A souvenir to remember...

“It is going to be one month tomorrow,” Juan was talking to her mother, Xielei, who did not turn back or acknowledge her daughter’s statement in any way.

“Ma,” Juan continued, but this time her voice dropped, and she hesitated before she spoke. She did not want her thoughts to make way out of her head and form words. A word was more final and damning than a thought. She whispered, “Will they have survived by any chance?”

Xielei turned around, and in the dimly lit hotel dorm, Juan could feel her mother’s tired eyes. Tired from crying over her daughter’s uncertain fate.

“My love, keep faith. No harm will come to Shan. Now try to sleep,” her mother consoled her.

“Ma,” Juan persisted, “What will we do when they ask us to leave tomorrow. They have no more news, and they will close this centre. What will I do after that?”

“Be strong, child. Tomorrow is a new day. You should keep hope.” Xielei was more persistent in being hopeful, even though she knew hope was diminishing by the day.

There was only silence in return, but Xielei knew Juan had not slept. Not knowing what else to say, Xielei lay beside her only daughter and held her arm.

Juan and Xielei were one of the first to reach Hotel Lido on hearing the news of the missing flight. Juan’s husband, Shan was on the doomed flight to Malaysia, where he had decided to try his luck for a job.

Juan and Shan had known each other since their childhood, and everyone who saw them, knew they were made for each other. Shan’s cheerful and friendly nature could only be combined with Juan’s shy and soft spoken personality. They had always known that they would end up with each other, so they only made plans that included each other.

When it was time to choose a college, both of them decided to stay in their small village and get educated, than to move to the city and stay apart from each other.

After college, Juan worked as a rental property agent while Shan picked different jobs. He worked as a supervisor in a local convenience store. At first, the pay was just enough to support him and his farming family. Gradually, the pay stopped, and Shan was forced to shift to another job.

He took the post of an accountant in a private firm soon after. Though he had no experience, Shan was smart and he learned the tricks of the trade within no time.

His supervisor trusted him, and gave him responsibilities beyond the nature of his duties. For a while, everything seemed to go well. They could not have been happier when they decided to get married the following spring.

But by December that year, things started to go downhill. The firm that Shan was working with decided to close down for lack of funds, and Shan was once again left to look for a stable employment. He knocked on every door possible, but to no avail. The savings he had kept aside for the wedding began to dwindle, and eventually he thought of calling off the wedding till he could find a more suitable employment.

But it was the soft spoken Juan, who offered strength to Shan. “Let us marry. Whatever comes, we will face it together,” she had encouraged him. The following February, just as the first flowers bloomed after the harsh winter, Shan and Juan married.

It was a small wedding, with just family and close friends. Even though there were so many unresolved things, Shan promised one thing to himself – he would always keep Juan happy.

Soon after, on a friend’s advice, Shan decided to go to Malaysia for a job. Juan hated to be away from Shan, but she knew she had to let him go for a better future.

“I will come back in two months and if everything is alright, I will take you back with me,” Juan remembered Shan’s last words as he parted. He held her hands as he spoke, and when he let go, he pushed into her hands his most treasured possession – a lock charm with a mudan flower on one side and a lotus on the other. “Look Juan,” he explained to her once, “the mudan represents wealth and honor, and the lotus represents continuous happiness. So this charm will always bring me wealth and happiness.”

“Nonsense,” Juan had laughed hard when he finished. She did not believe in charms and the good luck they were thought to bring, but Shan prized it and wore it around his neck.

Every night, since the news of the fatal crash, Juan held the lock charm in her hands and replayed Shan’s last words to her. It gave her new hope and she refused to lose faith when the others did. She believed Shan would always find a way back to her.

But tomorrow, she might have to shed even the last shard of faith too. It was now a month since the crash, and there was still no trace of the aircraft. Rumours started to abound that the airlines and the government would withdraw from the search because of the lack of progress. For them, it would be another ‘accident’.

For Juan, it would be the end of her life.

