The mountain sat upon the plain
In his eternal chair,
His observation omnifold,
His inquest everywhere.

The seasons prayed around his knees,
Like children round a sire:
Grandfather of the days is he,
Of dawn the ancestor.
-Emily Dickinson

I am still the way I always have been.

Sometimes the giggling, mushy soul….the one who loves all her baubles…and sometimes the arse kicking, cold hearted one who refuses to take nonsense from someone just because I am a woman..therefore supposed to be ‘softer’ and more likely to forgive than you.

I am a woman.
And so darn proud of it.

You are the reason why.

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. ~Anaïs Nin

And most of all… because you are more of a feminist than I ever was. More than I ever thought possible.

Thank you for being you baby.

Wait Ma! let me adjust the saree pleats…
Why are you not wearing your heels?

*sigh* What will you do without me Ma?

You, my dawter, are a drama queen.

Conversations and fashion queries over the phone
Which bindi will go with this saree?
*sigh*Which saree ma?

You remember that temple border one? Amber-ish?

Oh!okay. I have kept everything on the table in my room . Your jewelery, bindis everything.

—————————————————————————————————————-

An old relative says, She looks just as you did at her age.

We look at each other with plain amazement.
Really?
Is the resemblance so striking?

The way she looks on fascinated when people say I resemble her….She finds a part of herself in my laugh…

She is petite. I am not.
She is delicate. I am not.
She is patient. Very. I am not.
She is a singer. A beautiful one. I am not.

And yet there are so many traces of her in me.

The bookaholic in me? That’s her to a T.

The one who hoards old stuff for sentimental reasons? That’s her too.

Who argues incessantly for what she believes in. Her again.

———————————————————————————————————-
The good qualities? You get all those from my side of the family she says with a twinkle in her eyes….
Just to rile dad.

That bluntness, that impatient stubbornness ? You get it from him.

—————————————————————————————————————

What will be, will be….
The philosophy of the most special person in my life. The one whom I love the most. Have loved ever since I could understand what this emotion meant.

I have written about my loved ones on these pages. Jotted down everything I possibly could. About a father who is such a bundle of contradictions and my first ‘hero’:). About two brothers who mean the world to me. And the hell we all have been through together.Of the loony times this family has had.I have written about the four-legged baby of the family. In short I have written about everyone.

But I have not written about one person. One who means the world to me. One who is the gentlest soul I have ever known. A petite lady who looks so young that people have been forced to ask. Really?? You have a son in the army?Your daughter’s getting married?:O

Its the toughest to write about her. What do I write? Where do I start? Our relationship is complicated. We have gone through the ups and downs together . Many of them.

——

Hers is the shoulder I have cried on. Many a time.

The way our relationship has evolved. From that of a mother and daughter to one where we were best friends forever:) To that of two women standing almost equal. Trying to understand what makes the other happy. Trying to absorb the other’s pain.

Of how the world sometimes is not fair. That is the time we have had each other to hold on to. When no man in the world could understand what we were going through. When even dad and the two brothers have been unable to understand completely. Because they cant. Only we both do.

The way we both sometimes say bah!men! and give that disgusted look to the men of our family. They aint no match for us ma.:D
—–

—–

The way your eyes light up when you talk of your firstborn. Your daughter. The memories that you share with me. Of how ecstatic you and dad were. Its a sight to see ma. That happiness of yours.

—–
I know how hurt you were when a 12 year old girl wrote ‘I hate her’ in her ‘secret’ diary.
All because she had not been given permission to go for some school picnic.
You saw it lying in my room and picked it up with a smile thinking that you would read about crushes.
What you read instead broke your heart for a moment.
But you never said anything.
You came to me with a smile and kissed me goodnight.

You knew this was a phase. that I would get over it.
And I did.

——
Then a phase where you said ”we both will be best friends okay?’ with the cutest smile ever. ‘Promise?’.
I nodded my head, more than happy to be part of this conspiracy. More than happy to exclude the three ‘boys’ of our family.
And we invented our own secret handshake.:D

You and I would discuss everything under the sun. From studies to the debates I lost to the games I won.
From teachers I hated to the boys I thought I was in ‘love’ with.

And through it all, one constant reminder of yours.
Life goes on. Everything is temporary.Success, failure, disappointment.

—-

The way you gently guided me through all the changes I was going through. Emotional and biological.
And I was so confused and unsure. But never scared. Never that. For, you were always there beside me.

I have never seen a more sunny spirit than you Ma. Never have I seen you wake up grouchy. Mornings in our home have always been cheerful and mini talkathons. Because of you.

The way we kids would wake up in a jiffy because dad was going to office and we had to be awake on time to show him that we were not ‘lazybones’.
The way you would tell us with a conspiratorial grin,”go back to sleep’ the moment dad stepped out of the house.

Or how about our time in Mhow? When dad would wake up three little kiddos who would sit up all bleary eyed.
The way dad would almost shoo us out of the house at 5:30 in the morning believing in that age old credo of early to bed and early to rise. And the way barely 15 minutes later you would let us in through the garden. Sneakily.:D

—–
The way I would bunk college just so we could sit with each other and have a cuppa of chai and gossip our heart out?

Hoe many times have I bunked college just because you gave me that look that said,” hey lets go for a movie today? Or how about going to explore Delhi”?

We have had fun haven’t we ma? Together we have explored every corner of this city.
The history student in you who listens enraptured to the guide who rambles on and on about the fort. I am trying to pull you. Come on ma!I can tell you these facts later na?

Shhh! Stand here and imagine how it must have been hundreds of years before.Breathe in the air. You are walking where kings and queens once lived. Where the Praja came to the king to tell him about their woes. These walls can tell you so many tales.Can you feel the magic ?

I simply smile.
No Ma. The magic is not in the place . Its in you. The history student, the wanderer, the dreamer who finds a magical place wherever she goes.

——
Sometimes when out of the blue, the way you just come upto me and say,” you don’t ever stop working ?Okay? you hear me?” wagging that finger in my face. ”Okay ma,” I say with a smile. Because I am trying to understand your fears. You are apprehensive, unsure…of how your little girl is going to live on her own. If your little girl’s prince charming will always keep her happy.
You know he will. You have met him. You know him. And yet a corner of your heart is never sure.

And you will never be sure. I know that too. You will keep worrying till I am 60.

And then sometimes when you say,” dont ever lose who you are.” .Whats going through your mind Ma?Which fears?

She wakes up really late. She doesn’t know how to cook. She is so impatient. She doesn’t even know how to wear a saree. What will she do at all those formal do’s? She is so naive.
Random thoughts that keep going through your head. They make you worry so much.

Because no one knows your daughter the way you do.

——
The way we both give each other ‘those’ looks at weddings and parties. The one that only both of us ‘get’.
Gossip, criticism, admiration, plain girlish nonsense…all of it conveyed with just a look.(maybe we would be better off with the CIA Ma:D)

Our traditions.The ones you and I have made. Girls night out. Movies, lunches, dinners and no guys ‘allowed’. No matter how much *ahem*the three of them ‘plead’.

——
Sometimes when you get on my case. Determined that you will teach me how to cook even if it takes a lifetime. You dont know how to cook!!! you say with a horrified look.(the horrified look is so Ekta Kapoor-ish Ma!! I say)

And just when we both are going to get into an argument about feminism and all the hoo ha.. you undergo a mood change and say ,”Oh well. Even I didn’t know how to cook when I got married .” ”He knows how to cook na? Thats good enough for now” you say with a mile wide grin and a wink.

——
The only time I have seen you helpless is when I have wrapped myself in a cocoon and withdrawn from everyone. That is the time I have seen you sit by my side silently. Unable to do anything and yet unwilling to leave me alone.

