and loyalty that exists, inspiring books and 2 movies. Hachiko’s story inspired a nation through the turmoil and vicissitudes of a war. For how much time did man and dog actually live together, I hear you say? 18 months.

Wiki's Stub on Hachiko

Short piece on the real-life Hachiko

About the Common House Lizard & how it brings out the worst in little boys

The house lizard in my younger days was a ready source of amusement and convenient prop for naughty tricks. Lizards were always to be found in plenty in all the houses we have lived in till now. The earliest instance of a predator stalking its prey that I have seen must have been the lizard sneaking up on its prey (bugs, flies, moths, etc.) with all the finesse and stealth of a natural little hunter. As I remember though, the lizard was seen as something of a pest in our society. This must have something to do with its ‘detachable’ tail falling down upon unsuspecting people and people’s food, and sometimes even the whole lizard spiraling down onto least-prepared human presence. To top it, the lizard was also viewed with suspicion – it was rumoured that killing a lizard would bring bad luck, and of course, we all shared in the uneasy though misplaced idea that a lizard coming into contact with your food would poison it.

So all in all, the lizard was fair game for me and my friends when we were little. To be sure we could not kill it but we could conjure up all sorts of devilish mischief designed to leave it half, but not fully dead. The simplest trick was this.

Step 1: Get hold of a broom with a long handle, and search out the house walls for prime lizzy specimens. Note: Lizards are found in plenty under tube lights and bulb holders where they wait patiently for the moths to show up for the ‘grand illumination’.

Step 2: After target acquisition, creep up on the lizzies with your broom and give that section of the wall a god ol’ sweep.

Step 3: “All fall down” and now the lizzies are at your mercy. Take hold of a tong (I used my mother’s old forceps) to pin down the lizard’s tail. Watch the lizard squirm and struggle, until it sheds its tail to flee.

Step 4: Long after the lizard’s gone, watch the still-squirming tail with fascination as it writhes in its own dance of detachment. (Taking the tail to show to your mother at this point, may not be the best way of attracting parental approval, as I found out painfully on one occasion).

An older cousin brother had his own novel idea for tormenting the lizard. He used a long stick, applied the top end with some lime (calcium hydroxide which is a white chemical used in preparing 'paan'), and raise it up to the wall where lizards would be seen. He did not have to wait long before an unsuspecting lizard crept close to the white end and thinking it to be a moth/ bug, tried to bite it. Lime can cause skin irritation and skin burning and the poor lizard after his attempt, would writhe in agony from the burn, fall down on the ground or just plain disappear from the scene as fast as it could run. We never did find out if the lizard would die from such a nasty trick.

Another fav trick was collecting lizard’s eggs (tiny white round replicas). Lizard laid eggs in plenty, and we would gather up the pretty, fragile-looking things with their soft shells and hide them away. Again after placing them in a hidden spot only to forget about them in the burst of other childish activities, we never did find out if the eggs ever hatched.

In our present house, lizards are rare and we hardly hear the loud ‘tik-tik’ as the lizards call out to each other in the night. Perhaps too many lizards have already provided game for mischievous, unmindful boys like my younger self. As I recollect my own pranks I feel sad somehow that I could not or did not care about nor understand how I was hurting a small creature. 

With eyes closed

It was just the day before i.e., 12^th July around 1 in the afternoon that my friend Kaushik (also read about him here), calls me and says that I have got to go somewhere with him. I ask, ‘Where?’ and he tells me this.

Tiny & Kaushik

Earlier in the day, post-breakfast, Kaushik hears the piteous meows of a cat outside the house and so, moving out to the verandah, sees a tiny kitten huddled out in the lane in front. Mixed with the kitty’s cries are the loud caws of a few crows. Kaushik sees the crows swooping down on the kitty and trying to peck it; the mother was nowhere to be seen. My friend goes out and retrieves the defenceless kitty and brings it home. The kitty was so tiny, almost like a mouse, with a mottled brown coat and shivering and crying continuously. It was so small – its eyes had not even opened and it could not have been more than 3 days old. Everything about this kitty was tiny; the legs, the tail, its ears and it could not even open its tiny mouth properly. Kaushik tried putting it in front of a saucer of milk but it could not feed itself.

Just over a couple of months earlier, Kaushik and his mom had taken care of a litter of abandoned stray kittens for a short period. The kitties were older and had been able to feed themselves with the food and water offered to them in plates and saucers. So Kaushik thought that handing over to an animal shelter where they would have better facilities for raising young animals, was a good idea. He searched online and found the details of 2 shelters operating in the city. He called the first number but it was of no use; the person on the phone stated that they looked only after dogs. He called up ‘People For Animals’ next and they said that they could help out if the kitty could be brought to their shelter. Kaushik noted down the address and then he called me.

It was pouring outside and another couple of hours later, we set out for the shelter. The first time I saw the kitty, I am amazed. I had never seen such a tiny kitten before. I pick it up gingerly; over its eyes are 2 small patches of pinkness, it feels almost weightless in my palm. Another hour later and we were there. The people at the shelter took the kitty, saying that it would have to be fed through a bottle, wrapped it in rags and put it inside a small empty carton.

It was then that I glanced around the place. PFA maintains this animal shelter through the donations and services of benevolent animal lovers and concerned citizens, and like-minded organisations. The facility is a shelter for abandoned, injured and rescued animals. It is a largish plot with a single-storey building in the middle, with a couple of shed attached at the back, possibly for storing feed. Just beside the entrance gate, there are a few pens, and one rickety structure which looks like a coop. A couple of covered cow-sheds with the ubiquitous feeding troughs in the middle completed the picture. The shelter was a regular menagerie and moving around, I told myself that this is what Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’ would have looked like. 

