A wish in vain

The new day is born. The birds are awake and have begun their daily rituals; the soil is blissfully embracing the warmth of the sun while the streams gradually turned colder. The magnificent structure at the center kissed the skies with its roof. The lime yellow sun was reflecting all over this beautiful house. The brown tiled roof spread widely, the roof held itself high with all pride and royalty. The house was worn with age but still had the demeanor of a once acclaimed past. The white color of the wall was degraded with stains and brown dusty patches. The pillars which were plenty in number were all made of wood and seemed to have memories of the many generations of people touching, hugging and leaning over it, they were broad, round and healthy looking. The house had only two colors, two rich colors, brown of wood and white of the wall coat. It was wood everywhere. Deforestation, yes, but the beauty of the house shuts ones mouth.

I have always loved such houses. The huge houses which were built by wealthy people of the olden days using wealthy materials, that held on for generations and centuries together. Those houses had a character of their own, as if they withheld wisdom from their existence that dated back centuries. The period of their existence is long, the era of their life. I can’t even imagine what kind of a world it must have been when the first brick was laid by some young laborer to build the house for his master. The history texts indicate that it was a pleasant world only for the wealthy ones, so that means the ancient period had this one thing in common with the now. The period of its life that interests me is when the generation that happened to live in only had the house, the prestigious family name and lots of poverty. Yeah, the very same theme that most of the cinemas portrayed. After all, the movies, books and photographs are the resources through which I know such houses.

From the very little knowledge that I have of such houses and the people and their lives in it, I have developed this bizarre feeling, a sort of regret for having missed out being a part of it. It might have been nice to live in that period, in those houses, inevitably poor, helpless and systematic. Well, maybe not nice, maybe gruesome but that would have been an incredible experience.

There would be a lot of people, family in the house. Eating, sleeping and living together under the same roof. Of course, quarrels would be there and family politics. Male chauvinism would be at its peak. Children wouldn’t be cuddled and cared for that often, and they would grow up smarter and tougher, self made and truly innocent. Ones daily chores were given most importance and there was a rule in the household and it applied to all. Privacy was absent unless one found a secret spot for oneself. One was closer to nature as the surroundings were free for trees to grow. People were bothered by nature’s games as they all depended on nature for their livelihood. Farming was the occupation and soil was part of family. There was no TV and there was time and space to spare for life, for games, for conversations, for laughter, for quarrels, for nature, for rain, for cattle. People had to read to know about world, and their minds worked sharper and their power for imagination was commendable. News travelled around by mouth and people were innocent enough to speak forever about others. Boys defined freedom while girls always had envy powering them. Grandparents dominated and children worked while grand children were free to live yet eager to seek adulthood. Life was to be lived by a simple rule of waking up with the sun and retreating as the same went down, but all the individual lives had their own individual miseries, notions and vengeance to the world, which were mostly hidden within oneself and if otherwise the one was considered a rebel. Life was free from the invasion of technology and there was compassion between humans and earth.

What kind of a person would I have grown to be in that world? It would be a nice thing to know, with the influence of everything but technology I would have been the one I was supposed to be. As today I am somebody who has been made by internet, movies, cell phones, speed cars, Television, air conditioners and so on and so forth. I prefer the other world, but I am forced to choose this world, and to some extent I am willing to fall prey to it. I have had the taste of the techno world and once that happens one is disqualified for the purer world. I feel sorry for myself and that wish still remains in me, though in vain.

Past is past. I now realize the depth of that phrase, the loss that it signifies.

 

Passion

Since a few days my mind is so full with various random but strong emotions, no, not emotions. It isn’t really emotions; they are things, thoughts about those things, no actually thoughts about just one thing. Like a wish, an ambition, urge. Mind is a funny thing, unpredictable, crazy to the extreme. It doesn’t know what it wants, it wants to be everywhere at the same time. Keeps on jumping over things that doesn’t even stand a chance to be mentioned, and stays there for a long while leaving other important things at bay. When it wants something all it wants is that, all it can think of is that. But once something intervenes between the mind and its want, things change, a shuffle happens and all focus turns towards that thing which intervened. This is the same reason why I hesitate to trust my mind. This sole thought that fills my mind now may over a period of time be pushed back by another intervening thought, even though at this point of time imagining such a thing happen is beyond my capability, because this want that fills my mind now is so strong, so powerfully dissolved within me. I am possessed by it. This is a great thing to feel, passion. Passion drives you like nothing else can. You are happiest and the most satisfied when there is a passion burning inside you, a passion that burns more and more as time passes. When an immortal passion lives within you, your appetite for life is at its peak. That is when you end up loving all tastes of life, be it salty, sweet, and chilly or bitter, you will love it and embrace all of their occurrences. I want this thought that fills me today to stay such forever, and ever and ever. I love this!!