I cannot imagine what goes through a mother’s heart when she sees her child in pain. Of what it does to her when she sees her child in tears and is unable to do anything about it. I can only imagine.

Such times have been hell for you . I know. I know the murderous rage you feel for those who have made your daughter cry.

——-
She is a singer. My mother. A philosopher too. And the one whom everyone comes to in times of crisis.

My school and college friends who would come for night stays and would whisper and gossip with my mom. They felt at home with this charming confidante who was unlike any mother they had seen.

She sings. Twenty four seven.:) And has a voice that justifies the degree she has in vocal music. Dad also sings. All the time. And between the two of them and their fav line said with a woebegone face ,” if only our children also sang *sigh* ‘‘ and three kids who are nowhere close to being singers(of any sort!!) life in our home is darn interesting at all times.:D

The way she deflects that age old question with such ease,” Who is your most fav among us Ma?” Gah! You should have been a politician Ma!!.!:P

She always has a cure for our hurts. And our worries. Sometimes she will get up in the middle of the night and just come and sit beside me. And just look .

What is going through her mind? I don’t know. I can just guess. Is she thinking of how her daughter will be leaving in just a few months to make a home of her own?

We mothers are learning to mark our mothering success by our daughters’ lengthening flight.
~ Letty Cottin Pogrebin

She is happy…beyond happy all because her daughter has found the ‘One’. She is proud of her daughter’s choices in life. From studies to professional to personal. The only one who supported her daughter’s choice of becoming a teacher wholeheartedly. She is proud of her daughter and the woman she has grown up to be.

But there is a momentary pang she goes through when she hears his mother asking me to call her mom. She is happy. But its a strange kind of happiness. She is happy that there is a family that is so loving. A family that loves her daughter like their very own.

And yet there’s a little yearning that she has deep inside. To be the only one in her daughter’s life. The way she was when I was a 12 year old.

I can see that anguish on your face Ma. And I want to tell you . That no one can take your place. Not now. Not ever.
But I don’t say anything. Neither do you. We are testing the waters here. Treading cautiously. This is new for both of us. All these new relationships.

You are trying to adjust yourself to the fact that your daughter has someone special in her life. Someone who has come to mean so much to her.

And you yearn. I know you do.
You yearn for those midnight conversations that we used to have once upon a time. Conversations that have now been missing for sometime because your daughter is blissfully lost in a world of her own.

A daughter is a mother’s gender partner, her closest ally in the family confederacy, an extension of her self. And mothers are their daughters’ role model, their biological and emotional road map, the arbiter of all their relationships. ~Victoria Secunda

You have let me make mistakes. You have cautioned me against certain things and still your stubborn headed daughter has gone ahead. And stumbled. Bigtime. And yet, never have you ever said I told you so. And for that I love you so much.

We have ‘hated’ and loved each other in equal measure. Shouted at each other like loonies. Gone off in a huff swearing to never ever talk to each other again.

And then the peace treaty. Offered with a cup of chai.:) Sometimes you and sometimes me. That’s what love is. And friendship too. And a belief that seeps into your very bones. That this right here is permanent. That no matter what I do, you will always be there.

Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that suppose to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing. ~Toni Morrison, Beloved, 1987

I will always be your little girl. In need of your home cooked food, your advice, your awesome collection of jewelery(:D) , your gorgeous sarees(;)) your warm hugs. And love. A lot of it. The soul stirring kind.

And this I will always keep in mind. For, you remind me of this often.
”Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where you backbone ought to be.”
There is a lot more to say. In the years ahead.

But for now…this one’s for you ma. Only for you.

Whether our relationship is strained or easy, hostile or amiable, we need [our mother] if only in memory or fantasy, to conjugate our history, validate our femaleness, and guide our way. We need to know she’s there if we stumble, to love us no matter what, to nurture the child that resides within us even now without infantalizing us.
- Victoria Secunda

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The pictures have been taken from Google. I apologize since I have lost the weblinks I took them from. If anyone has any objection, I will remove them.

Its because some want me to champion their cause, highlight their plight.
And when I visit the said site, I see some shady links that bring back forgotten history lessons .

b)a Muslim Apparently I hide behind the pseudonym ‘Indyeah’ and in reality I am this burqa wearing ,fierce muslim woman who knows the Quran by heart and wants to take over the world through Islam domination.

Exhibit A – Laicite post

c)a Bihari ( Wouldn’t mind being one except that I am not. Underdogs have my vote every single time. Period. )

d)Elitist (by which I gather the trolls refer to mythical beings who guzzle mineral water 24/7 and refuse to venture out of the AC comfort zone)

and/or

one of the English spouting fake liberals left behind as a sort of legacy by Macaulay and Co
(take your pick)

Why am I elitist?
Uh..let me think…
Whenever I write about how women should have the freedom to decide what they want to do, what they want to wear and the freedom to decide how they should protest.

How the youngsters should have the right to decide whom they want to spend their life with and why. And how NOONE else should ‘make’ the decisions for them. And how I don’t effing care about tradition however ‘glorious’ it might be.
Case in point- SRS, Khaps

d)a Nationalist neo nazi…

Okay first things first. First I want to shake the person who coined this term. Shake them till their teeth rattle . And then I want to scoff and say read my lips. I don’t effing care. Again.
Look up the meaning of Nazi why don’t you? Capiche?

(whoops! Italian. Anti- Kangressis pliss to forgive)

Also because I think SRK fooled us all.;)

Wait!Wait! One more!

ALSO because I tread upon..nay I crush the olive branch from time to time and don’t give a squat about Aman or Asha.

Waiting for the day when GOI runs out of patience.
Maybe my grand kids will witness this miracle. Hallejulah!

e)Non-secular As someone with abhorrence for the Congress (and ample posts to prove it ) this should not really surprise me.

You see its like this.

Psst! People! Pay close attention to the magic formula.

Anti-Congress= non- secular (oh the horror!!)
Anti Congress also = Pro BJP
(Dubya logic at work here)

Therefore dear friends, to drink from the Amrit kalash of pure, unadulterated secularism you HAVE to be a kaangressi.

Really people. Its not a hard decision to make is it?. Its hard to even find unadulterated water these days. You wont get a better deal than this.Trust me.

Apparently visions of Nelumbo_nucifera dance in my head.

f)Pseudo -secular Okay this makes me laugh.

Because I took great pains to define the darn term on my blog and then wham! you go and call me by the same name?

Apparently just criticizing the kaangresis aint enough.
Show some proof that you are not with them.
How?
Why! Join us.

Show this side some love.

*sigh*

————————————————————————————————————

Apparently I am all of the above and more.
I think I might discover another ‘me’ when I write another post.

———————————————————————————————–

PS:-Noone has accused me of being a Congress supporter till now.

One should be grateful for small mercies I suppose.;)

Most people don’t understand how someone can grieve so heavily over a lost pet. Society is just not comfortable with death, and grief. And when you are talking about an animal, even if a beloved pet, they really don’t get it. Your grievous loss is easily dismissed in their minds (“Good grief, it’s just a cat”).

