When I cry, it rains words....

A few days back I chanced upon a random quote which kind of stuck on to me…..a part of it went as follows “When I cry, it rains words”….and oh is that true or not…..the past couple of months have been a rather tormenting whirlwind of emotions and alongwith the steady outpouring of tears, this has also resulted in an upheaval of words inside me and it has become a little difficult to let them be holed up within any longer and so  here I am, using my favourite mode of expression, writing…..writing my heart out.

To put the recent past in a nutshell I could say that, one, I learnt some lessons about trusting people, having faith, giving it your all, the really hard way and it has quite literally left a lifelong scar on me…and two, I lost three very dear and near ones and all in a matter of two weeks. Quite simply put if you look at it, but in reality, it has a lot more to it……loads of memories, hurt, pain, loss, grief…the list could probably just go on.

Talking about the first, well I have learnt a lot through the better part of the years that I have survived so far, but I never quite lost faith in the concept of humanity or trust. But this experience kind of shoved the fact down my throat that what you see is not always the truth. There are masks people hide behind all the time, they can fake a lot of things, lie while you keep thinking that all of what you see is genuine because honestly you can’t even fake a greeting to somebody if you don’t honestly feel like it. But turns out, the world is not quite like that. If anything, I have learnt that you can hardly trust anyone apart from the very close circle of people who are truly your own, who stand by you through thick or thin, who keep the promises they make, and who walk with you unconditionally, without using situations as excuses to run away no matter how difficult times may seem to be. The ones who are truly your own fight for you like you are worth all of it. They don’t treat you like dispensable objects that you can do away with the moment your need for that object is over. I learnt that people are constantly looking for opportunities to win, to have fun, to enjoy and for a multitude of other reasons and it doesn’t bother them at all if they had to play with emotions to get what they want. I learnt that you don’t let people get close enough to hurt you and hurt you bad. No one apart from what you call your family deserves to get that close to you, to make a mark that could hurt for life. I am thankful for having a family that I can count on….specially my parents and a life partner, who have always been more than what they are and for being the friend that I have needed during all those rough times.

Well if that wasn’t enough, a few more huge emotional blows were just getting ready to hit hard, harder than I would have ever imagined them to hit. The loss of dear ones can never be easy on anyone for sure, but what probably made it harder this time was the very short time frame during which it all happened as well as the very close seat they held in my life in their own measure.

The first to go was Chotokaku….that’s what he was to me, to the world he was my father’s younger brother. It’s difficult to sum up all that I can say about him, I owe a lot of things I learned, a lot of my first times, a lot of things I developed an interest in and an ocean of memories to him and as a matter of fact I even owe what people know me as, to him, my name – Jasmita. This was probably the first gift he gave me apart from all the others throughout the years, material or abstract. Chotokaku, as I and all in our family who have known him closely, remember him as a person who can be termed as an enthusiast. While in his hey days and also till the dreaded disease hadn’t confined him to bed he was the one who brought in the fun element, be it to family gatherings, a simple lunch or the pandal hopping during the Durga Puja. His was always the best gift I received on all my birthdays. He, without fail, even during his ill health remembered by parent’s wedding anniversary and the customary gift, even if they themselves forgot the day at times. Atleast a yearly day off for the ladies (which included my mum and my aunt) from the daily chore of cooking was Chotokaku’s rule which called for that lunch to the best hotel in Shillong during the Durga Puja. More than my father, it was Chotokaku who made sure we were taken to every trade fair, book fair or any other odd form of entertainment that occasionally visited the small town of Shillong that it was way back then. I owe all the hundreds I scored for handwriting in school to him for it was he who taught me the art of cursive writing. I owe my interest in the ghazals of Ghulam Ali, Jagjit Singh….the first English songs from Lobo, Abba, UB40 that I had heard in my life to him. I owe a lot of my hold on the English language to him, to the interest in solving those weekly crosswords and jumbled up words in the Sunday Telegraph, to all those elocutions, debates and recitals that I participated in at school that were polished and corrected by him. I owe my interest and whatever little I learned of the Guitar and the Keyboard to him. Chotokaku was skilled in playing not only these two instruments but also the Saxophone and the Harmonium.  All of this to even the way I dress the salad I put on the dinner table today, I owe it to him.

