…don’t look at me like that!”, i muttured under my breath. i didn’t want her to hear it, for i am sure she would be deeply offended. she was standing there, looking straight into my eyes. i am not much of a face reader, but i just couldn’t stand there with her look piercing through me, giving me a brief glimpse into that seeming dark void that existed behind those big, black, beautiful eyes.
hate is a strong word. and a much stronger emotion. and i normally try to do without it. but i hate it when dogs look me in the eye. they seem to be asking me a thousand unasked questions. they seem to hold me responsible for what my fellow humans do to their species. which isn’t entirely wrong, for it is said that the total is but a reflection of the individual.
they seem to accuse me of being selfish. i think i am. we all are. we have been conditioned by all around us, by the system, to think of everything in terms of their ‘utility’. it is a malady of the homo sapiens. even a little child in school is made to learn thing like the ‘utilties’ of, say ‘herbs’, or ‘cattle’ and so on.
so i stand there, my heart overcome with a sort of an upheaval looking at that miserable she-dog. one finds them everywhere in india, the wretched street dogs. i see them mostly around tea-shops, hoping someone will feed them a biscuit or two. so i buy a few biscuits and approach her, and immediately she start running away from me.
its the fear. the fear of us vile humans. someone must have hurt her. she goes quite a distance and waits, looking carefully at every single movement of mine. she seems quite used to this sort of a manoeuvre, i walk a few steps in her direction, place the food on the earth, amd move away, sipping my morning cuppa chai. this time, it is my turn to wait and observe. very slowly, very cautiously, she moves towards the food. one step at a time. each time, she looks around to make sure she is well out of any harm’s way. the moment she grabs the biscuits in her mouth, she moves to a corner. apparently her territory, for she seems to feel safe enough there. safe enough to quickly gobble to food atleast, for she is still seems wary. and no sooner than she has had her tiny meal, she quickly scampers off to god knows where.
“thank you, my dear friend”, i say to myself, “for giving me a chance, however small, to redeem myself. and my race”
this time last year, i seem to have been pretty merry. thankfully, for me, life seems to go on, with only the occasional down (like last evening. that was DOWN!)
but the ball bounces back, and i am as good as ever! its lent for the bum, weekdays AND weekends. so this time around, theres NO wine (boo hoo!) and a lot less dining. as for the third bit, i don’t think i care much anyways. i think its just way too hyped.
and i am grateful for –
1) s – for having having taught me to what extent i could possibly hurt others around me. it was an eye-opener.
2) my mommy, for calling me every single day, and not sulking one moment, including on the days when i am too bored/tired/effed in the head to talk to you.
3) a – for making the weekend something to look forward to!
4) the ‘stranger’ (who isn’t, now) – for having tested my patience. it was badly needed, for patience, is a weak point for the bum!