Bliss

The horizon was far and the sun was coming up bright and orange and big. The sun can lift your mood like nothing else; the bright orange beauty spot when in rise is the best sight to wake up to. Thus I was standing there looking at it rising, with awe and admiration for the artist who drew it, the sculptor who created it. The kites were circling over the water while the crabs swirled as the waves swallowed them. I watched them hide in their holes while the brave ones peeped out and the other few vanished under the waters. I walked towards the waters, eager for the touch of the rushing waves, the white moving mountains looked magnificent, beautiful. The wet beach sand printed my footsteps, I was happy to leave the imprints of my feet on that earth sand. I was dismayed at first, but then was glad to see my foot prints being washed away by the tide. There was now a possession of mine with the sea. The sea now had a part of this very little me in it, I felt happy, proud to have been born. The sand was soft yet rough and the inner sole of my feet felt full as I walked down. I touched the wet sand with my palm and waited as if something dramatic and extra ordinary was bound to happen, but then I rose up and laughed off my imagination and walked again to greet the mother sea. A partition had formed on the sand, a dark brown part and a lighter brown part, the wet sand and the dry sand. I stood at the partition and waited for the tide to reach me. I was put off as the waves went back before reaching out to me. The voice in my head told me ‘hey fool, do never expect the mother sea to come and touch your feet, go to her, greet her’, I was startled when that voice spoke, for it was loud and clear. I shook my head and walked to mother and then it happened as she embraced me. I walked further in; I wanted to be with the large white water mountains. I was suddenly close enough to that emerging White Mountain, I was terrified with its size, I prepared myself to face it but before I could realize myself I was engulfed by it. I drank in the salt water and coughing and gasping came out of it. I laughed out loud, the experience was touching. I just had a close encounter with the nature, I loved it. As the next wave came over I acquired the skill to float with it and thus I did, this time instead of drowning me the mountain carried me, lifted me and gently placed me down only for the next wave to repeat the same. Thus I did this over and over until I was exhausted. The sun was asking me to retreat, his heat was unbearable. My face was the only part of me that was out of the water and that only part was on fire with his heat. I retreated off the water and kissed the sea for one last time and walked back, crossed the partition and stepped over to the white part. I placed myself under a lone tree and watched the mountains rise and disappear. It was a beautiful sight, like a dream.     

A Memory...

It has been a long time since I have written something. I had been stuck with exams. Too much of studies can hamper your brain and my brain is still in its recovery period. I have got no subject in my mind right now to write about, but what is the harm in trying? So here I am pressing down the keys on the keyboard that seem inviting and meaningful. But what do I speak about?

 Well now comes something…

 I hope you all know that I am a badminton player, and I was one at 11 too. I got selected into the Kerala schools team for the National School Games that was to be held at Mandya. Then Mandya seemed like a place away from world itself, may be because my world was too small and it had only people and places that I have ever set my eyes upon. My memory of that trip is really funny because it consists of a few weird incidents, weird emotions, strange people, yellow lit room, chilly nights and heavy sweaters, dirty toilets, a plate that I had taken along, as per the team manager’s instructions, to eat food from…

Maybe I can get some more if I dig deeper!

That was the very first time I was travelling without my parents, but with heavy luggage. I still can recall the feel of that annoying sore shoulder I had after carrying my kitbag wherever the team went. I was not a trouble to the team I guess because I don’t remember me crying amme kaananam (want to see my mother!) and all. I can recall nothing of the train journey towards Mandya but the first scene that I remember happens in a yellow lit room.

Somebody asks me to find a place for myself to keep my bags and I do so, I look around the room and see picture charts on the wall (yeah it was a class room). Some were torn and some were yellower than the yellow light bulb. Most of them were vegetables and fruits chart, because I remember me selecting the veggies that I love and hate in each chart, but soon I quit it as all charts gave me the same few options to select from. I then sit on a bench and look at my team mates walking, brushing their hair, talking, laughing, shouting, fighting over a place for their bags and what not. All of them were senior to me I guess because I don’t remember making friends with anybody but adding chechi (elder sister-to show respect) post every one’s names. I remember staring at P C Thulasi (she was the best in the team then and one of the best players of India at present) with awe from the bench that I was perched up on. And there that scene ends…

