Skip to main content

Enter The Devil

I have a new family member these days and I am showering all my maternal affection on him. I was never really a baby person or a pet person simply because I always felt that assuming hundred per cent responsibility for someone is too much of a sacrifice and that you have to be ready for it. But I have proved myself wrong. You don't need to assume responsibility. If you have the inclination, you have the time.

And so it was a chance meeting with Dylan (as in Die-Lan and not a mispronounced Bob Dylan mind you) while shopping with my five-year-old nephew, Mihir, that sealed his fate. And with a persistent young man who refused to leave the market without the puny week-old pup, I ended up buying Dylan. But when it was time for Mihir to leave Delhi, I realised I could no longer part with Dylan. After convincing Mihir that I would send Dylan to Shillong after a while, Dylan is now mine just for the asking. Looking back on that day, it's luck that we found him and even greater luck that he will stay here with me, for now at least.

It's a fuzzy feeling, and a little obssessive. I keep thinking about him at the workplace, at the market, everywhere. I wonder if he is lonely in the house, if he has hurt himself or whether I locked the house properly. I worry if he is warm enough. I can't wait to get home and feed him and play with him. I walk into a store and look at all the possible flavours of Cerelac and ask the shopkeeper to show me all of it.. and when he asks me how old my kid is, I say "well..er.. my dog is three-weeks old..," and I want the best for him. Good start, quips my sister.

It's not a difficult affair really. Except for the fact that he pees a little too often and I am often in my mopping gear, Dylan is so manageable. By the way, I just found out they also have pup diapers in the market these days. A cynic friend in the office says it is ludicrous how big the pet food industry is when hundreds of people are starving elsewhere. True. Well, to each his own. Besides you can't make a Mother Teresa out of everyone. OK, I think I am digressing.

I am just happy to have Dylan right now. He is playful, he is wicked and has a canny note for emotional detail. It is funny how he whines not when he is hungry but when he wants to be cuddled, especially when he hears the sound of the aeroplane flying overhead, or when he realises I haven't spoken to him in a while. We also have our normal conversations and he responds to things like 'NO' with promptness. I never percieved this before but I am amazed at how animals bond so naturally with humans when they live under one roof. It's not hard work at all or so much of a sacrifice after all. It's a labour of love.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Mad Man Or A Boor

What does one do when one encounters a mad dog? Or what does one do when one encounters a man with pre-fixed notions about everything in life, most specifically of women who live alone and give him some importance? The two are equivalent to me and basic intelligence says avoid the paths they tread like plague. But I chose to tackle them head on. I almost got rabbies.

The mad man said [sic] "You sound like a very desperate person. A single and frustrated woman who is looking for anyone to leave a comment on your blog so much so that you wouldn't even spare a spammer." Spammer being, the first comment on the previous post is apparently a spam, an advert for T-shirts. Bummer! I thought it was a handsome Spaniard or Latino, so I had replied "Hi Rodrigo", hoping to take the conversation forward offline. Anyway! All this the mad man found out. I didnt. Sure, I dig comments because I love the spontaneity and intelligence of my friends. And I didn't invite the mad m…

Them Versus Us

Taking off from the Shilpa 'Shitty' issue (I love the surname and that comes from my ever so humorous and intellectual friend Latha or Lotty with love and Angel No. 1 to some :)), here are some reflections on being a north easterner in the capital of the world's largest democracy. Also, Lotty, on a serious note, says I should have a NE angle to what I write. She has a point. I have enough material there, enough to give vent to.

I begin with 'oye Chinky'. When I came to Delhi in the mid 1990s to do a professional course, I wasn't sure what the word meant. Maybe I was too busy paying heed to my new found independence and the certain sense of security -- the fact that I could go to the market even at 10 pm without the peering eyes of the army or the CRPF personnel patrolling the streets and stiffling our existence. It wasn't until my course was over and I got myself a break as a sub editor with the country's premier news agency, that I had my first hand exp…

Glam Gurumaa

Have you ever met a so called godwoman or godman in person? Well I did and I have to talk about this one. On Tuesday night, I got a call asking if I would like to come and meet Anandmurti Gurumaa. My knowledge about ‘spiritual people’ as they would like to call themselves is zero because I have never taken interest in their ilk and India being full of conmen in the garb of spiritualists you tend to look at them with suspicion. I had a friend who stayed for weeks at a house cramped with people in a shady lane in Delhi and they were all fighting and scrambling for the baba’s attention. The baba would perform pujas during the evenings, make them drink and wash with ashes and they would pour heaps of money buying the essentials. The people went to him for all reasons – to sort marital discords, business failures, illnesses, and even vengeance on enemies! It was frightful. I had gone to meet the friend but after a few hours scooted away more scared I would pick a bug from the unhygienic su…