It was around early morning when Juan finally managed to sleep. Xielei woke up but did not call Juan. She went in search of a washroom in the crowded dormitory. In addition to functioning as an information centre, the airlines had also arranged accommodation for the relatives of the crash victims in the hotel. Unfortunately, Xielei and Juan were not lucky enough to get a room by themselves. They had to share a bed in the dormitory, along with other common resources.

Both of them did not complain, because like all the others, there were far more important things in their mind than a shared bed.

By the time Xielei was back, Juan was also up and dressed. Breakfast was served in the huge banquet hall downstairs, as would be the first update of the day.

Juan dreaded the update that would come in today from the airlines, but she knew it was better to go downstairs and face it, than sitting here and wandering in the ghostly thoughts that inhabited her head.

In the banquet hall, people thronged in small groups and everyone was talking, wondering perhaps, what the next step could be if the centre closed down. The wall mounted TV was already on, and the news was being read out in Chinese.

The video conference would begin at exactly 9.30 AM, like it did everyday. The hall was buzzing loud now, but when the call began, Juan knew the silence from people straining to hear every word of the announcement would be equally deafening.

Juan took an empty seat next to a woman with a baby. The baby was bawling loudly in the mother’s arms, but Juan did not hear any of that. Her mind and matter focussed only on the lock charm – almost as if she willed Shan to appear through it.

She was so deeply lost in thoughts, that she only knew it when the baby had made a forceful lunge from his mother’s arms into Juan’s lap.

Alarmed, but reacting instinctively, Juan caught the baby before he could fall head over to the floor.  He was now partly held by his mother and partly by Juan. The baby was no longer crying, but he was attracted to the lock charm in Juan’s hands. He thrust his pudgy hands into her palms and tried to take the charm.

The shock had subsided and Juan was coming back to her senses. She realized what the baby was doing. She gently closed her palm and tried to take away the charm from the baby. Immediately, the baby started crying, “Baba… Baba…”

The mother managed to pull the baby into her hands, and murmured pacifying words. The baby must have been tired from all the crying, because he fell asleep soon.

Juan was watching the baby as the mother rocked him to sleep. When she was sure the baby was asleep, she turned to Juan.

“I am sorry. I was holding him tight till we saw the charm,” she said to Juan.

For a moment, Juan did not understand what she was talking about and then realized the mother was referring to the lock charm she was still clenching in her hand.

“When I saw the charm, I thought of my boy’s Baba,” she continued. “He had an identical one. When our boy was little, his Baba used to take him in his arms and the little one would play with the charm.”

Juan nodded. They were complete strangers, but she knew how this story ended. She also knew the pain that this story contained. Juan could not bring herself to speak, and the mother continued.

“His Baba used to say that the charm was for him, when he grew up. I don’t know if my little boy understood all that, but now his Baba will never be there for him,” the young woman sobbed as she finished her story.

Juan did not want to ask anymore, already her grief overwhelmed her. Now, this stranger’s agony seemed to engulf her.

The video conference seemed to be taking time, and suddenly Juan decided she did not want to sit in the hall anymore. She did not want to hear the update, and she also did not want to sit in a hall of despair and sorrow.

She searched for Xielei in the crowd and when she found her, informed that she was going outside for a walk. 

Juan did not return to the hall after her walk, but went straight to the dormitory. She knew the video conference would be over by now, and everyone would be discussing it in detailed in the dorm.

Xielei, sitting on a corner of their shared bed, looked up at Juan when she walked in. The outcome of the call and ensuing distress was evident on her face. Juan could read her fear and unhappiness without saying a word.

“They asked us to go back, didn’t they Ma?” Juan asked, sitting down beside her mother.

“Do you want to?” Xielei asked.

“Let us go back, Ma. I don’t want to stay here anymore. We have to go back someday, information or no information,” Juan said.

Xielei looked at her daughter’s resolute face and wondered if she would ever be the same again.

“If Shan is alive, he would somehow find his way back to me. I am sure of that. Let us go home now, Ma,” Juan said.

“Yes dear. As you say,” Xielei agreed.

Between them, they had nothing much to pack. In an hour, they were ready to leave the hotel.

“Ma,” Juan called to Xielei, “I need to find someone and then we can leave. Let us go to the banquet hall before we check out.”