Here I am folding up my track pants by my waist to reduce its length; I am doing it a lot of times as my mirror image disappoints me after each trial. Then I hear somebody shouting my name and I panic but successfully run to the source of that call and I don’t remember getting scolded in front of everyone for being late so that must have not happened or maybe it has…anyway I report wherever the team was supposed to be reported and I think I was helped with my track pants by one of the chechis. We as a team wearing the same color track-suites (I don’t remember where we went walking, but I remember us walking in two lines wearing the same colored clothes) walked with the coaches and managers leading us. Then I remember a tall and lean sir, our manager I guess, giving a talk about discipline and dignity. I remember it only because in the later years we did make a lot of fun about it…

In the next scene it is night. I am walking with my team, probably the friendly ones, holding the plate that I had mentioned before, by my tummy. The footpath looks clean and even unlike the uneven and dirty ones that I am used to in my home town. That interests me and I place each step in a funny pattern. I might have had my own reasons for walking like that but the lady manager found it too annoying that she pulled me by my collar and asked me to walk beside her. There and then began my battle against the lady managers.

We are at the place where the food is available. It was another school where the boys stayed. The food has not got a place in my memory so that mustn’t have been unbearable. I remember playing a game that needed a lot of running; I had loved playing that but once the current goes off and all the lights goes out leaving the ground dark. The coaches cum managers’ starts whistling with their whistles and we all gather at a corner until the light comes. I remember having a lot of fun being the youngest kid over there…

Then there is another funny/embarrassing incident that happened there. All of us had been sitting on a stage cross legged, well I am not sure how others sat but I was sitting cross-legged. I suppose we sat there listening to that tall and lean sir again, but I have no idea of what he must have been talking about. I remember all of us having oranges together. Then it was orange that I was in love with among the fruits, (now it is grape and a year back it had been apple) knowing that there was a chechi who bought me oranges every time we passed a vendor. All in the team had been really sweet to me and I will forever be grateful to them for that.

My parents had given me a mobile phone for the journey so that they could talk to me whenever and wherever it was. It was one of the very first models of the Nokia series and it was huge for a cell phone. It played a loud and irritating tone when somebody called, I was so not used to having something like that with me, and often I failed to realize the source of all the noise, until somebody told me that it was my phone. Well the incident happened when we all (me cross-legged) sat on the stage eating oranges and listening to/hearing our manager. I was so engrossed into the conversations that were happening around me. Open mouthed. Suddenly something somewhere starts vibrating and a loud noise erupts from that something. I, who was sitting cross-legged jumps up that moment and scream/gasp out loud, it takes me another second to realize that it was just my phone ringing and that there were no intimidating ghosts over my head. Again everyone was really sweet to me by just laughing over it and not letting me feel any level of embarrassments…

These are all that has stayed with me from my very first trip alone (without parents). It is funny as there is nothing I can recall of the matches the Kerala team played or what I used to do when my team was on court battling it out (I obviously stood no chance in helping the team to victory). Somehow this first trip gives me only vague details of it…

School nationals are always special. There happens a lot of bonding, a lot of memories, a lot of friends and a strong intimacy with the train that we travel in. I have been in team for five years and each year presented me with variety of experiences. I have had my best time during these events, and I have learned many things. I have also met the few people that have become very special and important persons in my life during these events. I will have no more school nationals to go for because I am no more a school student. School nationals’ will definitely top my charts of favorite experiences.

Well that was not bad for one who is recovering from her writer’s block!!...   

Well… (Embarrassment)

Well, almost for half an hour I have been staring at this blank page on my laptop. I know that I want to write, that something is knocking at my mind’s door to come out and expose itself, but somehow I feel so helpless as if I have lost the key to let it out. So I decided to simply type. Simply type and listen to the clicking sounds made by the keys that I press down. I love this sound. And now I feel like writing down something, something that I was too shy to tell anyone even though it makes itself impossible to be forgotten.

The incident takes place in a petrol pump where I went to fill in the fuel for my two-wheeler…there was only one pump in working condition and all the customers were clustered around it. Most of them were on bikes and a few in their cars, anyway all of them were men, men in forties and above. I remember so evidently only because all of them stared at me as I too attached myself and my deo (two-wheeler) to that cluster. They were not actually staring, they were accusing me. It did not bother me much as I am pretty used to this accusing glare by senior men for no reason. God knows why men do that!! ATM centers, petrol stations and all other places where the customers are made to wait are the main locations where men accusingly glare at women, girls. Sometimes I find it funny but today I wanted to rip them all in rage.