From time to time, people tell me,
“lighten up, it’s just a dog,”
or, “that’s a lot of money for just a dog.”
They don’t understand the distance traveled,
the time spent, or the costs involved for
“just a dog.”
Some of my proudest moments have come about with
“just a dog.”
Many hours have passed and my only company was
“just a dog,”
but I did not once feel slighted.
Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by
“just a dog,”
and in those days of darkness,
the gentle touch of “just a dog”
gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.
If you, too, think it’s “just a dog,”
then you will probably understand phases
like “just a friend,” “just a sunrise,” or
“just a promise.”
“Just a dog” brings into my life the very essence
of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy.
“Just a dog” brings out the compassion and
patience that make me a better person.
Because of “just a dog” I will rise early,
take long walks and look longingly to the future.
So for me and folks like me, it’s not “just a dog”
but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams
of the future, the fond memories of the past,
and the pure joy of the moment.
“Just a dog” brings out what’s good in me and
diverts my thoughts away from myself and the
worries of the day.
I hope that someday they can understand that
it’s not “just a dog”
but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps
me from being “just a man.”
So the next time you hear the phrase “just a dog.”
just smile, because they “just don’t understand.”
-Author Unknown

This is about our Nanhi who taught us some very important lessons.:)

Mom says …remember the lessons for a lifetime Our bachchi came to teach us these.

Trying to figure out the camera

After so many tennis balls this giant basketball?
She was delighted that day.
S (younger bro and owner of the basketball) wasn’t:D
——————————–

“We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached.
Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain immortality,
never fully understanding the necessary plan.”

Irving Townsend.

Hearing a faint whine when there is none…the pitter patter of paws just around that corner….the sounds of digging in some corner of the house….that flash of black and white..did we just see her?

A whistling yawn….the kind she gave whenever she wanted to avoid a scolding…we just heard it didn’t we?

Stepping on something , removing your foot with a horrified look and then saying sorry baby ..thinking you have accidentally stepped on her tail…and then looking down and realizing that its just an old shoe box you have stepped on..

Mom waking up at night sometimes.. wondering if her nanhi just called her…

shifting your feet in your sleep so that she would be more comfortable…but she isnt there..the edge of the bed is empty..

Lying half asleep on the sofa and feeling this weight on your feet…just the way it felt when she would give a sigh and put her head there…

Dad leaving that last chapati for her still.

Younger bro saving a piece of his breakfast even now.

Mom sometimes…most times talking to her with a smile… bissi(biscuit) chahiye?…then a teary….be happy Nanhi ..wherever you are

A who used to say fondly..I come home just to meet her.
A would send birthday cards for her from IMA. She would sniff it like crazy because it smelled of her bhaiyya.

Sending cards to A when he was training. I and S trying our hardest to get Ash’s pawprint on the card.:)

My Nanhi. Our Nanhi

Getting a scolding. A was the only one she listened to
———————————————————–

She was not just a pet. Not just an animal. And I say this not because I loathe these words. On the contrary, if we, as a race, could be more like them we would be much better off.

I say this because she was not THE DOG. You know..the kind where one professes deep love for one’s furry friend and yet the furry friend is relegated to a corner of the house.
One passes them by without even realizing how that little being’s eyes are following you hopefully. Maybe you would play?
Maybe you will give a caress? A pat? A little treat to eat..in your palm? maybe?The tail wags a little in anticipation…
Hope…infinite hope in those eyes that see your soul.
Have you ever noticed?

Keeping ‘them’ is not just about giving them three meals a day. What of the love that they need and deserve? More than any human I know? Of the medical care they need? Medical care that goes beyond the ‘necessary’ rabies injection that we give for ‘our safety’?

Story of almost every home I have visited. Almost. That word gives me hope. For, there are many, many homes where there is much love for them.

But none of these words for her.
When she wanted to play she would come and make sure she got your attention. The little brat that she was.:)

If someday her bowl had no water due to some minion’s fault (Minions=Us in her dictionary:)) ,she would bark the house down. Where is my water? Where? Where? where? A string of barks would ensue.
She would push the steel bowl with her paw till it rattled your head off and you were forced to come running to attend to the maharani.:)

If one scolded her too much she would head straight for dad. Peeping from behind his legs…daring you to come any closer…knowing fully well that her dad would take care of these irritating siblings of hers.

Why is she standing infront of the kitchen?
Must be nine.
And it always was. On the dot.

Sometimes..infact most times when the little maharani wanted khaana early because she felt too hungry and would hop around in irritation…..and sometimes when she got up really late in winters and ate late as well.

Eating habits were changed according to season. No ordinary girl this.:)
Its making me smile as I am writing this.
Memories. All of them. Such sunny, cheerful memories of her.

———————–

LINK

The sense of loss is still almost overwhelming at times. It sneaks up at the darnedest times, blind-siding me while I’m thinking bout something else.

Our pets accept us as we are, whatever mood we are in. It doesn’t matter if we’re wearing old sweats or having a bad hair day.

They don’t judge us – they just love us. It is enough for them that we feed them, and love them, and that we are there.

When we lose that unconditional love and acceptance, we lose a part of ourselves. We can feel as though we have no value, no one to care for, no one who cares for us.

Often, writing about those feelings can help get them out and keep them from festering inside you – the pain, the grief, the sadness, the anger.

Right now, I feel like there’s a hole in my heart – a big empty place in my chest – though maybe it’s not completely empty because it hurts so much. When my little friend died she took a piece of me with her.

Sometimes it feels like she took the best part.

…but I know that though it hurts right now, things will get better. Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but they will get better.

As when any loved one dies, the world goes on, the sun comes up, and we do, eventually, stop hurting. We never forget them, but if we find ways to heal, we do learn to remember them without the pain.

We find we can celebrate all the wonderful moments we shared, and one day we may even find room in our hearts to share with another the love they so freely shared with us.

———————————————————————————-

Whenever her vet would come home to give the yearly injections she would bark and keep backing away…it was cute to watch..
She liked him.
Hospital smell on him? Not so much.

Never uttered so much as a squeak when he gave the injections. She would instead wag her tail even more wildly as if the injections were some sort of a treat.
Mad loony…psycho she is Bro would shake his head and say with a fond grin.

Mom would proudly tell dad…none of our kids ever troubled us during their childhood hospital visits and even this one doesn’t. Dad would smile as fondly.

This from a couple who had never kept pets. Had grown up around them but never had any of their own. The first time they had had pets of their own was when their little kids got two rabbits home many years back. Mom had scolded and then after finding a good (and better ) home for them had gifted them to a more caring person.
(At the time the three of us thought she was Cruella Deville. )

This couple which was so apprehensive about getting a little one home.

And when they finally did, they fell head over heels in love.

They gave their hearts forever. They became new parents once again.

————————————————————————————————-

You are not crazy if you feel the spirit of your animal close to you, hear them speak to you, or see their image. These experiences are normal and common, both among people who’ve lost their animal loved ones and those who’ve lost their human loved ones. Some call these experiences hallucinatory, or paranormal. Because this term connotes “almost, but not quite normal” I prefer to use the terms metaphysical or spiritual for these experiences. The dictionary defines para as “closely resembling, or almost,” and defines meta as “more comprehensive or transcending.” Feeling the energy or the spirit of our deceased loved ones is not an almost normal experience, it’s a normal experience–a comprehensive, transcendent experience of the heart, not an aberration of the mind. Love doesn’t die, only matter dies, so of course we can still feel the loving presence of our animals in various ways. Let it comfort and soothe you.

[LINK]

———————————————————————————

Shona, Nanhi, Beta, Golu, Sundar…all these and more…names that we called her by.

Khaana chahiye? (want to eat?) Tamatar(tomato), Anda(egg), dhoodhu(milk), Bissi(biscuit), Bone, Stick, ball, khelna hai?(want to play?)
Ghoomne chalein? Walkie walkie?

All words that she understood and loved.

pitti ho jaayegi( you will get a whack) was greeted with a bored yawn. She knew exactly which ones were just empty threats.

Sit, lie down and stay were treated with disdain and done (once in a blue moon if she ‘felt’ like it) with this huge sigh as if we had asked her to move a mountain.

The implication was ,”my idiotic bhaiyya and didi ..I am doing this just once. No more of this silliness for another month. Capiche?”