Xielei was surprised. She did not understand this new Juan – a Juan who seemed determined and stronger than before. She silently followed Juan into the banquet hall, where the crowd had not yet dispersed, but were still lingering and carrying angry, disappointed conversations.

Juan was searching for the mother with the baby, and when she spotted walked forward to meet her. Xielei was surprised because she had never seen Juan interacting with any of the other relatives, and it was always Xielei who socialized in the hotel.

“We are leaving,” Juan was saying to the mother, “We did not want to stay back and hear one bad news after the other. If it is alright with you, I want to gift your son something.”

The young woman was as surprised as Xielei was to hear Juan speaking. Her baby was still in her arms, but awake and in a playful mood.

“Here,” Juan spoke in a soft voice to the baby. She was holding something in her hands, and pushing it into the baby’s hands, “This is from your Baba. He gave it to you. ”

The baby looked at the lock charm that Juan placed in his hands, and then at his mother. He crooned happily, “Baba… Baba…”

The mother looked at Juan with tear filled eyes and murmured, “Thank you.”

As Juan and Xielei turned to go back, Xielei asked her, “Are you sure of this? Shan loved it very much.”

“Yes, Ma,” replied Juan, her voice unwavering, “Someday, I believe Shan will come looking for me. Or maybe he won’t. But if I chose to, I can always move on with life with another partner and make even more memories. But for the little boy, he will always be deprived of his father's presence and love. I want him to have it, so that he knows he is not alone, and somewhere his father will always be looking out for him.”

Xielei nodded, understanding how much her daughter had changed over the months and how much more she will, in the years to come.

PARTNERS IN DREAM

School mostly meant freedom and fun to me. To be always under the shadows of an extremely studious sister was tough duty, but I tried sincerely (till second grade) and then stopped. I became totally allergic to studies and only the fear of the unknown (CBSE boards) could finally cure me in the tenth grade.

To sit through those long lessons was no mean feat, but my young and carefree mind dreamt its way through it all. All the hours in the classroom were spent fantasizing – about anything that could be fantasized.

Fairy tales of princes and princesses.

Bloody and victorious wars to win countries.

Ships and sailors who sailed to discover far off lands.

There was always a reel running in the back of my mind, with a fabulous story on its track.

 And sometime in fourth grade, I got a partner to dream with me.

It all began when the Malayalam teacher uprooted me from my usual last bench and made me sit next to Rajitha. My only fault, you should know, was my “horrible” spelling and equally undecipherable handwriting. Malayalam was a regular nightmare, only to be closely followed by 9 other subjects.

Rajitha was smart and had a great handwriting by the looks of it.  But more than that, she could string two words together in Malayalam and read it as well. Wow. That was my first encounter with a wiz and the front benches.

Sitting next to her, I was feeling outshined by the minute and I was just about making my mind to hate her, when she turned and smiled at me. Out of politeness, I smiled back.

"Can you read that word on the black board to me?” she asked pointing to a word.

Again, civility induced me to read the word to her.

"Well, what's wrong with you? You read pretty well. Why did the teacher pick on you?” she asked.

Well, they were the first words of praise that I received in the Malayalam class room. And with that began the story of the best friendship I have ever had in my life.

After that hour and in all the hours that followed, we sat together.

They say “beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder”. It is true, because in my eyes, she was the most beautiful and amazing person I knew. She had pretty black curls that made me fall in love with curls. And she had immense patience with me as she corrected my mistakes during class.

Even my pathetic handwriting started to go uphill once she started helping me in class. She instructed me as I carefully and slowly wrote down words on a four-lined notebook. She encouraged me when the f’s didn’t curl as intended or when the I’s came out crooked.

But what bonded us together started in a Social Science hour when, out of the blue, she asked me, "Do you like hearing stories?"

Interested, I whispered back “Yes. But why all of a sudden?"

"I'll tell you a better story. Give me a pencil and paper."

I tore a piece of paper from my notebook and gave it to her. That was how our storytelling sessions started.

Do you remember when I said there was a reel running in the back of my mind always? About the dreams of princes and princesses in far off lands. Of the sailors and wars.