A state level chess champion who had won numerous titles at his organization and the state level, Chotokaku had also participated in multiple national level chess championships. Probably this was the only quality I couldn’t imbibe from him and I regret it, always. Today, I carry one of his books on chess and his personal magnetic chessboard that I remember him sitting with for hours together playing games as both himself and the opponent, in the hope that may be one day in this lifetime, although in his absence, I will be able to play a game of chess with myself.

Chotokaku was always the fun – loving person and he brought that into the very mundane things of day to day life. I remember the pictures and my mother telling me stories about how Chotokaku would dress up in her saree just to cheer up my mother and my aunts. Being the only child I was quite the selfish little kid when I was my tiny self. I remember tying up all my toys in one of my mum’s sarees and carrying it around the house lest someone should get their hands on any of them. To teach me a lesson, when I wasn’t around, Chotokaku would tuck in the heavy iron that was used in those days to iron clothes into that bundle. Once I got back, I would try with all my might to pick it up and fail miserably and Chotokaku would be sitting there smiling mischievously J. He had this unique way of petting me and my cousins and even the pets….it was by poking our nose with his thumb, just like pressing a button, while he uttered some impromptu gibberish which was supposed to indicate cute. When bottles in the kitchen needed cleaning, he would put up notes on them when my aunt wasn’t around which said “Amader ke snan korano dorkaar” which means “we need a bath” , or when fruits or vegetables in the basket were left for long he would put up a note saying “Amra poche jachhi, amader kheyaal rakhun” meaning “we are rotting, please take care of us”J.

This was Chotokaku…..he left us with these and an ocean of memories that I could go on writing about and never stop. He left us too soon…..and with him he left a gaping hole that no one can ever fill.

The next to go was Didibhai……Didibhai for me and Grandma for the world. Didibhai was someone I still remember as the frail - looking but strong lady who tirelessly worked throughout the day. She did not have a single grey strand of hair until the day she died. I have to admit, I was pretty scared of her when I was young, she was a tough task master and although I met her only during my winter holidays on alternate years while I was growing up, she made sure I got my dose of her lessons. That I can read and write in Bengali today, is due to her. She taught me and made me promise that I would send her letters in Bengali. Initially, I remember writing to her by spelling the Bengali words in English and she would save those letters and when I visited her next she would tell me, I want the next one written in Bengali, and I did, of course with a little help from mom.

While one half of the world knows me as Jasmita, the other half (which includes primarily my family, my neighbourhood and people who know me since I was a kid) know me by my nickname, Rupshi which is the Bengali word for beautiful – “Rupashi” as it would be pronounced…..this name, I owe it to Didibhai. The strong lady that she was, married off at an early age, which was more or less the norm in those times…I guess she was 14 then, she went on to raise six kids, one of them, being my mother. So, in a way, not only do I owe her my name but also my existence through my mother.

The death of my grandfather hadn’t broken down Didibhai as much as seeing two of her three sons pass away before her did. It was heart breaking to see the tough lady that she had been all her life turn into the weak and frail frame of bones in her final years. Whenever she met me, she would say, I have lived my life, seen more than I was supposed to, now it’s time to go……and she left…..once again leaving us with a swarm of memories.

The last to go was my dear old Tuna…..my boy…the fighter who fought till the end. I understand that many people will not be able to relate to this as an emotional trauma of considerable measure. He was after all an animal, to be specific, a cat….just a pet. But to us, Tuna was family, who was with us for more than a decade. He was never meant to live, he wouldn’t have if my aunt hadn’t picked him up from our neighbour’s house. When he first came, he was a kitten, but way smaller in size than an average kitten of his age. He continued to be of a size smaller than the average for a couple of years to begin with and then suddenly he grew up to be the handsome boy that he was. An adamant, angry young boy who didn’t fancy being carried around or being stroked at the wish of his humans…..he allowed such acts only when he pleased J. Tuna was one cat that could be termed sassy in the true sense of the word, always spick and span and with his own unique attitude. Even a dreaded infection which led to his ears being clipped at an early age couldn’t dampen his fighting spirit and he lived and ruled our hearts till his last breath….till he crossed the rainbow bridge.

The past couple of months have been difficult and it still isn’t an easy sail through the storm……it took away a lot from me and taught me a few lessons as well, the hard way of course.

Three lives gone in a matter of weeks…..leaving behind trails of endless memories and irreplaceable gaps in my life as an individual and our lives as a family.

                                                                 

        

                 RIP Didibhai, Chotokaku and Tuna……sorely and forever missed.