The station employer was grumbling about working extra time while all others were having their lunch. He was so engrossed into grumbling (more to himself) that he hardly heard what the customers said. Somebody asked the guy for a litre of petrol and the guy shouted at him saying something which made no sense at all. A few angry exchanges of words and it turned physical. The customer started shaking that man by his collar, literally shaking that feeble fellow. Then the others among the cluster involved and created peace. All this took just 5 minutes. The customer was too angry that he walked out of the station with an empty bottle looking for a station where employees were taught how to behave. Who is the loser?

Anyway, I was still the last person attached to the cluster. People from nowhere came and made their way in so easily. When the next guy also did the same I reacted. I asked him to move back. Obviously he didn’t. He totally ignored me. I had no idea of how to win the situation without causing any trouble. Hoping for the best I walked towards him and spoke directly on his face. He told me to stand behind his vehicle so that he can help me out in proceeding my way in. Somebody from the cluster mentioned about me waiting for a long time and that if somebody did not help, I would be waiting there forever. Now they even started teasing me, the accusation was better. I again pressed onto my point by asking that guy to move back. But again he laughed; now looking at the other men. Suddenly it was only me and the grumbling employ who weren’t laughing. I could feel myself boiling inside with all the feelings one would hate to feel. I realized that at any moment my eyes would let go of the tears that I was struggling to hold back. I pinched myself hard to get control over my emotions. I wanted to glare at all the laughing men, but I am sure my face must have looked so pitiable and the glare would have turned to a pitiable plead.  

Then I decided to focus on that one person who now I wanted to move back and managed to glare at him. He must have found me so helpless; nobody would otherwise give in for my glare so easily, anyway he moved back. I was so satisfied with winning that battle. I was so happy that I wanted to slap that person right next to me for no specific reason other than him passing comments continuously about me. The comments were not direct that I couldn’t say anything than glare, but my glares were not getting any notice from those annoying men. I had to wait for some more time before getting some petrol. Meanwhile the standard of the comments and the number of commentators had decreased and increased respectively. They weren’t bothered of what I said or did. They just wanted to entertain each other and see who would create more laughter. I was just a subject they chose. A toy.

The filling of fuel was done, the comments and laughter subsided, I felt like shouting at them something, anything at all before leaving but I did not want to. That would just be another reason for them to laugh their horrid laughter. So I started my deo and soared out to the main road wishing not to see them ever again. Wishing to be invisible wherever these kinds of men were present.

I could have actually showed a little more power there, may be. But what can make those ****head losers to keep their blabbering mouths shut? I do not know.

I really have no clue. They have no limit to what extent they can go immorally.

Being stranded in such helpless situations leaves you disturbed for more than a while, even though you managed to wiggle out of it without letting anyone know. I am sure that the men who caused me so much trouble would have completely forgotten about me, their toy.

I ride all the way home with the sound of their laughter ringing in my ears. I ring the bell at home. My mother presents herself at the door with her most loving smile, and their, that washes of all those horrifying embarrassing fifteen minutes I went through. I am back into that safe heaven called home again. Away from the embarrassments, away from the fights and away from all the feelings one would hate to feel.

The next day I again go out, out into the battle field, returns home, sometimes triumphant, sometimes satisfied, sometimes proud, sometimes happy, sometimes tired, sometimes angry, sometimes disturbed. No matter how I enter home, those few loving faces that greet me home at the end of the day brings back the best in me.

  

Easter

(this purely is a fiction)            
                

 The bus stops, I was awakened by the loud conversations which I later realized as arguments between the conductor and the passengers. The bus was broke down in the middle of nowhere. I was traveling alone to my house after my 3 year’s higher studies in north. I was eager to get my hands on some tasty non-vegetarian food, after my pathetic hostel food system, even thinking about a chicken leg or beef roast made both my eyes and mouth water. Something heavy fell on my head and I jumped out of my reverie. It was a suitcase, a heavy one; it flew out of its owners hand while he was fighting with the conductor. Both the conductor and the owner looked at me as if they had just killed me. The owner gave me several apologies and continued with his fighting which lessened to just a heated argument. It was 12.30 and the sun was doing it’s best to get attention. I wished I was home by now, I craved for some rest. The conductor announced that the mechanic would come any moment and the bus would soar to life once again. Somehow, even after hearing such an assurance I did not feel a bit relieved.