Rajitha brought them to life on paper.

She could make up so many stories about princes, princesses, wars, famines, horses, fishes, stars, fairies and angels. And as she narrated her story, she would draw on the piece of paper. She deftly drew princes wielding swords, dogs who followed their masters, fishes who lived in dreamy underwater worlds.

Her stories had life in it, and I would always wonder, at the end of it, had it really happened.

Like the earth pulls us towards it, we had naturally gravitated to the back benches by the time we entered fifth grade. After all, there is no better place to tell a story than the back benches of a classroom.

During that year, there were a lot of things that I enjoyed doing with her. When the rains came, we enjoyed making stories about rainy lands where people had to row boats to reach places. She taught me how to make paper boats, which we took out to play in the rain-made puddles.

On those really cold days, we used to sit outside the classrooms before the morning bell, and watched our breath forming vapour as we spoke. Then there were the games of Black Shoe that we played with the rest of our friends.

Our favourite needle-leaved tree, underneath which we spent most of our break times.

And after all this togetherness, came the longest two weeks of separation – when I had chicken-pox and was kept away from school.

Before we knew it, we were a year older and a grade ahead. All of us were eagerly waiting for the two-month long summer vacations in June. When you grow up abroad, long vacations mean travelling to your hometown and that is how my family decided to spent vacations that year.

I was really excited to go home and meet my grandparents and as soon as the dates were confirmed, I called up Rajitha and told her the news. She promised to be ready with so many more stories by the time I come back.

Vacations were a happy time. But I was waiting eagerly for school to reopen. And finally after days of impatient waiting, school did reopen.

As was our routine, I came to class early and decided to wait for Rajitha. When I did not see her before the first bell, I thought she was late and would come running in as the class started.

The second bell rang indicating the start of classes, but there was still no sign of Rajitha. I had perched myself on the last bench and it was getting lonelier by the minute, but I decided to wait for her. Minutes passed into hours, hours into days and days into weeks. Still no Rajitha.

It was then that a girl who we used to consider a continual pest, informed me that Rajitha and her family had cancelled and left for Kerala forever.

I remember sitting in the last bench, feeling lonely and forlorn. I remember wishing that she called me before she left. Maybe she could have left a note just for me.

A call or a note would have given me a closure – it would have left me in peace about our friendship. I would not have been left wondering about how she is or what she is doing. But now, she is an open chapter in my book, one which I do not know the ending of. And will always be left wondering if there was a story to tell…

Rajitha had opened to me a whole new world. The world that I still live in. She is the reason I love writing. The reason that I believe we should give our best in all that we do. And I wish and hope that wherever she is, she would still be telling her fascinating stories…

------

Girl… I have a tolerable handwriting now, but thanks to you mainly, I scored laudable marks in Malayalam for the Boards. And how I wish you were there to see my name in the honours list.

Life has changed in so many ways and during the course, I may have forgotten how to make those paper boats. But you -you remain vividly in my memory, just like it was yesterday.

At every turn in life, I keep thinking what it would be to have you by my side. Maybe, like most friendships, we would have died a natural death. Or maybe, we could have been together, doing all those things that we liked doing together.

I can only wonder how it would have been if we were together, but there is one thing I am sure of - it would have been different than it is now.

It would have been like having your shadow as your soul mate. 

A Teacher's Heart

God has it all planned!

Find yourself!

Being in awe!

I work quite close to the Shanghai (Hongqiao) Airport. Exactly how close, I didn’t know till I almost touched the nose of an aircraft. Yes, a live, engine-throbbing aircraft.

I was returning to office after an errand at my bank. The winter had not quite released its hold over us, but all around me flowers were blooming and there was a general sense of “pleasant”ness in the air.

One of those ideal days, when you are as light as a balloon and nothing could go wrong with your life.

One of those ideal days, when you follow the saying, and literally smell the flowers. And even take a picture or two.

One of those ideal days, to plug in your headset to your favourite music and croon to it.

One of those ideals day, when you deviate from the path normally taken, mesmerized by the grandeur of an aircraft.