Complete in the company of solitude.....

Off and on I have realized that I am quite the feminist, even if not to a point of extremity, but definitely not to the liking of many. I possibly wasn't so right from the beginning, but time and tide have brought about quite a few changes in me. Probably its nothing unusual.....that's the basic nature of time....to bring about change, for the better or for worse. People who have known me since those early days, might agree to my personal observation that I have changed drastically in many aspects.....from being the soft, docile, reserved and shy person to one who now voices out her opinion loud and clear, sometimes to the displeasure of many around J, one who is very vocal about her standpoint irrespective of what others would feel or think about her based on that.....I guess I have become sort of unapologetic about being ME....now if this is seriously a complete turn over, or just a facade to handle the rough tides in the ocean of life, while deep down I am still the coy one I visibly was at some point of time.....I still don't know!

Coming back to the point of being 'quite the feminist'....given this, I would any day choose to tread a singular path rather than fall back in line with others to simply have the comfort of company. Of course easier said than done....there are still numerous roadblocks every time I decide or wish to take the road less taken....sometimes I make it, while sometimes I am still forced down by pressures of societal norms and emotional harnesses.

For the few (or many) times that I have actually been able to take the off beat course, I have realized a very subtle but extremely basic truth that goes with human existence.....I will not term it as a need, because it is possible to survive sans it, but it still is a very elementary instinct, that being the longing for companionship. 

I realized this through a lot of encounters amongst which, is a small incident that I would like to bring up in this context. Having been known as an animal lover, I had a birthday gift of a lone fish as a pet from one of my friends early this year. Although happy, I was also extremely apprehensive about taking care of this fragile creature as my complete past pet experience lay with pooches and felines. Nevertheless, I tried my best to give him the best of whatever I could gather about his needs. Things went well for quite a few months with occasional bouts of disturbance, but eventually falling back to normal. In all these days that this lone tiny living being was with me, every time I was alone in the house due to professional commitments of my better half, although confined to his area of a few gallons of water....he gave me a sense which said "someone is there"....an unexplained sense of company. However, a few days back when inspite of all the efforts to keep him going, I lost him, the same house and the same situation of staying alone in the house gave me an unpleasant sensation of being totally on my own....ALONE!!

Given a set of circumstances and situations in life, isolation or existence in solitude might appear to be an inevitable and also a nonpareil solution. It takes a mighty and free spirited heart to embrace the decision of solitary existence leaving behind all the shackles that are meant to bind you up with your surroundings of live and inanimate objects. At this juncture of life, being on the wrong side of the thirty mark, and also having become the sort of person who is unapologetic about being herself, I admit that I prefer to be on my own and live life on my own terms and given the choice and the chance I would choose to do so any day. But at the same time, there is this unseen and unknown apprehension,sitting pretty somewhere on my mind, of living a completely solitary life.

Solitude has always been a very captivating idea to me right from my early years. As a teenager, one of my favourite poems had always been 'The Solitary Reaper' by William Wordsworth. I am sure most people would have read this poem at some point in life. The idea of a young woman reaping and singing a sad song to herself alone in a field somehow just caught my attention, never to leave J. I also have a couple of favourite quotes on solitude that go as below -

"Solitude is painful when one is young, but delightful when one is more mature", this one by Albert Einstein and another one by Henry David Thoreau that goes like "I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude"......coming of age in life has enabled me to strongly relate to the idea churned out by these quotes.....somehow making me feel liberated, complete and at peace in the company of SOLITUDE.....a feeling that is so endearing yet unnerving!!!

The Final Destination....

A few days back, as I was going through my daily dose of internet skimming, I chanced upon a very interesting one - liner - "Never take life too seriously, nobody gets out alive anyway".....hell yeah, the ultimate truth of life...DEATH, there's no escaping the clangs of it. But this brings up quite a few thoughts in this peculiarly curious catty mind of mine. 

