It started..

, I think when I was in my 1 st year…

I have this habit of walking on my terrace whenever I had nothing to do or whenever I feel the need for
solitude. I don’t remember for what reason I went upstairs then…, but the moment I reached terrace I
faced an angry dog, rather, as I later discovered, a protective mother. It was still calculating whether to
attack me or not when I shrieked and ran downstairs. When this happened we had new tenants
upstairs..., they had their own dog, a domestic one, which was pretty small compared to the one which
almost bit me. There is a thing with street dogs and domestic dogs I never understand, as I had little to
do with dogs…, our tenants rather aunty and ‘akka’ were quite new to me then.., we weren’t magnet
and iron at that time as we are now… well, I lost track…, what I wanted to mention was this street dog
and its proximity put their dog in a danger zone, but aunty still fed it with some food, I thought I
understood why but I understand it now. well, that was just the beginning…, the dog had like 4 or 5
puppies and we all got pretty fond of them.., who wouldn’t like sweet cute and fluffy puppies? We fed
them with bread and milk and even cautiously played with them. My akka, my sis and aunt loved them a
lot…, like they are their own blood relation or something…, I, on the other hand, wasn’t so much
attached… I didn’t know what love was then.., I just watched while the others lived.., the puppies used
to push and fight with each other for their share of food whenever we took something to them.., some
were dominating, some were sustaining one was being dominated and was obviously thin and skinny..,
we used to try and get some space for this poor puppy so that it might get its rightful share…so as a few
weeks rolled by these puppies grew up a little and one by one they got missed.., my sis and ‘akka’
wondered and worried where they were and finally assumed some people, mostly labor kids, might
have taken them to their homes, as if they were some dolls, as if they had every right over the puppies…
stupid reckless idiotic kids! Any way only one was left with us, I mean it continued roaming near our
house…, it grew up into a big but skinny and bony brown dog and so we called it browny… our little
browny… dear browny… our sweet browny…

At the beginning we used to feed it quite well…, my dad occasionally bought chicken and mutton
especially for it…, After some time it too gave birth to 4 or 5 puppies and we took care of them until one
day they irritated the hell out of my dad by bringing some dead creature into our compound and that
was it… from then on we were banned to entertain browny…, my mom and dad never allowed it to
come again to our house.., my sis and I, occasionally, used to feed it without the knowledge of my
parents…, all this time browny was some kind of dependent creature to me who was surviving because
of pity… until one day I looked into its eyes… those two little eyes… which conveyed everything with
much intensity than words can ever manage…, then I realized it had a heart, much better than my own,
and feelings…, there was pain, rejection, plea and an innocent question… I never understood what that
was… may be ‘why?’ from then on I always looked in its eyes and used to feel a little of its pain… my
burning eyes still see them in front of me…

All the puppies went missing for some unknown reasons…, 3 or 4 generations passed and browny
remained with us sustaining all the rejection… still following us whenever it sees any of us… with none of
its puppies… we used to see its mother occasionally… and then my dad got transfer and my sis went to
hostel… I and mom remained here and of course browny.., I used to feed it occasionally whenever I see
it, whenever there were leftovers whenever my mom was not home…
It gradually understood and found some other source for food… but still used to come running towards
us… after some time it just looked at us from distance… it used to sit on the steps of the opposite house
and used to stare lazily whenever we passed… still hoping if we had something for it… it used to become
a little alert and excited and when I gestured that I had nothing with me it again used to relax into its
previous position…

Yesterday or the day before I again saw it inside my compound sleeping on our steps… my mom was
with me and again made it leave the house…, she told me that it might be sick as it came to us only
then.., I suddenly realized she was right and wondered if the 4 th generation was on the way… I didn’t
know it chose our house to leave its last breath too, until today…

It died sleeping under our car… just after 3 short years of life… mostly hungry and miserable…

I wonder may be I could have done something about it… if not make it living now, I could have at least
given it a smile or some caring gesture when I last saw it breathing…,I did nothing… I didn’t even manage
to meet its eyes when my mom yelled at it… what did we do to make it feel that we are its own…? To
live and die with us? I heard some where that ‘ a dog doesn’t care whether we are smart or dumb, rich
or poor, if we just give us our heart it gives us his…’ may be it is not true…

My heart is with me… its not broken… just wounded… an hour of agony… a little ache in my stomach…
but that’s it…I’ll definitely not remember it in my last moments …. Ha! may be in just a two three hours
my heat will start beating for my coming interview with double speed…