Normally, I would have taken the straight road and come to office directly. But even from where I stood, I could see the giant machine. The passengers boarding the aircraft seemed so tiny when compared to it.

I knew I had to go there. It was airport territory and I knew I was trespassing. It still did not deter my legs from taking the turn and walking straight ahead.

What if they shot me down?

Who cares?

There, I had reached the airport boundary which was marked by a wire fence. I did not want to touch it, for fear of being electrocuted. But I inched as close as I could to view that grand giant bird.

A distance of approximately 20 feet stood between me and the aircraft. But that was enough for me. I could feel myself so little beside this beast of a machine.

Now, you might be wondering what could be so mesmerizing with an aircraft, or how I could possibly make big talk about a machine that I was familiar with from a very early age. Oh cmon, what’s the big deal about an aircraft?

Yes, I had seen and travelled in aircrafts since the 19^th day of my arrival in this world. But when you travel, you have a lot of things in your mind – leaving behind people you love, passports, tickets, pending work. So much that you are not left with enough time to admire the aircraft standing on the tarmac.

And then when it is finally time to board, everybody is in a mad rush to enter the aircraft at the same time. Almost like you would lose a seat if you didn’t enter first.

So on that day when I saw the aircraft, face to face, or rather nose to nose, I couldn’t help but stand there and stare at the massive beast. And wonder about the great power it held within itself. About the laws of nature it defied and manipulated to stay in air. About mankind and the intelligence that created this raw, meaty combination of strength and beauty.

On walking back, I was reminded of the lyrics in Ronan Keating’s song ‘I hope you dance’.

“…I hope you never lose your sense of wonder

You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger

…I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean…”

I might be getting old, but this I’ll promise to myself. No matter how old I get, as long as this world holds wonders in it, I will always take a detour to admire it. Even if I could get shot for it…

Being Old

“These people might be crazy”. To anyone born and reared in the southern most tip of India with closed and conservative social values, this would be the natural reaction when you see some fifty odd oldies grouped together at a community ground and dancing to Chinese music. If this happened at my place, they would get a few unfriendly (read hurtful) remarks.

As ever, my curiosity held me there and I watched for a while. I could imagine what my grandmother would have said if I asked her to take up community dancing. She would have given me the ‘Top 10 reasons not to dance when you are old’, which would include “I am too old” and “what would people say if they knew”.

My grandmother would never have dared to do this, and yet, in this neighbouring country I see the old folk dancing away, without any inhibitions of old age or worries about a judgemental society.

After a few minutes, I decided to go my way, mentally applauding this country and the people in it for being different. I hardly took a few steps, before I saw this.

A couple, tired from dancing were sitting down on a bench in the adjacent bus stop. The old lady was resting her foot on her husband’s lap and he was rubbing her aching soles.

Marriage is nothing but a constant companionship. It takes so much to fall in love, and even more to stay in love. To live 20 or 30 years together, without losing the attraction for each other – that is one daunting, almost impossible task with an outcome that can never be guaranteed.

I wondered about the old couple – one taking care of the other. This is the jackpot that we all dream of, a partner who stays by us through thick and thin, the partner who will untiringly rub our soles when we are tired from dancing. A partner with whom we are not afraid of growing old and being old.

That cold blue night gave me a new energy. After having failed in many of my relationships and having coming to the conclusion that love is a futile, hurt inducing exercise, the sight of the old couple dancing away in the dusk of their lives encouraged me.

They must also have fought and decided to give up. But here they are, at the end of it, braving all the storms – providing comfort and joy to each other.

Some day, some time, I will again believe in the magic of love. When I do, if he comes along, I promise to be that untiring partner who will rub his soles. And I hope he will too. 

Dog Love

We were well into March, and yet, there seemed to be no relief from the cold winter in Shanghai. I was still stuffed under multiple layers of clothing, and a couple of times I had come close to swearing at the Good Lord for cursing this part of the world with a “never ending” winter.

The wind kept blowing so strongly, that I was afraid it might even blow me away as I walked to office. The shops on the roadside were opening, many of the shopkeepers were just sweeping clean their front walk as part of their morning routine. I smiled at our regular fruit guy as I walked past him and made a mental note to buy some strawberries when I returned from office that day.