I hopped out of the bus for letting the road side shop wala treat me with butter milk. The cool liquid refreshed my whole body, as I was waiting for the second glass I noticed a dog, a puppy there. It was trying it’s best to grab one of those tins of biscuits. It was continuously jumping on its hind legs. Each time it landed on the ground I saw its rib bones protruding with thin layer of fur covering it. I bought a biscuit and the puppy with eager hungry eyes looked at me in a way that would make even the Hitler cry. Tears swelled in my eyes as I watched it eating. The shop-keeper stormed out and mimicked a kick at the puppy and it ran afraid. But fear is tolerable when compared to hunger right; it came again, looked at me with its tail wagging in a very high frequency. The man in the shop asked me not to encourage it. He had extreme disgust in his face and voice when he spoke. I did not drink the second glass of butter milk and walked to the bus. The puppy ran towards me and I felt miserable for being a helpless idiot.

I have never had a pet and I hadn’t had any kind of relationships with any kind of animal. I am against cruelty to animals but I had never done anything that could help them, and in fact I hardly used to spare a thought about them.

I went inside the bus leaving the puppy on the road wagging his tale with utmost innocence and divinity. I closed my eyes for a moment, I wanted to divert my mind from that little thing but all I could visualize in my mind was the puppy, his beautiful white and brown coat, his deep brown innocent eyes. I went to the conductor to enquire about the condition of the bus and he assured me a departure in 10 minutes. I tried a lot not look at the puppy again but I did, I saw it curled up on the road, in the heat, starved and thirsty, craving for some love. He was hardly a month old. ‘Poor thing’ I said out loud and the lady next to me followed my gaze and saw where I was looking, “one more starving creature, it will die soon or somebody would kill it and we are helpless”. Not even a second I had to think about what she had said and the bus was ready to leave. Everyone were relieved and clapped their hands, I did not take my eyes of the puppy and it mine. I ran to the driver and asked him to spare me a minute, all I could hear were my co-passengers shouting, I heard almost all the Indian languages in it. The driver scolded me and I begged to him, he finally put the engine off when I almost strangled him. I ran out of the bus, bought a packet of biscuit and grabbed the puppy. ‘Wow it felt so warm, so happy, and so full of life”

I wouldn’t have been looking at this beautiful creature sleep on my laps if at all that merciful passenger had argued for me, to let an animal into the bus.

“What kind of a person are you? It is just a tiny thing, have a little humanitarian concern” he had said and the driver who had a bored expression from the moment I saw him, ordered me to get in and the bus was moving.

So you did it, huh, the lady next to me stated with a satisfied smile.

As I looked into those brown puppy eyes something fluttered in my heart, for the first time in my entire life I felt as if I was the best person on earth.

I learned that my seat mate’s name was Ramya and she was a teacher, she had two children who were abroad and she had been visiting her mother who stayed at Cochin. I had to give her my whole bio data. She just kept on asking questions in a flow and I just kept on answering her with my eyes on the puppy. “Ann Mary…no, I am 21…haha…..yeah….no we live in Kerala, cochin….MBA…maybe...hopefully…haha…thank you, thanks a lot….”smiles. I found out that that my rescuer was looking at me and I flashed him a smile and mimicked thanks. He smiled back at me.

As I reached my city I waved at all my co-passengers and thanked my conductor, ramya gave me a thumps-up and told her that I would surely call her once. After 5 declines of my requests to auto-rickshaw drivers, the 6^th guy let us in. it was tough, handling both my luggage and the puppy, but I somehow did it all.

My mom greeted us with absolute delight. She was somehow pleased with what I did; I never expected such a reaction from her. Grandma disapproved initially but gave in very quickly.

My father passed away when I was 6. He suffered blood cancer. I hardly remember any time I have spent with him, I remember his face only because of the albums. I have had a very quite childhood, school was the only place where I socialized. Days passed in a routine, luckily after my degree I was gone to another place, earned some exposure. I was ignorant of the world outside my locality until I joined the college in Mumbai. I hardly read newspapers, I hardly showed any interests in sports and I hardly did something out of normal.

The three years in north has changed me entirely into a new person. The first few days there were a little terrifying for me. Every night I talk to my mom and grandma, and I sob under my blanket before I sleep. I found others too matured to mingle with. I felt like a kid. I felt like an idiot. It was the exams that helped me break through the shell. I was the third topper in the first semester and people started noticing me. Gradually I was in love with the life there. The whole community was my friends.

