Puppy Endings

It takes an overwhelming moment to kick you out of a self-imposed reverie. Of late, things have been moving pretty fast and with the multitasking slowly affecting my health, it has been a crazy start to this year. Not that I am complaining, but there are some things that I miss so much. I miss staying up late and gobbling an entire book just because it is tough to keep it down; I miss watching back to back episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and How I Met Your Mother; I miss the smell of the musty watercolor paint box when I start painting; I miss the sane life. Unfortunately, there is not much I can do about it so the dull ache of memories is a constant companion.

Lately, I had something to look forward to - the friendly street dog had given birth to a puppy and was the cynosure of all eyes. Everyone would lean out of the window and watch with excitement as the puppy first opened his eyes, took the first steps and after a few days, bounced around happily.

The windows which had watched its progress each day now started dropping little pieces of biscuits, bread and  fish bones. The enterprising young kid in the building finally gave it a name - Guddu. It became a weekend ritual for me to go downstairs and sit besides him while he went around his daily activity of toppling over the water saucer, dig the lawn and look longingly at the windows for his treat.


Then one fine day, he disappeared. Guddu's mother's howls all night were a constant reminder of the pain and loss. It goes without saying that I was very upset by this turn of events; it felt as if every good thing in the world is meant to be temporary, ultimately meant to leave you with memories that would sustain happiness only for as long as your optimism lasts.


While I was contemplating putting up his picture on Facebook in case anyone spotted him, a familiar yelp had me rushing to the window. And there he was, looking upwards with a limp foot, a few scratches but the same bright eyes staring back at me. The milk-soaked bread came out, so did the biscuits and the water. So did our emotions of elation at seeing Guddu back with us. Good things being temporary is not always a bad thing, I suppose. They stay around us long enough to miss them when they are gone and realize what we will miss if we continue to make the same mistakes.

For now, it is all celebrations around me. The doctor has assured us it is not a fracture and Guddu is on the path to recovery. Here are the pics of the little tyke who made me write this post and update the blog after two long months :) It was a puppy ending after all.

Evident From My Blog Title

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

~Anatole France

Life has a strange timing of granting your wishes- it makes them come true when you are spewing cynicism and the light at the end of the tunnel seems like another mirage. The break that I have been cribbing about landed on my lap when I had come to accept the monotony of my life.

Although the planning had been on for a week, given my reputation of flopped plans [:D], I tried not to get overtly excited about the whole thing. As the week progressed, I saw the location change three times and the number of people dwindle from ten to five. Had it not been for a very determined group of five people desperate to make it a success, this trip would never had happened. And I am glad, it did not fall apart.

We did the usual touristy things- roamed around the market, shopped for sovereigns, saw the same mountain from five different points/locations and went boating. There were moments when we simply sat on the edge, looked across the horizon, five people lost in thoughts and musings of their own.

I realised I travel differently- the excitement of seeking familiarity is more than that of discovering new places. Here, staring out of the window opening to a postcard-perfect view, I could not help thinking about settling there and writing a book, roaming around on cold mornings in the twisted alleys, cupping hot tea glasses for warmth and reading Robert Frost poems in the dead of night.

My memories are not of the perfect landscapes I witnessed but of laughing till my sides hurt, of endless brooding over life's unnecessary complications, of comfortable silences and of feeling something stir within. This is what I seek in a trip and from what I know, the journey has just begun.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less traveled by

And that has made all the difference.

~ Robert Frost

Numb

***There are a lot of things going on in my head as I sit down to jot this post and you are advised to not proceed if you have trouble stomaching rants. You have been suitably warned.***

Of all the things, I hate this numbness, the complete inability to feel things does not even allow me to be miserable. Every day I wake up, I genuinely believe that some turn of events might shake off this feeling of not being able to feel anything, to feel the familiar sense of warmth tingle your toes. And every day I crash onto bed, sore with disappointment.

When you are sixteen, there are so many things you plan for yourself, some impossible and some within reach, but you are your own hero at that age. Today, if I were to have a heart-to-heart with my self year old self, she would simply sigh at her naivety. When you are young (Oh man, I sound like a fifty year old ), the world is projected as something up for grabs. There are clear cut definitions of black and white; there were no greys to confound you. You take up a path fearlessly even though it has 'danger' signs posted everywhere. You shall never, ever hesitate to call a spade a spade.

Maybe as we grow up, we unnecessarily clutter our mind with complexities, the what-ifs, the could-haves, the general feeling of disillusionment about the world. Over the last few months, I had to take some really tough decisions and believe me,taking a decision is easy; it is what follows later is difficult to deal with. Not a single day has passed without me thinking about what could have happened if have not taken that path. I think of all the stressful moments, I think of the silent tears shed and I think of the hearty laugh, now so rare and there is this impulse to reverse your decision.

Believe me, sticking to your decision is not easy; your mind is your worst enemy and loneliness your best friend. A long way into the path, however, you are surprised at how much strength we are capable of. We come to accept the fact that irrespective of whether your decision is right or wrong, it is your very own decision. I think a few years from now on, I shall be thankful for this phase in my for making me stronger and that day I shall be at peace with myself for what I did. Because you see, irrespective of whatever happens, I have enough faith in myself to believe that I will be alright.