I was about to take the turn to my office when a furry little creature ran past me, almost hitting me. A dog. A species that I have no particular care for, even bordering on the verge of hate. I have never had a soft corner for these creatures, but today would reveal an incident that would result in me giving them a little more respect.  

I looked ahead to see what was the creature running from – it could be a nasty shopkeeper wielding a stick to thrash its brains out. Hopefully, I searched for someone that fit the bill and quickly came to the conclusion that it was not running away from someone – but rather TO someone.

Probably to its owner who was careless enough to leave their pet behind. Usually, at this point, I would shake my head and walk ahead, totally uninterested in the happenings in Dogworld. Today, curiosity or maybe, my instincts prompted me to stay there and check whether the dog reached safely to its master.

What I turned around to see was different. The dog was baring its teeth and standing on the edges of the road, as if trying to cross the road but could not because of the onslaught of traffic. Where could it be rushing off to in such a hurry, I wondered.

My answer was right across the road. A lady was straining against the leash of a dog, which was trying hard to resist. The lady struggled to walk with the dog equally struggling not to co-operate.

I could see Dog no. 2’s resistance wane as the lady eventually started to drag him (or her. At this point, I would like to call it as ‘her’) along the harsh road. On the other side of the road, when the traffic saw a respite, I could see the hero of my story dashing to cross the street.

Too late. The lady had managed to drag dog no.2 to the gates of the community where she probably lived. From where I stood, I could see dog no.2 give as much resistance as possible, digging her claws into the hard road, trying to buy as much time for her friend to reach her. All the while, straining her neck on the harsh leash trying to turn around and keep her eyes on him.

Life is unfair – almost always. Not just in our world, but in the canine world too. By the time, he managed to cross the road without getting run over, the lady had disappeared with her pet into the depths of the concrete maze within the gates.

I could see the dog, worn and breathless gazing at the community gates. Though its back was turned to me, I could see in my mind, a pair of sad brown eyes. As if not willing to accept defeat, he walked to the shade of a tree and sat down.

I wondered, when was the last time I had run for a friend’s sake. Hell, when was the last time I did something – anything- for a friend?

Next time, I promised myself, if I ever have the chance to run for a friend, I will run like it is the end of the world. Even if the gates close on me. 

A Lesson in Silence.

Amma... That is what I call my mother. Amma and I were never the best of friends. And I can't blame her. I was more of a tomboy all my growing years. I know I've never appreciated her enough, but I know how hard it was for her to be a full-time working mother of three children, not to mention the extreme pressures she faced as an expatriate working in a foreign ministry hospital. All the hard work took a toll on her health, but never once have I heard her complain or fail in her duties as a wife or mother.

Never of a very strong constitution, Amma was diagnosed with cancer in the uterus when I was doing my third year in engineering. The surgery left her physically weak and emotionally drained. But of the little I know of my mother, I knew she was not the type to give up. She rejoined work after the surgery.

Several months after the surgery, she came back for a medical check up. She was still tired and weak but she went around with same vigour that I'd seen in my childhood days.

One morning we decided to 'pay a visit to the green grocer's'. We were laden with fruits and vegetables at the end of our shopping and we boarded a bus to get back home. We were lucky to get seats in a bus that got crowded within the next two stops.

For people who have travelled in the buses here, they know how difficult it is for the able bodied to get a hold while the bus is moving, let alone the old and the weak. The whole thing becomes an infernal hell when it starts getting crowded too.

The bus stopped to let in an old lady, bent with age. She hardly had all her body parts in the bus, before it started moving. However she caught herself before she fell. Age is never a matter in a crowded bus and no one offered a seat to the old lady.

I had neither seen the old lady nor her plight. But my mother noticed. She gave me her packet of vegetables and without a word to me, before I could understand what she was doing, she got up from her seat, offered it the old lady and moved into the crushing crowd.

Being the impulsive person I am, I'd worked myself up into a rage by the time we got out. I reminded her that she was physically very weak and that she could've simply asked me to offer my seat. All I got in reply was her smile.