First, isn't this just the opposite of what we have been told right from our childhood. Study hard, take life seriously, else you will end up having a messed up career and future!!! And hence, we, burdened and alarmed by the very thought of ruining our future, in all honesty, start taking each and every item in the menu of life seriously....may be a competition, an exam to begin with.....a few years later, securing a seat in a renowned educational institution, a job interview, an assignment at work which gets linked up to the obvious prospect of an increment or a promotion.....further on, the choice of a life partner - oh dear, will he/she live upto the standards, will the society and family approve of my choice, what if they don't, safer option - leave it to the others to decide.......then, savings - to ensure a comfortable life for the family, loans, EMIs, kids, their future and the list just goes on......and before we realize we are standing at the gates to bid adieu to this world with death staring us in the face. So, when did we stick to the "don't take life seriously" instruction? Did we actually live or did we just scramble away through life in an attempt to stick to the rulebook, meet other's expectations, putting off what the inner self truly pined for thinking..."Ahh, there's a lot of time for that".

Too late now, its time to step into the other world......say your goodbyes and tag along with "Yamdev - the God of Death". For a lucky few who are whisked away while in the cradle of dreams and for a few others for whom it all gets over in a matter of seconds before they can even comprehend that it just happened, at the cost of sounding cruel, I would still say, its a blessing in disguise....but for the rest, from what I have seen and experienced, its an immensely traumatic affair. The knowledge that its time to leave, that all you lived for and lived with, has to be left behind, can be extremely painful. Letting go can be a difficult task at hand, especially for the acutely emotional ones. I, for e.g., am one who gets emotionally attached to anything or anyone that I decide to give that space in life.....it could range from entities as important as the family, that special someone, to just a person I have met, a friend to even something as simple as a workplace that I am used to. Walking away from these due to circumstances in life, say a change of job, is in itself a hideous task for me. This, even when there is a slim chance that life might turn a full circle and bring me back to what I leave behind now. Given that, I can't help but imagine what an intense wave of sentiments a finality like death could bring in on me. If I were to be aware of the fact that I will be leaving behind all that I ever held dear, I would die a death every single moment till my wait for the end is over.

Who says then, that suicide is an act of cowardice. In my opinion it takes a hell lot of courage to decide and let go off life and all that is associated with it. Having said that, let me add, I am not here to say that giving up on life is a wonderful thing to do. Living and facing the challenge that life brings with it is an act of greater intrepidity. But I have often heard people comment in such cases that, if only the person had thought about all he/she was leaving behind.....if only the person had been a tad bit stronger. It is in that context that I say, no one should assume that an extreme step is always a result or sign of weakness. It might as well have been the tipping point after having stayed strong for too long. And no one can fathom what it could have taken that person to consciously let go off....everything. 

Now that I have said all the above, although it might appear to be so, the fact is I am not scared of death. I have been handed over my share ( and possibly a little more than what I had expected J ) of the tough tasks that life ( being the tough task master ) hands over to each one that lands up on the face of this earth. I have had my moments of "weakness" or "strength".....but so far I have sailed through them and I hope I can do so with grace every time in whatever period of my life remains, until its time for me to walk over to the other side of the rainbow.

And just as I come to a close, in the benefit of those who have been kind enough to reach upto this point of my monograph, inspite of the extremely dark and heavy mood that it carries, let me just end this on a positive and hopeful note - "Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here lets dance it away". J J J

Of tears with promises.....

Ever seen a bride shed those pearl drops from her eyes just when her father gives her hand away in marriage...or when the man of her dreams marks her a married woman by colouring her red or tying that sacred black string of beads called the mangalsutra around her neck.....ever wondered what those tears carried within? Some will invariantly question, why cry....why the drama....isn't it a happy occasion? Well of course it is, so you could very well term these as simple tears of joy.....but being a woman and having gone through the emotion in person I can safely say, it is much more than just that.....

Daddy's little princess, brought up with the utmost love and care, has to walk into a new world leaving behind a space which was her whole till that moment.....into a new world that she now has to make her own. She has her dreams about that pristine world. At the same time she's aware of what comes with it, that unseen responsibility of being able to become a part of the menage as soon as she steps into it.....with the same kind of solubility that one would expect from a pinch of salt in a glass of water. No matter the age....be it a bubbly girl fresh out of college or a lady who has seen her share of the world....walking into the boundaries of matrimony at once makes it mandatory that she should become that perfect image of maturity and balance who can just change herself in a fleeting moment to fit the expectations that the new family has.....and more often than not, no matter how tough the challenge, she tries her best to live up to it...... J

So here comes yet another question....why does she? If it is that much trouble indeed, who asked her to? She can choose to ignore the expectations and live as she pleases.....after all it's the age aspiring gender equality.....isn't it? But this is not about a battle of the sexes.....it is all about those tears of dreams and promises......she does it for him, and for the life she carried as a dream in her eyes.....that perfect life with him!!