We stopped after a while. It felt as if a circus training was going on. And that, we all hated..
So the list of ‘commands’ that she knew remained confined to 4.

But her vocabulary? Oh boy! That was amazing. The multilingual baby could understand so much.

Those who worked in this field and knew how things were to be done were amazed.
After some questions about her childhood and the kind of environment she grew up in, they informed us that a household that spends all of its time with these little ones and more importantly talks to them all the time….involving them in every conversation…taking care of them like a human baby ..in such a household they were going to be at their brilliant best.Their minds would be constantly thinking.

Thinking? we wondered.
Yeah mischief 24×7 mom said with a laugh.

——————————————————————————

Didi ko bula ke laao. (call didi)..She would come straight to my room and stand next to me..and promptly lie down to get a tummy rub. Having forgotten all about the purpose of coming.

Bhaiyya kahaan hai? A kahaan hai?At first she would get all excited. Bhaiyya is here? A? Where ?where? her eyes would say. She would run around the house trying to find him.Going to each room, , standing at the main door, Peering from the balcony.

Mom would get irritated with us. Mere bachche ko tang mat karo ! (dont trouble my kid) she would fume.

Koi nahi hai shona. Jhooth bol rahe hain.(There’s no one darling. They are lying) She would tell Ash in a soothing tone.

From then on Ash learnt that if something needed to be corroborated , mom was the person to ask.
So the next time we said bhaiyya aaya hai kya? (Has Bhaiyya come? Or Dekho chooha/Chipkali !! ( see! a rat/lizard! ) Ash would quietly look at mom , mom would say jhoothi jhoothi baat nanhi…so jaao (all lies lil one, go off to sleep)

And she would go off to sleep with a sigh. Reassured that her mom would never lie to her.

Shundar kis ko pyaari chahi? These and other such words would refer to getting her ears fondled or her tummy rub or a body massage on her delicate little body…and she knew the words for these rather well:)

Afternoons spent reading Marley and me to her. Hey this loony beats you hands down. Wait! no! no! You have done crazier stuff than this! Her look said,”what in god’s name are you yammering about?” She would give a bored yawn. Wondering if her didi had lost it.

Ash prancing around in delight. Ecstatic at this group dancing that was going on.
Me. Picking up her front paws and dancing with her.

Making up loony tunes and singing along . Her woofs added a whole new dimension to the songs:)

Playing hide and seek with her. When her brows would furrow in this cute manner and she would apply her brains trying to find us in every nook and cranny.

Those hilarious times when she would come trotting to me with a chew stick or a bone and plop it at my feet, looking at my plate and saying lets exchange our food shall we?

Baby talk in the house. Everyone was a baby since the last 10 years 9 months. She made us that way. Talking to her in a lilting tongue.

Memories…so many of them…
Mom saying with so much love in her voice….choti bachchi kahaan hai?
(Where is the little one?)

The little one’s eyes shining with love and her tail going thump thump .The brat was feeling too lazy to get up.:)

Cheesed off with us. Refusing to look at us. A camera? oh well.Thats okay then:)

———————————————————————————————

Then there was this one incident. Most don’t believe me. Very few ….the ones who have a little one of their own do.

Lazy winter afternoon….a quiet house…

Ash lying down and happily doing something with her chew-stick…lost in her own world. Eating it like it was manna from heaven..holding it delicately between her front paws….

Mom sitting next to her and reading something…

I, sneaking up behind Ash till I was ‘this’ close to her ears and then shoutingASH in the loudest voice imaginable.:D

She jumped out of her skin. Got up, ran to mom and then turned around to look at who the enemy was.

She saw me and gave this hurt look. (Madame was a drama queen)

Sayingyou! I didn’t expect this from you. Not bhaiyya but you ? My didi??

Cajoling her to look at me ..saying..Alle baby..sorry….…..getting a scolding from mom as well..why did you trouble Nanhi?

After some pampering(lots) and more treats to eat, she was happy again.
————————————
———————————————
————————————————–

An hour passes…….

Mom’s watching tv. I am reading a book. Ash is nowhere to be seen.

Till mom sees Ash stealthily making her way like some WW 2 soldier over to where her didi was engrossed in a book.

Mom puts down the remote and leans forward for a better view. She grins . She has a good idea of whats coming. Noone knows Nanhi better than she does.

Ash sneaks up till she is just a breath away from my ears and goes WOOF! Right IN my ear.
Ever heard a Dal’s woof ? Deep, intimidating, loud and scary as hell. Specially when its about two inches from your ear.
My heart stops beating for a second and the book goes flying out of my hands.

Mom is too busy laughing. Holding her sides and saying well done nanhi!

Nanhi gives a lopsided grin. One that says aint I the smart one? Mess with me will you?

Her eyes shine with absolute delight. mission accomplished they say.
And she proudly trots back to her original place. Tail up. Royal walk in place.
Satisfied with her ‘revenge’. The badla is over.

Mom gives another treat to her Nanhi. For a job well done.:)

—-

This was retold by mom to both bros and dad later. She still laughs hilariously over this.

Nanhi was right at the top of her class.Her mischievous mind was forever cooking up something new .:)
——————————————————————–

Hours were spent pondering over which colour of collar to buy. Her first one was blue. Baby blue.

Then a black one ..then a red collar.
She would still look like a pup when we would put that blue one after so many years.

Mom and dad carefully choosing her things.
This will hurt her. This will pinch her neck. OMG!This is too barbaric! People make their little ones wear this? Mom asked in horror upon seeing a collar with spikes.

Which bowl? Which toy? This ball will get stuck in her throat. This one is too soft. She will chew it to little bits and choke on them.

Her coat which was chosen by mom after hours of poring over the choices.

Maroon would suit her right?

Yes ma. I wailed. Anything to get us home.
Mom took her own sweet time. After all, it was about her youngest baby.

———————————————————————————-

Mom and Ash coming with us till the school bus stop.
Ash would be fine till we boarded the bus.

THEN she would go mad barking her head off.

Her little heart must have been terrified we realized.
To see her bhaiyyas and didi being devoured by this gigantic monster?
She was all in a hackles rising and teeth baring mode. This little ‘pup warrior’ of 6 months.:)

———————————————————————————————-
Younger bro S who was barely 12 , swelling with pride when the kids in the bus went alle…so cute…kiska pup hai? I want to play with him.
S correcting them with a deliberately adopted casual tone ..Its not a him . Its a her. She is the new baby.

——————————————————————————————–

Mom taking Ash for a walk and when her Nanhi did her ‘thing’:D Mom going ga ga and saying Good girl! What a good girl you are! Achchi bachchi! mera shona.
In the hope that this would become a regular feature and the little one would be toilet trained.
It was another matter that other people out for their evening walks thought that the lady with a dalmatian was a nutty one.:D

———————————————————————————

All of us sitting in the garden with Ash playing in the middle. Sniffing new things and chasing butterflies.

Suddenly she started digging.

I went to stop her because her paws seemed too soft for the hard earth.(okay thats a lie.:) I went to stop her because knowing the little princess I knew the whole garden would be a MESS.:)

Dad stopping me and saying let her do what she likes. She is enjoying it.

Withing a span of 10 minutes the entire garden had been dug up. I and bros giving dad that horrified look Now what?

Mom saying with a twinkle in her eyes…..maybe she was looking for a bone?

And then my parents simply get up…cool as you please…pick Ash up and head inside with a make sure those holes are filled up thrown over their shoulder.

I and both bros muttering something about being slaves to this pup and getting down to work.

—————————————————–

Then this incident in school. I was in 11th. Best friend (the one who gifted Ash to me) was in my class as well.

The class teacher making me stand up asking why my assignments had not been done.