  

The naming ceremony was real fun. We all gathered in the porch, my friend and neighbor Shreya had also come to be friends with the new member of our family. The names that had been suggested were all extremely stupid. I was getting irritated with all the half hearted participation of my family. Finally it was my grandma who decided to name him Easter. I found the name a little weird for a dog but Easter loved the name Easter and that was it.

The first 15 days of him being home and training him to reveal himself in a specific area was hectic, no when I think about it now, I adore those moments. Those moments were the doorway for a whole new world to me. The world I loved to be in. The world where I found my true self.

Easter was a big foodie and he loved milk. The person who managed the kitchen had to stay locked up because the scent that came flared up Easter’s nostrils which lead him to be a manic. Easter became the whole topic of our conversations, at least my part in the conversations. No home training had been given to him; he was a perfect dog, if only pulling the curtains, mattress, barking at guests, biting the furniture were saved.

We had a special link, me and Easter. He read my mind all through and I read him right back. He grew up really fast. Within 8 months he was the size of an adult dog. He was magnificent to look at. His brown and white coat was amazingly shiny. He was muscular, he was too beautiful.

Within a year we moved into a bigger house that I bought. My salary was pretty huge, something I had been proud and relieved of. Easter loved the lawn their. His playing area was huge. Our lives were at its best.

One morning, in spite of Easter the guard being there, a stray gave birth in our outhouse. We did not enter the outhouse for the rest of the week. One fine moment, when I saw Easter come out of the outhouse the secret was revealed, he was the father. I still remember grandma scolding him a lot. The new born were pretty much the combination of both the parents. Two of them had a black and white combination while the two females were pure black. The odd one and the prettiest with the deep brown shade did not make it to the second week. That was a hell of a moment, burying the puppy in our backyard. The mother did not stay in our compound even though the space had been provided. Five dogs were a big number to handle. Each of them competed with each other in the case of food consumption. Easter showed no fatherly affection towards them, in fact they even had a minor quarrel once. I enquired for people who wished to have dogs but most of them turned down the offer when they were told that the puppies were cross breads and from a stray. One day two boys came to enquire about the notice I had stuck in the lane saying puppies for sale. We finally fixed the deal and I sold the puppy for 2000 bucks. After a few days I visited those boys to see how the puppy was doing. To my horror I saw that the owners had left the house leaving the dog inside a cage which was twice smaller than the size of the dog. Rage gripped me; I brought the dog back home without any notice or consideration. Within a week the dog was brought back to health.

Every night I used to work on my projects and Easter would be there by my feet. One night as usual I was working and the others had retired for the day. Easter was acting a little restless that night. I tried a lot to calm him down but he wouldn’t let me. Finally I decided to quit working and play fetch with him. He fetched a couple of times and then he barked at me. For the very first time he barked at me. I was deeply worried by that but then I realized that he was warning me something. He ran downstairs and barked at the door where mom and grandma slept. I followed him suddenly fear knocking my heart. This was the second time this warning thing was happening. The previous time it was about the gas stove that was forgotten to put off. I ran to the door and opened it, I woke mom up and told the issue and she assured me that nothing was wrong. Easter sniffed the whole room for a while then came out and looked at me for a moment. I got no idea of what this was all about.

I went upstairs leaving Easter lying in front of that door. I was a little puzzled of Easter’s behavior, something worried me. Later I found him pulling me by my arm; I had fallen asleep on my desk. When I didn’t respond he barked at me again. This time I felt an eagerness for something in his bark. I got up and followed him downstairs again. I found this all a bit irritating this time. I opened the door and found both of them sleeping peacefully, but Easter ran towards grandma before I realized anything.

We left Easter at home and the other dogs outside in the kennel and drove to the nearest hospital. Grandma was taken to the ICU. Mom was weeping hysterically. I was tensed and felt a little numb. This was the first time I dealt any hospital issue. More than anything I just wanted to see grandma. I felt a throbbing ache in my heart. Mom refused my request to let me stay alone in the hospital.

After a while in the doctor’s room, Dr. Eric Antony, told us that grandma had survived a heart attack. The next day she was moved to a room and all we spoke about was Easter.

Eric the doc was a young man and handsome. I had spoken to him a few times. First we spoke about grandma and only her. Gradually it shifted to the worldly affairs. When grandma was discharged the third day, he asked me to meet him in his cabin. “Would you reject me if I turned up in your house the next week with my parents?” he asked in his husky voice with that crooked smile of his. “I might” I said suddenly embarrassed.

