H & B: Hot (under the collar) and Beautiful (in every way)

That fellow na is quite a brat. Agreed he’s the typical roadside ruffian. He’s even named – Baburao – to match it. But she’s no less. All fur and mischief, she’s got a pretty face and a temper that flies off the handle when B is around.
Moving their tails almost in unison, the trio (gorgeous mom K, handsome brother T and she) walk - oops march - right through his territory every morning. Striped like a tiger, this skinny, jumpy, loving dude has figured that of the three, she’s the biggest threat to his authority. Which she isn’t! Houdini’s (H) just Barbie in fatigues. Not possible you think? Here’s how I found out:
On every walk that I’ve seen them, when B is around, the three try to rip their wanna be alpha male’s (we shall call him S) arms out. Imagine the kind of arm twisting that goes into it. One man, three big dogs in two hands. Yep, its tough.
Should push come to shove, B has his pack to back him up. H's pack has not been put to test yet. On most days, H has seen S get angry and shoo irritating B away. Perhaps what H figured that her pack, S included will tear into his. But there came an exception to those days. There was this one-day when S wasn’t in the city. So walking duties were handed over to his always-smiling better half R. She got H and bro for their walk that morning.
Now before we go on the walk, I must mention that B loves me a lot. He walks with me up and down the road when I’m alone, doesn’t let any dog come close to me and talks to me about what he’s done since I saw him last. Yes, we actually do have a dialogue. He totally dislikes, abhors and hates me petting any other dog. So much that he gets upsets and growls and prowls displaying his annoyance. I feed him breakfast sometimes and bones on occasion.
That morning, I saw R with H and went quite delightedly their way. I forgot all about the rascalicious B hovering in the background. Before I knew it, H was snarling growling tugging at her leash and B was frothing, lips curled teeth out. And R had after a particularly sharp tug let H loose. There I was, watching B chase H who was running circles around us, leash flying behind her. R was standing quietly watching the crazy dogs and bro T was just ho humming minding his own business.
In that instant, I flipped. I forgot my own “let the dogs sort it out” logic. I forgot the other crucial rule – never get into a dog fight. I turned into H’s protector. And I overlooked the love that B had for me. There I was trying to shoo B while trying to grab H’s leash. After much no no–ing and bad boy ing, I got the leash and handed it over to R, who was as calm as the Budhda. (Wish I was half as calm for all my talk...) In the many seconds that all hell broke loose, I saw B grab H’s posterior and walk away with a tuft of her coat as his trophy.
And I realised that she is really just Barbie in fatigues. Totally Chic-ken.
As for me, I was totally a wuss at that time. I should have let them "sort" it out. Instead, I gave up on walking down B's road. Decided I was mad at him for being what he is - a dog. That was till yesterday when I felt awful, missed having him chatter nineteen to the dozen and took him bread and egg for breakfast.

Disclaimer:
All references to dogs are truly intentional.
Names have been reduced to alphabets to protect identity