Alas, life doesn't come all that easy and sorted out....does it? Time and tide take their toll, and life becomes this roller coaster ride of highs and lows......and somewhere in the everyday mundane struggle to find our place in the crazy rat race, the hopes and promises are consigned to oblivion... J

But somewhere in a tiny safe hidey-hole of the heart, the dream lives on, peeking out at every instance that serves as a reminder of bits and pieces of that phantasm.....sometimes as wistful tears and sometimes as a sigh of an unfulfilled wish....

And what is life without hope....without a yearning for the unattained.....and so she keeps the ball of life rolling....holding on to the tears of promises....waiting for the day when she can finally live her dream!!! JJJ

Where the Mind is Without Fear…..

A few days back, I happened to watch a movie which left me overwhelmed with the underlying theme…….that being the feeling of “freedom in captivity while being shackled in apparent freedom”. For those of you who are cinephiles like me, you may have already guessed that the flick I am referring to here is ‘Highway’. However, the purpose today of getting down to my favourite way of communication (writing of course) is not to come up with yet another review of the movie in question here, but to ponder a little over this central theme which has somehow affected me deeply.

Keeping my own self in view here, I realized how most people experience the same emotion, in some way or the other, but refrain from accepting it or admitting to this fact, lest they be looked upon as being eccentric or self-centered people who try to question the norms of this society that we all willingly or unwillingly, have to be a part of. A good friend of mine always tells me, “life is tough, yet beautiful and worth every effort to live it and keep oneself happy”. I can guarantee that while most people acquiesce to this in the privacy of their inner self, when it comes to action, people take a step back, yet again considering those unseen ambits that we all have imposed on ourselves. Societal norms and public image get the better of the happiness of our inner soul. Whether this is right or wrong, is again a subjective thought. It is largely determined by the priorities people set in life and by the level of sacrifice deemed acceptable by one.

Life presents us with different situations, and we make our choice and settle for that as the destination. Given the context of the moment when the choice is made, it may have been the best possible option. But don’t times and people change? Is it wrong to change? Or is it necessary that we consciously turn a blind eye to the change and pretend that life is just the same? Why is it that, being truly happy becomes a conditional affair subject to restrictions that the rule book of the society lays down? When I put forth these questions, I certainly don’t want to sound like one who is saying so because she is the devil’s advocate justifying any act or desire as acceptable under the pretext of being happy. Certainly not. But I would definitely like to consider the flip side with the possibility of breaking the unseen barriers of right and wrong sadly decided in most cases by the rules of the world.

While the concept of “where the mind is without fear” is a pleasing idea, the fact remains that each one of us succumbs to those unseen inhibitions, the fear which prevents us from lending a ear to the will of the mind, from taking up the road less taken or that step considered taboo. This brings me to yet another distressing question. After all the painstaking effort to grow – physically, intellectually, socially…..settle well, do all that is done in life to be considered successful, claiming throughout that it is all done with the aim of leading a good and happy life, does life actually spell out into happiness for all with this. Yes, gladly for a lucky section, it does, but for most, life more often than not adds up to a series of subdued wishes, sacrifices and compromises. And all this for what……for the life we proudly claim to be our own, but end up living it as per the whims of the society. Zindagi Milegi Na Dobara…………..is it? If yes, is it worth wasting this precious gift because others wouldn’t approve of something and force ourselves to live the life the world wants us to live. Or should we spread the wings of our being far and wide and live life to the fullest, which necessarily doesn’t mean that we go on an inconsiderate rampage blurring all distinctions between right and wrong.

Of all the questions that I have raised, while I personally would respond with an answer that would be considered rebellious, it’s an irony that I still find it difficult to put my views into action. Fortunately or unfortunately, in so many years of the life that I have already lived (not sure though whether I can consider it living in the actual sense of the term), I could only muster the courage to raise the questions and answer them honestly….. action is still a distant dream.

The Hows and Whys of Life………

Am back, and this time after a year……

Whenever I have taken to writing to indite my thoughts and feelings, I have more often than not, chosen to go by a central theme. But today, for the first time, I am here to just let out an incoherent flow of emotions. It’s difficult to explain the reason behind the urge to do so, but I guess, so far as the ‘I’ in me is concerned, it’s somehow just the need of the hour.

