Pixie and Me

Inspired by ‘Marley and Me’ (refer previous post), I decided to dedicate this particular entry to my dog, Pixie. This morning, I sat indulging in my favorite activity – thinking – and I thought yet again about how similar Pixie and I are. People usually tend to draw comparisons between themselves and their siblings; I draw comparisons between Pixie and myself. And even though we aren’t quite the same species, I am amazed at how much we have in common.

Both Pixie and I love people. A house full of immediate family members or guests delights both of us equally. The only difference is that Pixie wants to gobble up all the attention by seating himself strategically in the middle of everyone.

We both love going out with Dad - he on long walks or drives and I on book-shopping expeditions.

Both of us gorge on sweets.

Both of us are EXTREMELY fussy about our eating habits.

Both of us love to sleep.

Both of us are pretty demonstrative about our bad moods.

Both of us love photography – I do the photographer’s job and he does the modelling (and HOW!!)

Both of us love pillows.

Both of us try being adventurous and return with dog-bites.

Both of us love being pampered.

Both of us find the same people irritating (it’s true!!!)

Both of us can get extremely obstinate.

Both of us love Public Displays of Affection (to a certain extent, however) on ourselves.

Both of us love acting like kids.

And finally:

Both of us love Parle-G biscuits!!

That’s all for now, Folks!! See you later…..

Much Love,

Me.

Of Dogs And Humans

Dear all,

I just finished reading a book called ‘Marley and Me’. Authored by John Grogan, ‘M & M’ is all about the experiences of the Grogan family with its Labrador retriever, Marley. Now, Marley is all the things a pet shouldn’t be; he is destructive, disobedient, messy and in serious need of tranquilizers most of the time, but as you read on, you realize that everything apart, one thing that doesn’t change is Marley’s loyalty. Despite thick and thin, despite good and bad, and despite the changing behaviours of his caretakers Marley the dog continues to stand by his best friends-his family.

The Grogans, John and Jenny bring home a little yellow ball of fur shortly after they get married. What encourages them to bring home a puppy, apart from the fact that they are both dog-lovers, is that neither of them has taken up the responsibility of ‘nurturing’ a living being per se, and they both feel that before they start a family, raising a dog would be ‘good practice’. Shortly after that the subject of the book comes home. And from there begins the story of ‘the world’s worst dog’. A MUST read for all dog-lovers.

The book isn’t only about the unforgettable canine, though. It is interspersed with the life of the family; of the tough phases the couple’s marriage goes through, of blood-curdling incidents in the neighbourhood, of the author’s career…in short, the author has compressed about thirteen years of his life beautifully in this three-hundred page creation.

The book touched me in many ways, so much so that towards the end, when Marley is about to die, I started crying. I remembered the time my first dog Candy had died and realized, yet again, the value of my present dog Pixie, who is also in the evening of his dog-life.

Speaking of the book and giving in to the emotions that are surging within me now, I really want to share this little something with you. In today’s times, when you have such few people you can actually, seriously count on, undying loyalty and unconditional love are synonymous to heaven. When I look back on my twenty-one year old life, I see many things, both good and bad. I see people who have stood by their family and friends no matter what. I see people who have left them right when they needed them the most. I see the laughter and I see the tears. But what I see most is the need for loyalty and love. In everybody.

Some days when I am really low, I try and feed biscuits to stray dogs. Or else if I am broke or feeling stingy, I simply call out to them and stroke them affectionately. Either way, they accept my gesture with all their heart and soul, not once demanding anything more than that love and concern. And the best part is, the next time I walk down that same road, even if I don’t see them, they see me. And they come to me on their own wagging their tails away to glory. They recognize me, and tell me in their own special way that they love me because I have spent a few minutes of my life trying to make them feel loved and cared for. They always have time for me, and when I don’t have time for them, they understand. They come back another day, all prepared to forget my lack of attention and finding no need to forgive because I have committed no crime according to them. In other words, they harbour no spite. And that is the basic difference between them, the ‘silent’ species, and us, the ‘intelligent’ species. This might sound funny, but if even a fraction of the humans in this world can be as clean at heart as these ‘dumb’ animals, the world will become a much more beautiful place to live in.

Thank you for your time.

Much Love,

Misha.

Santa Claus: Myth or Reality?

Four months ago, on Christmas Day, I reached Bangalore for a short, but much-needed vacation. After the initial gleeful welcoming screams of my ten-year-old niece, Meghna and my five-year-old nephew, Akash, I learnt eventually that they were a wee-bit upset. The reason? Santa Claus hadn’t visited them that day. One probable reason, according to both the kids, was that Santa Claus had visited them at the stroke of midnight at their residence, but since they had been away until Christmas morning, Santa hadn’t found them and had hence decided against giving them gifts that year.

The reality, of course, was that my brother-in-law hadn’t been able to pick anything up for them in good time, since he, my sister and the kids had themselves been out of town,vacationing, until they had returned to Bangalore that morning. Sensing the kids’ disappointment and knowing that buying them something before the day ended was imperative, he left the house on the pretext of finishing some errands, returned in some time with the gifts, and hid them in the kids’ room.

A little later, Meghna squealed in delight- she had chanced upon the gift-wrapped parcels. “Santa DID give us our gifts after all!!!!” she shouted. (I have to mention, at this point, my brother-in-law’s feigned expression of surprise. One would have thought he believed in Santa Claus himself!) Anyway, the brother-and-sister duo then eagerly sat down to open their gifts. And I witnessed all this- a silent, much-amused spectator.

Initially, I must confess, I had found it all a little stupid…considering that I had learnt about the non-existence of Santa Claus when I was just a little older than Akash. But in hindsight, I realise the value of that one blind belief, and of the immense happiness that it carries. All year round, children long for that one occasion when they can bank on the red-robed, white-bearded jolly Grandfather-figure to grant them their most heartfelt wish. Someone they have never really seen or even heard. And even someday we learn that Santa Claus is but a fictitious figure, don’t we all wish to believe in someone, in some Santa-Claus-equivalent, who will grant us our wishes? All our lives? And I realize why this happens…it happens because no matter where we are, no matter how old we get, and no matter how many ups and downs we experience in life, we never, ever, cease to have wishes. The wish may be small, for example, craving a tiny bar of chocolate, or it may be big- a house, for instance. Or it may be neither…maybe just a tiny power nap, or a holiday, or the glimpse of a loved one, or of the touch of your beloved…whatever the wishes may be, they are there. And they are inevitable. Can we remember a single day when we haven’t wished for anything?

Sometimes, if we are lucky, we come across our own version of a Santa Claus, and our wishes are granted. However, more often than not, they do not transform into reality…they remain what they began as. Wishes. Plain and simple, genuine and heartfelt, Wishes. And we feel a little, just a little, a teensy bit dejected. But then, what would life have been, without wishes, both fulfilled and unfulfilled? We think life is reality. But, in reality, is it any more than one big wish? And, let’s face it; at the end of the day, don’t we all crave to believe, just once more, in someone like Santa Claus?