I, explaining to her earnestly (too earnestly) how I had a small pup, how they were like babies and how I stayed up all night coz the pup was ill.

Okay sit down.

After a few minutes, D( my best friend) being asked Why haven’t you submitted your assignments D?

D saying in all seriousness…I have three pups and a new mother at home and they were ill yesterday and I had to stay up to look after them.

The teacher giving both of us the most incredulous look possible.

Looking at me, then looking at D.

”I took my pup from her. the rest of the pups are still with her”.I tried to explain helpfully.

The teacher didn’t say a word.

A grim Okay..

After 15 minutes it was the turn of S.
D’s family friend and our classmate as well.

He got up and started explaining…ma’am I have a little two moth old pup and he is just not eating right…

By this time our teacher had had enough.

Three kids in the class and all of em having pup troubles?

She marched the three of us outside .

Don’t lie to me. Think about your lies long and hard.
The three of us laughing like loons after she had left.

We should have thanked god I suppose that D had only given pups to two of her friends .

Any more and our parents would have been called.

——————————————————————————————

The first time she barked. We all came running. Who barked ? we all looked at each other. Wondering if it was our baby ‘speaking’ for the first time or some other dog that was nearby.
We tried to peer outside the kitchen garden.
The little imp busy peering with us too.:)

Then she barked again. Just like that.

Mom fussing over her like crazy.
Alle mera bachcha barkie barkie karta hai?
Phir se karo. Phir se karo nanhi.
And then a whole lot of gibberish cooing sounds mom made over her little baby.
And then a whole lot of treats for her.
Hide bones, chew sticks, balls, toys,…you name it…

———–

The lesson learnt by Nanhi’s brilliant brain?

Bark and you get a treat.
It doesn’t matter if there is nothing worth barking, just bark.
And voila! Purpose solved! Treats galore.

And so till the last day of her 11 years, she would go to the balcony or the front door or just anywhere in general (sometimes while standing right infront of us) and give a huge woof and then come and look at us expectantly.
There ! I did that favorite thing of yours. NOW can I get something people?

Bro would grin and sayyou naatak! What will you do if a thief actually comes?

——————————————————————-

But madam was very particular about her precious jaan.

On normal days she would bark on and off for trivial reasons. A bird, a squirrel, a pigeon…a cat…anything that moved… the watchman who would be draped in a blanket from top to bottom in winters would arouse her suspicions the most(just about the only intelligent thought she had)

Unlike some animals that are sensitive to loud noises on Diwali, madam would go to the balcony and bark at every cracker she would see in the sky.
We had to keep her confined inside on Diwali so she would be safe from stray rockets.

But other than on diwali, if there ever was a loud boom/noise/sound…THEN out little warrior would sidle upto mom and would walk glued to her…as if saying errmmmm…you check out this weird sound first. I am right behind you mom.:D

—————————-

Her bed .
And S’s bedsheet:) The brat loved it much.

But she preferred the other bed.
Her little razai (quilt) that mom made for her and her bed that dad picked out himself.
Not the regular ready made bed for dogs. But one that was made rectangular so unlike other dogs she would have room to spread herself and sleep.

These round beds look too small for her.
She wont always sleep curled up will she?Why the round shape for dogs then? Dont these manufacturers know dogs? Silly guys!! Mom would say all this in one single breath.

But Ash would get bored of both after sometime.,

The catch was that her bed and quilt would appear ‘tempting’ to her ONLY IF she saw one of us taking it away (presumably for our own use in her mind)
Suddenly the same things started appearing very attractive to her.

The same would happen when she wouldn’t eat something.

She wasn’t eating a biscuit?

One of us would take another biscuit..take it near our mouth and pretend to eat it.

Suddenly the little brat wanted the biscuits desperately.:)

She liked icecream. But vanilla only please. The rest were sniffed and looked at with a ‘so beneath me‘ look.

—————————————————————————————–

Many had advised us (dog experts as well) to feed her after we had eaten. The logic being that one should have ‘command’ over the situation and to not let the animal feel as if it was the master of the house.

Mom was horrified. Give her food after we have eaten?
While she is looking at us? Eat while she is still hungry?


That is nothing short of a sin! To not feed a hungry child is disgusting!

She was always fed on time (and before, after and in between meals:D)

——————————————————————————–

I am calm. I am serene. I am the Budddha.

———————————————————————————–

Some saw her as simply ‘a dog’, some saw her as ‘just a pet’, some saw her as ‘a dalmatian’….the price tag danced around their head…intent always on asking us when she would have pups if ever …

Mom would look horrified …give my baby’s kids to these people?

She would somehow control her expression and then fume after the guests had left.
But ma! Ash is not going to have pups na.
I know but still the sheer gall of these people! Look at how they treat the dog they do have. And they want another little being!
Her mutterings would go on for an hour…or more..

Very few saw our little baby as we did.

I can count them on my fingers. Those who would go mad playing with her. Those who would talk to her. Those who would sit and give her a belly rub …sitting on the floor and giggling like mad at some antic of hers. Those who knew that she was upset with them. Or trying to say something to them with her eyes.

The family that gifted her to us. My best friend’s parents. Who first came to our home to see how we were as a family. To see how much space we had. To see whether we were ‘animal people’.

They kept coming to check on their baby even afterwards.

Mom loved them for it. She would say this is how you take care of your little ones.

Ash’s mother who is still with them. Pebbles her name is. She is quiet and dignified. Her daughter on the other hand was pure looniness:)

We, who cant seem to pick up the courage to go and visit them.

How will we control our emotions when a refection of our beloved face comes in front of us?

They are mourning Nanhi too. They must be holding Pebbles a little closer at night.

——————————————————————————————

There are so many memories of her.

Ash as a pup.
Sheer cuteness.

First day in our home.

Five human beings. All following one little pup around the house. It was hilarious to watch. If an outsider could have seen us that day.:)

Going to all the corners and doing her favourite thing;)
Dad asking in horror what IS she doing?
I, with all my bookish gyaan saying something about her marking her territory.

Dad responding with a wry she has to do that ALL OVER the house?

Ash’s little bed and her shivering in a corner. Mom worried as hell and racking her brains on what to cover her with. The little woollen cover was just not helping.

Mom’s best shawl…. ..that helped:D

————————-

Ash suckling in her sleep. Like a little baby.
Mom getting guilt pangs over it. Dad too.
MAJOR guilt pangs.

I and both brothers more worried about whether this would mean taking ‘our pup’ back to her mom.

Till finally to our relief , our Nanhi settled down a little more on the second day.

She suckled in her sleep till she was about a year old. And it got to mom each time.

We separated her from her mother! Mom would say with a guilty look.

But ma she had to be weaned.
We brought her home when she was about one and a half months old.

Ample time..healthy time period , the vet had assured us , to get the new baby home.

Hyperactive. Loony. Plain crazy was more like it.
She definitely didn’t take after her biological mom. Must be her dad then, we guessed.

Later the same lines in Marley and me would make me grin and ask her so you take after your dad huh? Why couldn’t you have taken after your mom? She would respond by looking at dad and mom as if saying
But my dad and mom are right here. See? Over there on the sofa
Puzzled at why I was talking about her mom and dad.

Mom and dad had made us promise one thing. She shouldn’t affect your studies. Apart from that spend all your time with her. But remember….
Yeah! studies should be purrfect! we would say with a sigh.

—————————————————————-
She was possessive about her family.
But she was most possessive about mom.

The moment any of us would go to mom and hug her tight and say ”yeh meri mamma hai.” , she would come running to push us away and have her mom all to herself.
Trying desperately to get her nose in between this tight group hug that she hated.