Meanwhile I happened to adopt a dog that was sick as the owners asked me if I would take over it. By then I was known for the number of dogs I had, at least in my neighborhood. It was named BigB and he was a Great Dane. He was my first high bred dog. I had developed my knowledge about animals by referring books and talking to vets before I took the decision of establishing a Home for animals. I had developed a new sense of affection to the four legged. I spared a lot of thought about them. I realized by time that Easter was one among those lucky ones that got a good life and there were unimaginable numbers who were suffering on the streets and left abandoned.

Eric did what he said, the next week. Both our families agreed for our wedding. I could not believe that I was engaged until our year long dating and getting to know each other process ended. I had spoken to him about the Home I wanted build up for animals and he was completely in love with the idea. He was a busy and well known doctor, he had warned me of his being absent in the daily procedures of the firm and I assured him that I would do it all. We were irrevocably in love with each other.

By the time I was a half year old wife I had pretty much managed to act that way too. My life hadn’t changed much except for the fact that I had to be more responsible. I was a happily newly wed woman by all means.

Easter totally accepted Eric even though he hardly obeyed him. Eric was his play mate. The numbers of dogs in the kennels were 8 by now. It was difficult for Easter to move around when they were let free. They all envied Easter for his masterly behavior. Once Easter was cornered by the 8 of them, but before I could do something one of them bit him by his neck and he yelped in pain. I still remember the sound he had made. It took him 4 weeks of medication to completely get rid of the wound. The vet assured me that he was in good shape for a 5 year old.

I was convinced enough that the orphan dogs had to be somewhere far from Easter that I desperately searched for a good land. My dream was to have a large area with full of greens where I could shelter a large number of animals, whichever they may be. But all of it was impossible in the middle of a city. It was a fact that my job, home and family, and a full fledged welfare center was impossible to manage. I and Eric decided to go for a small area of land and shelter a suitable number of animals for the time being. It took us one long year to get in ease with the big responsibility of having more than 50 animals that found a relief in us. Maximum of 6 came in a week while 1 was being adopted each week. I and Eric could manage to keep 5 staffs there.

On September 9^th my first baby boy was born. My life changed rapidly, I changed, my outlook to the world changed, but it all changed for the best. We named him Ron.

Ron and Easter were inseparable. Sometimes it seemed as if they were engaged in serious discussions and otherwise they played, played and played. Ron was two; Easter was 8 when I gave birth the second time, a girl. The princess of my life. She was Meghann. Easter took care of the kids more than me. He would watch over them and inform me at once if something were going wrong. It seemed as if I and Easter had an untold understanding of how things worked. Meghann slept peacefully if she had Easter by her side. I still do not know what I would have done if Easter took it all in a different way. Instead of making it all difficult for me with two kids with a dog, he made my young mother hood a very sweet and adoring memory. A new respect formed in my mind for Easter. I regarded Easter as my equal. Many times I forgot the fact that he was a dog.

Grandma bid good bye when Meg was 2 months old. It was a good thing that she was not made to suffer a lot. Easter acted as if he understood everything that was said at the funeral though he lay beside her bed for a whole week.

Easter was growing slow. He took only milk and detested rice completely. I spent all my time at home with him. I sat beside him at night until I dozed off and Eric had to guide me to bed. Every morning I pray hard before I look at Easter. I was too afraid that Easter would leave me soon. His becoming old was killing me from inside. I could not digest the fact. ‘It is not fair’ I would say to myself. Most of the time he slept or he just lied down letting the kids play with his fur. He never opened his mouth for breathing and hence had become very silent and idle.

I walk into the house one morning from the shelter to see mom cooking, Ron and Meg playing with the building set and Easter lying beside them with his tongue sticking out. He did not come and greet me instead he lied there with the tip of his tail wagging. Fear crept over me. I knelt beside him and looked into those painful eyes and for once I realized that the dreadful time was not far away. I lay there hugging him, mom called the vet and Ron started crying while Meg was being taken by their grandma. I hid my face into his warm bosom and felt the beating heart. I didn’t want to let him go while the vet examined. I was afraid that he would just slip away to somewhere else leaving me behind. The vet confirmed my fear. Easter was dying inside. I telephoned Eric home.

I lay be side brushing him while all others surrounded us. He did not drink a drop of water offered to him. The clock struck 12. I had been weeping for more than two hours. Easter was suffering with pain be side me. It just happened within fraction of a second. Easter bit his tongue and his eyes bulged out and it went blank. My favorite eyes in the world went expressionless. I screamed before Eric consoling me. It felt as if my world spilt beneath my feet. I felt numb. I did not drop a tear for I was completely empty of them.