The incident for no reason remained in memory. And now when I think about it, I can understand what she intended by her actions. If she had told me to move, I would've done it. But on another occasion, where it would be my decision to move or not to, I might opt for the comfort of my seat.

But in her silent way, she taught me to share what little we have to make a better world. She had a little good health left with her. That she offered whole heartedly to someone who was even more weak than her.

On that day she taught me a simple lesson with no words at all. A lesson that will forever remain etched in my memory.

Aarya and Teddy

There are only two kinds of feelings I have for dogs – intense fear and intense dislike. The dislike being inversely proportional to size and fear directly proportional to the same. Hey, don’t get me wrong – we all have our dislikes. You hate spiders, I hate dogs. 

But this story is about a dog who changed my perspective about relationships and the participants in a relationship. This story is about my Teddy.

Teddy and I were no friends – by any means. I kept away from Teddy, and he kept barging into me, literally. Teddy was a big, brown German Shepherd and I – well, I hate to admit it – I was barely 5’2” and a very skinny girl. Meaning I was little equipped physically to handle a full grown, overly energetic dog whose main interest in life was to knock me down. 

I shouldn’t blame him. Teddy was the love interest of my Aunt and Uncle, whose home I frequented during my graduation days. My cousin sisters were also totally into him. He was the “son” of the family, loved and adored by all. It was only I who couldn’t stand him. 

Teddy was used to adoring eyes and sweet words, and according to my aunt, he just couldn’t stand my ignorance of him. He kept nudging me when we were out watering the lawn. He tried to lick my feet when I did my chores outside the kitchen, which opened into a backyard where he was tied up often. And there was one time when he bounded up to me, stood on his hind legs, forelegs on my shoulders, thus putting his full weight on me. I was caught entirely by surprise, and staggered backwards. I could have fallen, had not my cousin caught me in time. 

I never forgave him for that episode, and I resisted him even harder. I refused to have anything to do with him, even sharing my ice cream with him when he looked imploringly at me. 

Teddy loved everyone in the family, but there was no one he loved more than Aarya. In fact, it was just the same for the rest of us too. We all loved Aarya more than we loved each other. 

Aarya was the eight-year old daughter of our house maid. She had come to stay with us when she was quite young. Aarya had lost her father at a very early age and was too little to be separated from her mother. So my uncle had suggested that our maid bring her along when she came. 

From that moment, Aarya was family. It is very rare to find a child with whom an adult can enjoy company. But with Aarya, you could talk to her like she was your best friend, one of your own age. Maybe one of the right words to describe her would be cheerful. I have never seen her with a sulking face or an angry retort. There was always a certain quietness around her that soothed you when you are down. 

Aarya and Teddy were kindred souls from the day Teddy was brought home as a small furry ball of cuteness. Aarya fed him, washed him and played with him. 

Back then, Teddy was notorious for chewing our rubber slippers and it was Aarya’s job to ensure that he left the slippers alone. Well, she was also his partner in crime, because who else would clean up all evidence of his misdoings? 

One chewed the slipper and the other hid the chewed slipper in the waste pile.  One ran around the lawn and dug pits, the other followed closely behind to close the pits. One was never allowed indoors but would still come in all the same and the other would run behind, clearing paw prints and dusting dog fur from the floor. 

They had other routines as well. Aarya would never eat a piece of chocolate or ice cream without giving it to Teddy. He was not allowed to have coconut, but Aarya found ways to sneak it to him. 

Teddy would lie lazy and uninterested all day when Aarya went to school, but around the time she would be back, he would get up and start pacing around in his kennel. The joy of the two meeting after a long morning would be so boundless one would think they were long lost friends. 

Life went by in this mode, sweet and savoury in equal measures. I was closer to completing my graduation. Our all-girls cousins’ gang were each progressing in their respective realms – marriage, graduation, high school, first job…

Aarya also moved ahead in classes. Everybody had a word of praise for her, she was everyone’s friend and confidant. She went around with a smile on her face and cheer in her heart, and was, as ever, her mother’s support and happiness. 