She wanted her mom all to herself.
—————————-

Slippers would be chewed off. Not a trace of them left. Unless you looked for them in some hidden corner. (I personally think she was a mouse in her earlier birth)

The one whose slippers had been chewed off would walk around barefoot for a day or more. Serves you right! the others would say with glee. Its not her fault. Its yours. Why did you leave them on the floor?

Ash meanwhile grinning happily at having successfully devoured another slipper.

Slippers would be on top of wooden racks. Almirahs.. Anywhere but the floor.
I think some guests thought we were a mad family when they saw slippers on our table once. We had forgotten to pick it up before the guests entered:D)

Wood was her favorite. Bed legs would be gnawed at till someone came running. Worried if she had any splinters in her mouth.

Cheese boxes looked like they had been riddled with bullets.
We can make a lampshade out of this bro suggested helpfully.

Everything was meant to be put in her mouth according to her little puppy brain.

You sure she has no goats in her family? bro would say with a wry grin.

Playing madly in the living room and breaking one of mom’s favourite vase..one of a set of four. We three were horrified.

Till mom and dad came home and simply smiled.
Dad sat and glued the pieces together painstakingly.

These days we look at the vase fondly.

The vase…all glued together has become another precious memory of hers. A memory to be shared at family dinners and with guests.

——————–

Ash at a few months old suffering from high fever. Taking her to the vet and putting ice packs on that tiny body. Two assistants applying ice packs and dad, bro and I tearing up because she looked so helpless.

Ash at 8 months old and a swollen face and swollen ears…..Her silky floppy ears had become thick as sponge…as if a swarm of bees had attacked her. Panic in the house.

But we didn’t let her go out alone. She was with me the whole day mom said tearfully.
Dad coming from office , hurriedly changing his shirt and rushing his baby to the clinic.
An allergy from some plant, we later learnt from the vet.

———————————————
————————————————————–

But she never fell ill ever again. Only that high fever and allergy in her childhood.
All these years spent as if she aspired to to be the winner for the pup forever award. Not so much as a cold.
Little sniffles yes. But nothing major.

Till this year.

She underwent an operation for Pyometra on 5th July ’10.

Mom and I sat outside waiting for it to get over. Mom reciting a shloka to help calm her mind and holding a tiny picture of her god.

Right after the operation Ash woke up from her anesthesia …no grogginess..nothing…we helped her down from the table till she squirmed in our arms wanting to escape.
We realized that she wanted to walk.

The vet was amazed.

Is she all right ? we asked alarmed.

The vet said something on the lines of errr yeah! she is in perfect shape. And grinned looking at this sprightly ‘pup’ of 10 who had woken up from a surgery as if it was a light sleep.

She was babied like hell. Pampered beyond measure.

We couldn’t let her get her mouth near her stitches till they healed. So one of us had to be with her 24/7. How would we ensure the safety of the stitches?

Elizabeth collar was not available in the shops.

So we resorted to tee shirts and shirts the way the vet had suggested.

Our baby truly looked like one with her bandage.

Bit by bit she grew more active. One month passed like a breeze. We were convinced the worst was over.

Till 4th Aug.
When her left hind leg swelled a little.

We called the vet.
He came and checked her .

Pressed his fingers near the swelling.
When did we take her for a walk? When did her leg start swelling up?

This has something to do with an insect bite he said. Some injections and a few medicines later he told us,” It will go down in a day or two.”

The swelling went down.

And then it came back again on 7th Aug.

This time her leg had swelled even more. We called the vet again. He came , gave injections and medicines and took blood samples. Said something about pitted edema.

Mom asked with fear in her voice. What is that?

He replied it is either because of a weak heart…which can later lead to heart failure. Or it is a symptom of kidney failure. Once the blood tests come back from the lab we will be able to get a clearer picture..he said.

Mom persisted but will she get well? There is a cure na? Tears in her eyes and hopeful .

He simply said…no. No cure for kidney failure. With a weak heart she can survive on medication But Kidney failure? No cure.

So we prayed ..each one of us we prayed …we prayed to whomever we had faith in. We prayed that god please let it be a heart condition.

Called up the vet the next day. It was a Sunday. Around lunch time I remember.

BUN and creatinine levels are very high..he said. These are symptoms of kidney failure.

Silence for a few minutes.
Okay what do we do now? Some medicine ?Anything? What do we do?

Get her started on fluid therapy he said. The sooner the better.
Get her here today itself.

We picked her and took her to the clinic. She still was as inquisitive as ever. Wagging her tail all the time that they applied the IV. Wagging it even more when the vet gave her injections.
Waging it when other furry patients came to the clinic. Wagging it when she heard a bark or a meow trying desperately to crane her neck and see that little puppy in the corner.

Trying even more desperately to peer from between me and mom who formed a wall for her incase she got ideas about jumping off the table.

Fluid therapy the first day seemed like a breeze because she seemed the most energetic then. In the clinic.

Continue this for sometime. Fluid therapy is the only treatment in such cases.

We would come home with her. She would be dead tired. She would go off to sleep and wake up after a few hours. Then mom would feed her . Breaking her food into little morsels.. Coaxing her, cajoling her like a little kid.

On 9th the swelling in her legs got worse. While she was on IV we asked the assistant. You must have seen many such cases. How much time do they take to recover?

The assistant answered with a cheerful smile…Depends on each one. They are all different. But usually it takes about 12-14 days for the effects to be visible.

We felt a tiny hope.
But he must have said it to calm the fear in our voice, I now realize.

We came home on 9th Aug in the evening. Once again she was tired. Fluid therapy would drain her of any energy.

The whole family sat together and discussed while she slept between us. Oblivious to the world around her.

Should we go for a second opinion? This vet seems too unprofessional.
But what if going to another vet is a mistake? What if we mess this up? What if this vet is giving her exactly the right treatment?

Elder bro A was consulted over the phone.

Yes, lets go for a second opinion was the unanimous decision finally.

So we spoke to the second vet. Really amazing with animals we had been told. Works wonders in cases that seem hopeless.

The vet asked for the details on the phone. BUN level. Creatinine level. Treatment being given. Previous medical history.

These two vets..the husband wife duo knew our vet as well. They had full faith in our vet.
The treatment being given was exactly the right one they told us.

We felt reassured.
But can we please come to you tomorrow?On 10th?

We would still like you to take a look at her.

They agreed.
We took her on 10th morning.

The vet examined her. They both asked us to get an ultrasound done.

We took Ash to the lab.An assistant held her hind legs and I held her front ones.She was lying on her back. Her face was facing mine.

a gel was applied to her stomach.
The lab technician moved something that looked like a hand held massager over her tummy.

Those few minutes were one of her happiest ones.:)
She was in heaven. Her eyes were sparkling. A massage?such a soothing , cool one? Why dont you guys apply this gel thingamagic at home huh? ?I want to stay in this place forever ! she seemed to say.

We went back to the vet duo and showed them the reports. They pored over her medical file. …read and pondered over something.

Finally told us that her kidneys were in perfect shape. Nothing seemed abnormal on the ultrasound scan.

But that her blood reports showed that her creatinine and BUN levels were still high and so the fluid therapy should continue. And it should take place twice a day. For maximum effect.

They gave her the morning fluid therapy for 10th and advised us to get the evening one and all the ones thereafter with the first vet who was the one nearest our home and which as a consequence would mean less stress for our baby.

We were immensely relieved. The second opinion gave us solace.

It was raining heavily I remember. The heaviest rain of the season.We were stuck near Vasant Vihar.
We came back home at around 3 in the afternoon.

We were to take her for her evening therapy at 6. She slept the whole time.

We took her back to her vet. The one she knew and had started liking.

We showed all the reports to our vet . He saw them all and still looked as serious as before.
Didn’t you see the reports? I asked .