Animal Farm

A few indolent dogs were stretched on the cool floor of the shelter and catching their forty winks in the manner that only dogs can pull off. 5 – 6 kittens were playing around, scurrying around corners, very inquisitive about our presence, rubbing themselves against us. One huge sheep was surveying us with the air of a very wary proprietor, attempting to size us up. This inquisition was not in the least, affected by his constant attempts to get at some old newspapers lying on a shelf and convert them into lunch. The other animals tied up or kept in enclosures were on the whole, lot less enthusiastic about goings-on.

There was a kitten much like the one that we had brought along except that it was older and therefore larger, and with a large discoloured and obviously recovering wound just above its right eye. One of the keepers picked up the kitty and showed us the marks left by 28 stitches on its belly, when it was hit by a vehicle on the road. We also saw a purebred puppy alone and shivering inside its cage. It was very small (maybe a month old) and its hair was coming off its skin and all the time that we were there, it was closely curled up in the foetal position. We were told that it was suffering from a nervous illness and could not move about without falling over; all its motor skills were affected. Its owner had probably decided that he had no use for such a puppy, and left it at the shelter.

The one which does not leave my mind was a very old dog with wrinkly brown skin, and very sad, liquid eyes. On closer inspection, we found that it was suffering from cataract in both eyes. When it walked, its side swayed and it moved very laboriously; nevertheless it came near me. I wanted to pet it but something about its appearance put me off. Its face had such a human emotion when it was looking at us that it unsettled me. Much later as we were coming back in the car, I realized what that emotion was. That look on the old dog’s face was that of resignation, and this epiphany was the saddest moment of my day.

I feel it deeply now that every once in a while, we should close in our senses and let the heart take over. All of life’s actions cannot be and should not be taken with eyes wide open.

(You can know more about People For Animals here . )

As strong as a dove.

This post is a new beginning in many ways; so here goes.

It was no accident that one-third of the ancient world lived and died under the gaze of the eagle-headed vexillum of the Roman empire. It was only natural that the conquering Romans chose to embark upon their expeditions with their eagle emblem in tow because then as is now, the bird is an enduring symbol of power, grace and resolute determination to rule the skies. Lions, tigers, crocodiles, elephants et al even the humble bovine have found their way onto family crests, national emblems, decorative tapestries and even into scrawly drawings that small children choose to embellish their books with.

This fascination with adorning collective insignia and even personal possessions with the images of animals stems from the fact that they seem to represent certain ideals that we aspire to. It is perhaps important that when it comes to aspiring, we should observe and learn from both the predator as well as the hunted, from the eagle as well as the dove.

This is a short tale of a dove which started one wintry evening when my friend Kaushik, on returning from work was informed by his mother that an injured dove had been rescued by is father. It was raining outside and this bird had sought shelter under their car where it was seen and brought inside. On inspection, the dove was found to have a broken wing and bleeding from a few bruises. It looked like it had been attacked. Kaushik warmed the wet bird by a fire, applied some lotion which his doctor father provided, and kept it in their store room. All the while, the dove lay unmoving.

Kaushik tells me now, “I thought then that the bird would not live cos it was so still and if it was not an adult, it would find it very difficult to survive that evening’s ordeal.” The next morning when it was provided with broken rice and water, it started pecking at the grain. This showed that the dove was indeed an adult bird cos otherwise, it would have had a hard time tackling the (comparatively) big grains. The next 3 days, the dove contentedly partook of the grain and water. Everyday Kaushik would apply lotion to its broken wing twice – once before leaving for work and then again, after he returned. This whole time though, the dove would stay put at one place and not shift its roosting place inside the store.

On the 4th day, when Kaushik went to inspect the dove in the evening, he found a broken egg beside it. The dove was evidently a female, and been roosting in that one spot cos its egg was about to hatch, and now that new life inside her was gone.

On the 5th day, when Kaushik came home in the evening, his mother told him that another dove had stationed itself just outside the store room by the window sill and been cooing for quite a while. When he went inside the store, he saw the dove fluttering its wings and trying unsuccessfully to take flight. It had recovered sufficiently to leap and tap the windows with its body.

For the next 2 days, the other dove which was obviously the mate, kept on coming outside the window in the mornings and take up its cooing. The one inside cooed back. During this time, the female dove inside had regained its strength and was flying erratically round and round inside the store, leaping onto the windows and ventilators but there was no way out.

Finally on the 7th day since they had rescued the dove, Kaushik decided to let the dove take its chances. Early morning, the male dove had taken up its customary position outside and Kaushik held the female and took it up to their terrace. The male on seeing his mate, immediately flew up to the terrace of their neighbour’s house. My friend wanted to release the dove in the presence of its mate believing the sight of him would enthuse it to push its newly-healed body further and fly.

He placed the dove on the terrace and moved away. Seeing this, the male came onto the very edge of the neighbour’s terrace and then 2 things happened very quickly. The male flew directly overhead and the female took off in its mate’s wake. Together they flew away to another nearby terrace, stood there for sometime looking in my friend’s direction. Then the pair took flight together and left.

My friend tells me, “When that pair flew, my heart spouted wings alongside – I felt so happy and blessed.”

All it took was 1 man, 7 days and 2 doves. Devotion, resilience, attachment – they mean broader things to my friend and me now.