Nature has a law. When things seem to go smoothly, there will come something that is major enough to change everything. It changes relationships, thought processes, opinions, interests and re-aligns us to new people and choices. 

That was what happened to us. Or what happened to Aarya. We had noticed a listlessness in her. Always buzzing around, she was suddenly very quiet and preferred to lie down always. She lost her appetite and constantly complained of headache.

As days passed, she showed no signs of improvement, and worried, we took her to a doctor. He did all the usual tests and asked us to come back when the reports were ready. A week went by – unusually quiet, but wrought with anticipation. Looking back, I remember a feeling of heaviness in the atmosphere. We are taught to face life with hope and faith, but days like those, you just knew something bad was waiting around the corner.  

It was one of those stuffy, humid mornings when my eldest cousin took Aarya and her mother to the hospital for the follow-up consultation. There, as gently as he could, he broke down the news to us. Aarya had a tumour in her optical nerve, and it had spread so fast that she had lost most of her sight in one eye. She needed to undergo the best of treatment immediately or else she would lose sight in the other eye as well. 

Our lives changed overnight. Everything was upheaved. Decisions were taken on the go. Calls were made, strings pulled so that she could get admitted in one of the top institutions in the country. Within a week, everything was packed and she was set to go. She had lost weight and there was an air of tiredness around her. She went to her school and bid goodbye to her friends and teachers. Even so, she had it in her to stay cheerful and happy. She stroked Teddy and promised him she would be back home soon. He stayed close to her side till she left the gate. In fact, all of us stood there, heartbroken, at the gate, watching her walk away. 

And that was the last time we saw her…

From the minute she walked out the gate, we kept the death vigil for her. Her days of medication were painful and our chubby cheeked beauty lost weight so fast that we couldn’t recognise her in the pictures she send home. Her thick dark hair was shaved off her head for surgery and she looked pale like a ghost. But even then, no matter her pain, u couldn’t find her without the smile on her face. She bore her pain cheerfully, was the constant source of hope to her mother and kept faith that her Almighty Father would not forsake her.

Most of the time, we could keep in touch with her only over the phone. Her previously twinkling voice had taken on a rasping quality and she struggled for breath while talking. But she made us all wonder, how a little girl of her age could be so calm and at peace with everything. Her courage astounded us no end. By December of that year, the lively girl we knew had faded away so much. 

Back at home, we were all planning a reunion on Christmas at our grandparents’ place. Beneath the knowledge that Aarya won’t be able to join us, everyone had hidden a very thin facade of hope that she will come bouncing back into our lives. But hope kept fading by the day. Prayers were heavily wrapped with tears. Her labour for the slightest breaths, evident over the phone, rented our hearts apart.

Two days before that Christmas, death took her away in its rotting hands. The sunshine had gone from our lives forever. 

The reunion at home was quiet. No one had words to speak, and the air was heavy with grief. But the most profound effect of Aarya’s death was on Teddy. When someone leaves us forever, it is tough to break the news to a loved one. But how do you have the talk with a dog? And even if we did, would he understand it?

But Aarya and Teddy were bonded by the soul, and he must have felt her loss even before we knew of it. Those of you who have a dog can understand what I mean when I say, Teddy mourned and mourned Aarya for days.

After that, we often found Teddy with a vacant look in his eye. We could not entice him to his ball games any more.  He was no longer interested in the hose spraying water in the lawn. I watched him while I did my chores. He laid there, empty-eyed – no more licking of the feet or gazing longingly at the coconut strips. 

Do dogs also lose the zest to live...? 

How do we tell them to move on…? 

I wish I knew, because if I had another chance, I would have told Teddy that it is alright. To smile again. To play with the water again. To chew the slippers again. And so much more…

----

We had to finally give Teddy away, in the hope that a new house and new friends would cheer him up. My cousins moved on with life and the pursuit of their desires. As it happens to all, with time, we eventually moved away to distant places for different reasons. 

I went on to complete my graduation and post-graduation. I still keep away from dogs, just as vehemently as I did then. Aarya’s mother still works with my aunt. 

We don’t speak much about Aarya now. But she is always thought of. In fact, none of us can return home without having memories of Aarya. 

And Teddy.