Barking mad

I love dogs. Those of you who know me would know of the lengths I go to to make friends with them. And you would also have experienced my clucking and conversations with dogs –stray and the ones on a leash.
Short shrift
We buy fish from this shop on Sus Road. Not much of a shop, it is basically a big courtyard that has been walled with tables that are regularly loaded with pomfret, prawns, surmai, bangda, crabs, halwa, tisrya and varieties I am not familiar with.
There below the tables lurks this 12 inch tall black dog. She’s tiny, really innocent to look at and always seems to be well fed. Normally, she wags her tail and comes happily to look at me. If she’s asleep, I wake her up and she comes to sniff my hand, always.
That day was no different. For me that is. I bought my pomfret and noticed the black baby dozing under the table. As always, I clucked her awake and as always she woke up and groggily looked at me. And so I did the next in our series of associations-I put my fingers in front of her nose so that could sniff and I’d give her head a pat. Nervous about these small dogs I have always been, simply because they are known to snap for the sake of it. But this one has desi blood in her which thus far had me imagine she was different from the rest.
That was till the bitch snapped growled and gave me a disgusted look all together. Now I’v decided never to talk to her again. Kutti, you see!
The big one
Later in the day, I was to go for a haircut with a friend. She’d recommended this hairstylist who was starting out on his own. We reached there and in an area cordoned off under the staircase I saw a big warm face – of a Saint Bernard.
Disappointed yet again to see the breed in Pune – our temperatures are nowhere close to what the dogs are meant to live in- my heart melted. More so since the poor thing was in a cage slightly bigger than him. And I couldn’t help but talk to the mutt. When he got up, I expected the gentle giant to be either amused or at least tolerant of my cooing. Hairy beast showed me his teeth and barked. I jumped, startled shocked and sad.
Mr Red eyes is named Bruno and lives in that excuse for a “home” day in and out. Summer rain or winter. Don’t blame him for being disagreeable to humans. But hello, I love dogs.
The first family
Just you ask Houdini, Thele (pups), Kiara (mom) and Krunk (old uncle) and they will tell you about the mad woman who keeps a look out for them on their morning walks. And having seen them, runs down six floors of her building and out of the gate only to get them to lick her face off and to have her hair filled with dry leaves, those sticky fruit, hair and of course dog breath – everything they carry rather generously on them.
But I don’t complain. The pleasure is to see mom and kids walking with their gorgeous pink tongues and wet black noses, even from a distance. As it is to see old man Krunk now heaving through a smaller walk yet obviously delighted with himself and the world around.
The fun is when T H K meet Krunk who is walked alone since he can’t keep pace with the monsters. Though they stay in the same house, and have met maybe 40mins ago when they left on their walk, they go making noises and licking each other like they haven’t met in days. As they do when they jump and meet me twice on the same walk!
That’s the fun of having a dog. Its only love.

10 pointers for when you decide to do up your home

Hire a contractor/interior design person who will ensure none of your things are stolen and few (if at all) are broken.

Decide milestones you will pay pre decided sums at.

Approve designs before commissioning them. Get the designer to show you a picture of what it will look like-complete with colours, wall art, upholstery, furniture etc.

Once work begins, cook in the morning and head out. Return only for dinner.

Make one room your fortress. Stuff it with books, music and lots of good food to see you through the days you cant go out.

Tune yourself out of cleanliness routines. The dust will accumulate minutes after you finish dusting.

Live without the telly, as an experiment. Will help you reconnect with fly.

Pick and pursue a hobby and an exercise routine.

Talk as little as possible with the workers. Ultimately they will listen only to their boss so catch him/her for the tiniest detail.

Don’t feel bad about correcting an idea you have or a mistake you or they have made. After all its your house and you will have to live with the mistakes.

Confessions of a part time housewife:

Breakfast of brinjal bharit

Snack on bacon egg and bread

Couple of spoonfuls from a tin of condensed milk.

Bites of chocolate cake made at home over pages of good reading

Toss in some banana chips

Dig straight through sandwiches

Break for an orange

Work feverishly on mail, online shopping and facebook

Tired of sitting on posterior. Walk to the terrace, check on clothes upstairs.

Coffee/tea and count the minutes till 4 o clock that brings with it the five-and-a-half-year-old terror.

Pune was happily nuzzling under the monsoon some days ago. Lost in thought, on a luckily sunny morning, I was, as usual, staring into my collection of pots and plants that morning. Happy with the very green leaves and the bright red tomatoes that needed to be plucked, I turned to weed a particularly dense corner where my pink-red hibiscus and Kardal plants grew amicably with the Gladioli.

What is his problem I mumbled when I saw my regular guest, a perky tiny green and yellow sunbird, disturbed at my presence. Not wanting to irritate the little fellow who I knew visited that corner for the nectar from the Kardal (Canna indica) and Hibiscus, I moved to the far corner and continued my pottering. The smart fellow, I observed, was making frantic frequent trips to that corner of my garden and it wasn’t for food. Naturally intrigued, I kept watch.

His mission I soon happily realized was to build a nest in a fold of a kardal leaf. Through the day and over two more, he flew in and out, muttering sometimes quiet at others, sharp beak filled with bits of cotton and something I like to call twine.

Thus a nest was ready in a corner protected from the rain and from prying eyes as I discovered later. The Mrs okayd it and moved in. I never figured when the eggs were laid, but I knew they were when I saw my little friend flying in and out, fast as always, with insects in his beak.