I have read and heard abundantly about one thing – ‘Life is a lesson, it teaches you a lot’. While sometimes this message would come from my mother telling me that each experience in life would teach me how to deal with things better than I did the last time, at others, it would come from just some random piece of text that I happened to run my eyes through, or from some candid moments shared with a close confidant. The hardest and possibly the best way though, is to get the message from your own experience. Although I must also admit that it definitely isn’t the sweet and encouraging piece of practical wisdom that you always gain in the process. However, it does make you a stronger person, one who can face life’s challenges with an undaunted spirit. But, in my view, more than anything else, it just somehow gives you the strength to live through a lot of unfair, unexplained, unjust, harsh and hurtful situations in life, and trust me on this, life does have loads of them in store for each one of us.

Over the last few days, some of my personal experiences, as well as what I have heard from people in different contexts, have forced me to take a rather quizzical look at life.  Although, I am aware of the fact that most of these queries would never have a logical answer, but that is what bothers me the most. Well, if I come to think of it more closely, it is more to do with the people involved, when such difficult situations are created in life, than life in itself, but I still can’t keep myself from asking this question of ‘Why?’, to which there is obviously no answer. And it is this unanswered question that makes life an eternal search, and sometimes just a compromise to fill in the gaps.

Let’s take this for an example – you have made possibly the only and the most difficult choice in your life. Make it anything that suits your imagination, the choice of a career, a life partner or any other important decision that you have taken. Your conviction says it is the right decision, and so you give it your all. With years of dedication, loyalty, honesty and trust you work towards making it a success. You nurture your dream and sacrifice and give up on a lot of other things and patiently wait for your efforts to show the results that you hope for and in all honesty, deserve as well. But destiny plays the cruel game, and you see your dreams shattered right in front of your eyes.  The distressing part – you were in no way responsible for it. It happened because people or situations in life betrayed you, they took you for granted and disrespected your sacrifices and efforts. It is then that you see yourself asking – ‘Why?’.

I came across a person a few days back whose ability to hope for and give life another chance after the innumerable times life had pushed her back, simply amazed me. She had been wronged by the people she had given her all to, many a times, but each time she gave those very people yet another chance to prove her faith and belief in them right. I felt she was demeaning herself in doing so over and over again. But then I tried to look at things from her point of view. She had dedicated a decade of her life, given up on a lot of her dreams, sacrificed a lot, and sincerely given her all to this aspect of her life. It was her ‘ALL’. So, she probably didn’t want that to turn into nothing, and so she clung on to the last thread each time and worked towards making it a strong binding. It is then that I started to see sense in her madness.

But, then I peered at the other side of the picture. Was it giving the people involved in her life, the freedom to take her for granted, to believe that she could never walk away? Probably yes. Which is why they kept doing the same everytime. They would give her a few days of confidence that this would never happen again, with assurances and pleas of forgiveness. And then they would expect her to get back to normal, resume her duties and responsibilities with all honesty and dedication, failing which she would be questioned, in a manner that said that this is what she was meant to do. It appalled me..….and this brought me to yet another question – ‘How?’. How could life (or put it as people if you like it, because life in a lot of ways is made up of the people involved) be so unfair?

This probably isn’t a very uncommon thing in the life of a lot of people, especially women, to be more specific the married ones. It is not that I have a chauvinistic attitude, but even in this age where we proudly proclaim that we believe in gender equality, there is this strange bias that I have seen most married women go through. I have seen a few lucky ones too, who have found a second home post marriage which gives them the same care, love and respect that all women as daughters get in their parent’s house. Very often we see a lot being expected out of women…...get married and there you go with a long list of duties, responsibilities and expectations to be fulfilled. Never mind if the standards set for the terms of  ‘duties, responsibilities and expectations’ widely vary when it comes to the other half of the conjugal relationship. Things that are considered unacceptable, almost criminal when it is for the female in question, happily become synonymous to ‘OK’, or ‘Mistakes happen’ when it comes to the male. The ones who decide to raise a voice or walk out are conveniently termed as incompatible or incapable of handling marital duties. Going by natural senses of logic, we might very well ask – ‘Why this difference?’. Of course, there is no logical answer and we as women, have somehow come to terms with this unanswered question of life atleast.

So, on the note that I had started with, although arising from an array of incoherent thoughts and feelings, I do have a lot of questions for life…....the unanswered Hows and Whys of Life!!!