Yes, I did. But she is still in critical condition. She is not showing improvement the way she should. The swelling is spreading.

But her ultrasound shows normal kidneys.Look. Here. I took out the reports from her file.

Our vet didn’t say anything much. Then he took a moment.

Looked at her examined her, stroked her with affection and then looked at both of us…I and S..and quietly said….her chances are very slim. You have to be prepared for the worst.

We were just blank. Numb.

We knew I think….ever since he had first told us that it could be either a sign of heart failure or kidney failure…We knew…
When mom had cried that day..we knew..

But we were still unable to take it in..

This is why we had found our vet ‘unprofessional’. Because he gave us the facts instead of beating around the bush Because he had given us the truth and we had hated it..

Because when he had first told us that this had no cure we had raged at him after he was gone. Cursed him. Hated him. Silly guy!What does he know? We had asked each other.

We came home around 8 in the evening. We told mom and dad. We all just sat around her.

We called up A and told him.

An hour of quiet.
Then finally mom…’ This means we spend all our time with her.

Make memories with her. Cherish each day. Savour it. Let her know how much she is loved. Tell her. talk to her. Tell her what she means to you. Caress her. Make it easy for her.

And she started crying while saying it…she was trying so hard to be strong.

The words seemed easy to say. How would we follow them? We simply sat with our baby. She was again in her own world.

Blinking at….us…her family groggily when we called her name.

She seemed so helpless.All her energy was disappearing.

We carried her to mom and dad’s room. Her didi and her bhaiyya holding her.
Dad looked up in alarm. He had assumed she would walk into the room the way she always did. A little slowly but that she would walk the way she had done in all of her 10 years and nine months.

He asked her with sadness in his voice. Ash…beta.. how can you grow old before me? Before your dad?

Ash just looked at him. Saying so many things with her eyes. They spoke.
Aware that her dad was saying something to her but unable to comprehend it. Even her tail refused to wag.

The effort it took was too much.

We called up A and told him how lethargic she was getting.

He seemed lost too.
Quiet.
He had taken care of her like a baby for the first five years of her life. Till he had to go for his training.

Mom asked all of us to sleep in the same room that night.

I remember S and dad staying awake till 12:30.
I remember mom and I keeping vigil.

I remember how Ash was having difficulty breathing…how I rang up the vet at 1:30 and was babbling on the phone.

He asked us to give her glucose and honey. So that she would breathe easier.
How he calmly asked us to get her to the clinic.

I remember my baby using her last ounce of strength to turn herself away from the wall so she could face her mom ,dad and her bhaiyya,didi…

How she looked at us trying to capture something….as if trying to keep a memory …a picture of her family for eternity…

How we said A is here. ..so that she would have him…if only in memory…

How all of us were crying..knowing in our heart of hearts that this was it.

How mom…my strong , courageous mom gathered herself up and stopped crying and asked us to stop too.

Let her go in peace she said .

How mom put gangaajal and tulsi in Nanhi’s mouth.

How at 1:45 I picked her up in my arms …how S was holding up her head …the way one holds a little baby’s head gently…. because for the first time in all her years she was not able to hold up her head…

We ran towards the car.

It was pitch dark outside.
Its all a blur. What did we do in those 15 minutes? What exactly? I just remember bits and pieces.

The drive seemed to be the longest drive of our life. We reached just before 2.

The assistant checked her for a heartbeat.And then just shook his head.

S looking at me with shock and saying what?

She has gone. She has left us.
My baby brother in denial…..crying and shaking his head but she is just sleeping. Look at her!

Dad breaking down…mom trying to hold the wall for support.

Such overwhelming grief.

How we came back home and sat vigil the entire night.
Mom lighting incense. All of us just numb.

Our baby slept . The way she always did. Any moment we expected to see her moving her little paws in her sleep ….to hear her give a woof…chasing some imaginary rabbit…or lizard…

But we didn’t. She slept with the most peaceful expression on her face.
The way she would sleep like an absolutely adorable baby at times.

Giving A a call in the morning. A was devastated.
But he tried to be strong. For us. She had to go. It was her time.

Till he could not take it anymore and said but I am not even there with her.
You all are right there. I wont even get to see her. He was crying quietly. She was his baby too.

Mom wiping her little body with gangaajal . Putting a tilak on her forehead. Her tiny little forehead which didnt have any frown lines now. She was sleeping.
A new cloth to cover her. A wooden stretcher.

We went…. all four of us with Nanhi for the last time.

I and S sitting with her in the back. Her tiny frail body .Unmoving.

We went to the burial ground.

They were waiting for us. Our vet had been considerate.

The way mom cried out don’t uncover her body please.
A gentle reply..this is a must.
I think all of us closed our eyes for a moment then. I am not sure.
I did. I know this.

We couldn’t bear to look at our prancing little baby lying motionless. Lifeless.

Her body inside the ground forever.

All of us picking up a fistful of earth and putting it over her.
Mom lighting incense. From all five of us.

She looked so peaceful.

————————————————————-

The funeral traditions have been followed. The tenth day …the thirteenth…..all the other rites….it gave mom peace..and us too.

We felt such peace after the thirteenth day. The ache is there but the overwhelming , soul sucking grief disappeared after the thirteenth day.

She is free today, mom said.

Is there such a thing as a soul? Animal or human?
I would like to believe there is.

That there is really an afterlife…or a rebirth. Or something.
Because if one doesn’t believe in this when faced with the loss of a loved one…then quite simply, one would go mad.

Because as long as it doesn’t harm someone, this belief is mine to hold and take solace from. Because its personal. Because one desperately needs this to survive some griefs.

There is a saying. I forgot the exact words.A quote maybe.

It says something on the lines of….
If all of humanity that thinks that its personal grief is the biggest, were to keep all of it in a pile and then everyone was asked to take an equal share… then everyone would quickly claim their own, original share of grief.

The quote makes sense. Puts things in perspective.
And when one looks around one realizes how cruel fate can be. How there are griefs that are bigger than mine.

But even after all these thoughts…all of these things that you tell your brain to comprehend.
…..even after all this… when the day is over..and you have nothing to distract you…nothing to numb the ache inside…

then you realize what a frightening thing it is to be all alone with your grief.

Just you and your grief.
Just yours. No one else’s.
There is no other grief to compare.

Mom shares stories from different faiths. How animals have a soul. How they are the creatures closest to god. It helps sometimes. Its the only thing that does.

“If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are a lot better off than humans.”- James Herriot

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There are many things we say to console ourselves. Many things that don’t help. At all.

Days when all you want is to have her in your arms and not let her go.

Bargaining with God or whichever power is there…….If we just have her again we will take her for more walks…we will give her so much love…we will spend more time with her…we will do this and so much more…just please let us have her again….

Knowing fully well that none of this is possible.
Knowing about the impermanence of life. About how their lives are shorter than ours.

That this too will heal.
That ‘time’ , as so many tell us, is the greatest healer.

But nothing helps the ache.
Nothing.

Reading doesn’t help. Going out doesn’t help. Watching TV doesn’t help either. Nothing helps.
All it does is take off your mind from the ache for sometime.

Our lives revolved around her. How does one ‘get used ‘ to it?

The smileys for the first time are so fake. I type them sometimes so that a friend would not be sucked into this quagmire of grief.
I type them to escape from this memory that seems to be in constant rewind.

I type them because a little part of me fears that no one will understand this pain. Because its not a ‘human’ one.

How do I tell them of what she meant and means to us?
Of how ‘human’ she was?

Of the void that seems to be so huge because she has left us?

Of how this family will love and help animals as before…but that right now we cannot feed a stray without tearing up….that we escape into the house before we start sobbing on the road? That we cannot pet another’s little baby without remembering ours first?