I spent many minutes every single day staring at the nest hoping to see a teeny head pop out or at least hear a cheep. Rainy days and thundering nights came and went, but not a tweet did I hear nor a movement detect. With the days, my curiosity grew and I went closer and closer trying to squeak into their little home. Unfortunately, I never figured how many had hatched. For, every time I went to the nest there was not a squeak. And that with kids around, as you may know, is a tough call indeed.

I realized I would have to wait, albeit impatiently, till Mama and Dada decided it was time for the little ones to take flight. My wait was rewarded one overcast Sunday evening. Upset at Dadas persistent loud chirping, hoping he and his family were not being heckled, I snuck a look at the terrace. And somehow knew the time had come. I ran in and got Arin. Together we peered into the terrace trying to spot the little one. “There it is,” cried Arin and after all these anxious weeks of waiting, I couldn’t see it! “Where where where,” I cooed. “Just there mamma. He has almost no tail,” he replied. And there it was in the middle of the terrace, a scared tiny fluffy little-tail baby.

The chirping got more frantic as they saw us watching. Being a protective mom, of even their brood, I encouraged Arin to watch the flight sequence through the glass door to the terrace. Though the five-and-a-half-year-old was all dressed and ready to leave for football, this one of nature’s gifts was too much to deny, so mom and son continued to gaze adoringly on to the terrace. And discovered there was another chick. This one had no definition of a tail! And yet, with the shrill calling of its parents, it too was trying its feathers.

Delighted, both of us giggled at our discovery and continued tracking their every move. From the pots where their nest was to the curry leaf plant, the lemon tree (of which it looked like an extension) and the small railing made for the money plants, the babies were flapping furiously or then hopping.

The bulbul, nosey brat that he is, walked in to check out the commotion. Thankfully the pigeons stayed away and the mynahs observed only from a distance. The terror, for me, came in the form of crows. Worried sick that one of my family was to be picked up, I told my able footsoldier to shoo them away should they come close. Law of the jungle be damned.

With all the cheering and yelling from their parents, they learned to fly. Tomorrow, I’m hoping to see them, give them a little smile and to tell them they are welcome back with their grandkids, to nest, eat and rest.

Things that make you go hmmm

At twilight almost every evening that he was in Pune, the roly poly man would appear sure as the sun at my home. And on most evenings, hed take me for a mini walk - with me on his kadevar to the corner. A chocolate perhaps or just the walk was what we did to become best friends.
On the way back, we would unfailingly play He ahe ka tuza ghar?....where, he would point to all gates and ask me if that was my house. Bursting with giggles I would say no and he would say ok then it must be the next...
My favourite game with my favourite kaka - Khi - ravi tilak. I spent the most amazing, secure, fun evenings of my early childhood with him. He indulged me and I loved him. But then time changed and distance set in when we moved house and couldnt meet...till he came and cried like a baby at my dads death. the years flew faster and I became a mother...and khi kaka was buried at the back of my mind. Sadly, I never attempted to get in touch. I wish I had. He passed away.
As I thought and cocntinue to think about him, the way he was part of my family, I see a lacuna in my sons life. He doesnt have an elder aunt or uncle who dote on him like I was doted upon. He doesnt have any adult currently inclined to attempt to create a fantastic bond with him.
I was lucky. I had a bunch of kakas who would give their life to see me smile, hear me laugh and to watch me play and to teach me things while we played. Khi was the first among them.
but most children today dont have uncles like that... wake up people. Kids need us, just like we do them. I'm hoping arin gets luckier than I did.

whooosh...its a tsunami

You know they say everything changes overnight and you nod your head along in conversation? And then it actually changes overnight for you one happy morning and you know exactly what they are talking about. And then you become part of them. A them you strongly believed you will never ever have to belong to.

what happens next is steady stream of thoughts. A cascading gigantic waterfall of emotions which ends in a deep-dark whirlpool. And while you go round and round and round and round, who do you go to for help? who do you look at for support? where do you look for answers? what do you do to keep a straight face?

if you have seen a close one die, a friend lose her/his way or been cheated in any way, you will know how that feels. Many would have been told by the wise that time heals everything. Just give it time. I have decided to wait and watch.