Easter was buried in our back yard, my Easter. My companion for beautiful long 9 years was gone. I could not see those beautiful eyes anymore. I could not feel that warm soft mane. I could not feel his loving licks or those naughty barks. I couldn’t be with him anymore. He was gone. Easter, the unexpected visitor that became the most important being in my life was gone. Easter was gone leaving a hole in my heart. He came into my life in the brightest hour of sun and slipped away from me and the world in the exact same hour, 9 years later.

Two weeks I lived with the painful memories of him wherever I went and then I got the will to move on. Move on and accept the fact. The next day I took my kids to the shelter and we returned home with a baby stray on Ron’s laps. There was the beginning of another beautiful journey, but this time the small difference was that, Ron and the lady Sony were the soul mates.

I park the car under the tallest tree in my 75 hectares of land that is home for 4782 animals including dogs, cats and cattle. I close my eyes and thank that puppy I met 20 years back for presenting me this life.

Animals are no slave to humans. They have their own concepts, beliefs and mind. They know the earth; they cherish the earth the way god meant her to be cherished. There is no just in tormenting those pure living beings for the thinking man’s happiness. The man’s world will never realize it because there they live each day to tick off there lists of wants, and their wants gets accomplished no matter who or what bothers them as they have the capacity to calculate life, where as the innocent voice less only knows what is real.

If a man chooses to save the ones that suffer right in front of their eyes at least, the world can be made a better place. Abandoning your pets are as cruel as selling your children. Do not present them with a life if you are prepared to take it back when their fate goes wrong. Remember, no pet is aware of the world outside, you abandon them and they know nothing of survival. They will be loyal to you until they breathe their last. See the love in them, see how godly they are, be a better person.  

Innocent conscience

                                                       Finally a customer decides to take home my carcass, which had been hung up for almost a week. Even though not for once I was praised, when I was alive, healthy and active, my carcass gets a lot of praise. The conscience that exists after being separated from the body is very irritating. You have nothing to keep you entertained. Just gloom over the fact how your flesh is being treated, just gloom over the regret you feel for being born as cattle. Anyway I was totally engaged with glooming.

The man stuffs my body into a freezer. The last time I was stuffed into something was while being transported to the slaughter house from the farm I lived in. Comparing the last time, this situation is much better, at least there is no pain being inflicted upon me. The other few facts that make the body less conscience a useless shit is that it does not know when it is day or night, cannot touch anything, and cannot make anybody realize that something like it exists.

I do not know how long my body was stuck in the freezer, a second, an hour, a day or a year is all the same for me. The man had displayed a lot of items around my flesh. He had decided to play with my body for a while, I realized. The funniest part here I find is that, he handled my carcass with a lot of care. I have never felt such care and attention in my entire life. He focused on my hind legs, it is weird to see you being sliced, scraped, smashed, heated and not feel a thing. His body language told me that he was done with me. After all the craft works he did to me, I looked nothing like myself. Instead of my clear white skin I saw a bloody red slice of my hind cutlet garnished with a lot of leaves and vegetables. I wondered what they were going to do with this thing that they created out of me, and I wondered what it smelled like.

“Here is your steak sir” says the waiter. The client is pleased to see the so called me. I was flabbergasted to see him smile as he smelled the ‘thing’.

As a calf I loved the smell of milk, the green grass, of rain and so on... I got to drink my mother’s milk for a few days before I was shifted to another farm. I have always wanted to be with my mother because she was the only creature that cared for me. I had no luck in that case but I had a lot of luck in the case of food. The farm was big and had vast green lands. I was happy there if not lonely.

The client did not find my flesh as interesting as the smell or the aroma as you say it because he was frowning a little. I waited to hear him complain, I thought once dead all are considered divine, but what divinity in a slaughtered cattle right! “The flesh has no juice in it” is his complaint; I thought for a solution to his problem, may be he should have killed me long before, when I was a lot younger and healthier, as for now only his happiness is what matters, and only his. The thing was no more seen, all of it was inside him.

He gets up to leave, as he walked away I realized my conscience being diverted a little, now I could even sense what that man was doing.

I saw myself again in forms similar to the previous one many more times. Each time the person who had me leaved, a part of my conscience followed him.

Even after being completely vanished from earth, I feel a small tinge of my existence in the form of those people who had me. I realize that I have become a parasite. A parasite that cause them harm and never get caught.     

                  (*My imagination of a slughtered cattle's soul speaking.)