A Tribute to Life……….TROY

I have shared various feelings that I have experienced in my life through the canvas of My Cognitions…..and this time, after a considerably long duration, it is pain and grief that has brought back the words flowing endlessly.

It has been close to two years now that I and my husband have been associated with the Bangalore wing of CUPA (Compassion Unlimited Plus Action) who run a shelter for animals in distress. September 2010 was the time, when, our final efforts to save an old stray dog near our apartment whose hind legs had been left totally non – functional, led us to the CUPA animal shelter. The doctors there tried their best to give the grand old dog another shot at life, but it was not to be. The poor dog had to be put to sleep to relieve him of the inexplicable pain and suffering that it had been enduring. 

While we were taking a look around the shelter, there was this one jovial and high – spirited pooch that caught my attention. On moving closer to her, we found that she suffered from the same kind of disability that the dog we had brought in, had. Her hind legs had been rendered useless due to a fatal injury to her spine during an accident that she had met with when she was barely six months old. A few kind – hearted souls had picked her up and brought her to the shelter. She was dragging herself all around using her front legs and at the maximum speed possible. To us as the onlookers, it appeared to be such a painful process as her skin was constantly rubbing against the ground. But, she was not one to be let down by her debility. Sheer enthusiasm and zest for life – that was TROY. 

A volunteer at the shelter told us that she frequently suffered from infections due to the abrasions she had resulting from the friction with the ground. He also told us that to reduce his discomfort and help him move around they had devised a trolley cart to support her hind legs. It helped her for a few days, and she would happily trot around the shelter with the aid of the trolley. Unfortunately, her spine was too weak to handle the weight for long and so they had to discontinue using it.  But all the pain and discomfort that we could visualize from what we heard was nowhere to be found in Troy, not even a speck of it. Her spirit and energy to win through all the challenges that life offered her was nothing but infectious. It made me feel so diminutive to think that inspite of belonging to that species known as the best creation of God, ‘The Homo – Sapiens’ , I was so easily discouraged and demoralized by things that were so insignificant when compared to what this four – legged creature was confronted with, and which she almost tossed ahead like a ball which was thrown towards her as an object of entertainment. 

We decided to adopt her as foster parents. Foster parenting here would mean that, we provide the financial support for all her daily needs as well as the constant medical attention that she required. So, September 19^th, 2010, marked the beginning of a lifelong bond between us and Troy. We would visit her once in a month or once in every two months, and the officials at CUPA would regularly update us about her condition. Everytime we visited CUPA she would be there to welcome us with the same warmth and love. Over a period of time a relationship developed between us which was nothing less than what one shares with one's child. She was our baby – our darling Troy.

The last time we visited her, we decided to gift her a new collar with tiny paw prints. It was lunch time for the inmates at the shelter and she was busy eating when we reached. Once she was done, we took her aside and removed her old collar and put in the new one that we had bought for her. She stayed with us for a while as we patted her and then she decided to take a stroll and so we let her go. We spend some more time playing with the other dogs and cats at the shelter and just before we got up to leave we decided to see Troy. But, she was nowhere to be found, we looked all around the shelter but she wasn’t around. We asked the attendants if they had seen her and slowly everyone started looking for her. They called out her name but there was no response. I started getting worried because this was very unlike her. After almost an hour of looking for her, one of the officials came out smiling from the office and told us she was in there. We walked in to find her happily taking her afternoon nap under one of the tables there. Seeing us, she pulled herself up and came to us with that very familiar expression of selfless love. We cuddled her for a while and then said good bye to her, but little did we know then that it was the last time we were seeing her!!!!

Just as we were planning our next visit to see her during the weekend, the officials at CUPA informed us that she had finally succumbed to the infection which had gradually spread across her body. Troy is no more and there is nothing that can fill the void that she has left. 

Yes, I know, that very few people, limited to those classified as animal – lovers, will be able to comprehend the profoundness of this bond between ‘Man and Man’s Best Friend’. I also know that some would consider this level of involvement with an animal as an act of insanity. But I consider the few, who are aware of this wonderful feeling of selfless love, loyalty, devotion and friendship that these speechless creatures shower upon their human companions, as blessed, for this is an experience that destiny showers only on the fortunate.

Troy has taught me and possibly many others who have known her, the art of living life to the fullest no matter what the conditions are. She has been an inspiration to many and she will forever live in our memories. I hope that she finds peace and happiness wherever she is.

Miss You Troy…..RIP………..