These little beings understand instinctively .

At the places of some friends, the little ones come and sit by our feet keeping their heads in our lap….waiting to share this grief that they can sense.
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I think she left us in that one brief moment. That one moment when we came under the open sky and before we got into the car.

I felt it. Not at that moment. I don’t think it registered right then.But she did.
11th Aug ’10. Gone forever.

She was at peace. She was in my arms. She was surrounded by her loved ones. She was under the open sky.

Souls of animals need an open sky so they can leave us peacefully …. so many tell us.
I am glad she went peacefully.

There are many things I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember.

The way she looked before I took her in my arms.
The way all of us dreaded…no…. that’s too mild a word ..the way we were terrified..bone scared of the prospect of having to take a decision the next morning to end her suffering.

That is paap. Mom had said then. Dad too. Mom had looked ashen. Let the vets say whetever they want.
That will simply not happen.

The next morning never came.

These are things I will never describe..will never be able to..because it gives us a migraine if we try.
Some moments are to be kept in a corner of our mind. Hidden forever.

My baby..our baby went peacefully. Having spent her time here. Among her loved ones.

Mourning is a show of respect to the departed and to his or her place in our lives, as well as a crucial stage in the healing of those who experienced the loss. But the soul of the departed does not desire that those remaining in this world remain paralyzed by grief. On the contrary, the soul’s greatest benefit comes from its loved ones’ return to active, even joyous life, in which their feelings of love and veneration translate into deeds that honor the departed soul and attest to its continuing influence in our world

link

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She saw us through the ups and downs. She was a part of so many phases in my life.
She was there when I was a teen. Worrying about silly crushes and crying over them. Holding her and whispering all the dilemnas of my teenage heart to her.
She was there when I wore my first saree for the farewell party in school. She thought it was such fun to play hide and seek between the folds of the saree. Delighted with this gown/cape like thing her didi was wearing.

She was there when I sat in my room … apprehensive about the first day of college. Nuzzling me and trying to console me.

She was there when I got my first job. the ecstasy, the joy of earning on my own. She shared all of it with me. Getting treats for her from my first salary.

Meting PM for the first time and telling her all about it at night. Just her and me. The patient look on her face as she looked at me solemnly. Wondering who I was talking about.

Asking mom to make sure that I would get a moment alone with Nanhi during the marriage chaos before I left.

…but I didn’t know that she would leave me before all of it.

The journey from being a girl to a woman. She was there throughout. With me in each moment.

And like a greedy soul not content with just this, I wanted more. I wanted her to be around for my kids. I wanted her to be around for mom and dad.

I wanted her around . Just because.

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We didn’t take care of her ..She took care of us.

When this family seemed to be drifting apart…our little girl made sure she was the binding force.

She brought joy and laughter..the kind that comes from deep inside your soul…she brought all of it in our lives…

She was there when A was grappling with the pressures of being a teen……daunted by and clueless about what life had in store for him.

When A would silently cry, she would go and sit next to him and lick all his tears away.

Dad talking to his choti beti when sometimes he just needed to talk childish gibberish with her. Nanhi would run to her papa and snuggle next to him on the bed.

She would sit next to mom..waiting for her to finish her Puja. So that she would get the first prasad. Mom’s first offering of prasad was always but always for her Nanhi. And dare anyone try to take her nanhi’s prasad.:)

Sometimes when her tail would knock down a few things in the pujaghar. Mom would smile and say Nanhi is God’s biggest bhakt. She is his creature.She is allowed to do it all.

When my little brother was ill….when he needed someone to hold on to…someone whose furry neck he could cry into..someone who would be patient and loving..he found her…..

She was his birthday gift after all.

She made him walk….this hyperactive , loony girl who couldn’t stand in one place without prancing around…

This same girl was the model of patience when around my little brother in his illness….the day we got him home from the hospital she was at her quietest……no jumping madly and ecstatically at him….no craziness…just a quiet understanding that her brother was home and needed her.

The way she instinctively knew that her bhaiyya was not well. That his left side was not moving.
The way my little baby…our little baby climbed the bed, went to his left side and sat licking his left hand.

Touch therapist mom said with blurry eyes. Amazed at this bond between the two little kids of the house.

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Some day we will bring home these little babies. I am sure of it. The three of us. I and my brothers. When we have families of our own.

I know we three want our children to grow up knowing what it is to be surrounded by these creatures of god. To know what it is to be loved like this. Without conditions.

But I also know that my parents are absolutely devastated with this loss. That they have given their heart once and for all.
Aware now of their own mortality and deprived of a companion they thought they would spend delightful sunny afternoons with. The way they had planned how the two of them and their Nanhi will spend their retirement years.

How they had already thought of how their new home would suit Nanhi best. How she would prance happily from one balcony to the other.

It would be unfair to bring another creature home when we know we cannot take the responsibility.
When A is not here, when I am leaving in a few months…when S will be leaving for his job soon.

And when two parents are lost in thoughts of their youngest child. The one whom dad called my youngest daughter. This is how she was introduced to family and friends.

We have her in our memories. We have her in our hearts. Our first love. This family’s first love.
These words are for us. For the five of us. And for the littlest daughter of this house.

I know I will keep adding more words here. In bits and pieces. As and when the memories come rushing back to any one of us.
Anecdotes to be told at family gatherings. Little things to smile about when we are all alone.

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These days even finding her hair on our clothes is a source of delight. Look ma! her hair! bro will smile and point at his shirt.

The same hair that we tried to reduce by constantly brushing her so that she would shed less and her coat would have a gloss.
How we would so very gingerly keep all the dark or woollen clothes on top of tables so that her hair wouldn’t reach.(and yet it always did somehow)

The same hair that would be stuck like glue when we wore sweaters in winters. The same hair that would make us sigh in exasperation when we saw it on our clothes.

We search like starved souls for a glimpse of it these days.

The glass book shelf has not been dusted because we can see her hair in one corner.

We are hoping we will see it on our clothes this winter.
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She was the most precious thing in our lives. What she gave us is priceless.
She made our lives whole.

I just hope we were worthy of her.

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Grief is not something to be ‘cured’ of, it is not something to run from or push away. It is something very beautiful, something to be honoured, understood and experienced. Unexpressed or supressed grief can lead to severe depression and illness if it is not acknowledged and embraced. We must allow ourselves and others to feel it and work through it. Grief is testament to our love for another being, it is not weakness- it is incredibly powerful and if approached with an open heart and mind, it can be profoundly healing on many levels.

[LINK]

“It is not just that animals make the world more scenic or picturesque. The lives of animals are woven into our very being – closer than our own breathing – and our soul will suffer when they are gone.”
~Gary Kowalski,

I believe in animal rights, and high among them is the right to the gentle stroke of a human hand. ~Robert Brault

Graceful Kathak dancers on tv …
Mesmerized.
To dance like them….
To whirl round and round till she was all out of breath and giddy.
…fall giggling on the floor.

When ma came running. Worried if her baby was hurt.

The little one gave an angelic smile and said something in her lilting tongue.

A mother’s heart understood and smiled. Her darling wanted to dance again…..

Tejaswee Rao
Born: 19th Jan 1991

Died: 11th Aug 2010.
May you rest in peace little princess

In one of the stars, I shall be living. In one of them, I shall be laughing.
And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing when you look at the sky at night.’
~ The Little Prince ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

तेजस्वी Tejaswee

तेजस्वी High spirited, Red blooded, Powerful, Strong, Gifted, Brilliant, Lustrous
What a beautiful name to gift to your daughter IHM.
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I didn’t know what to write at first IHM. What can I say that will lessen your grief? What can I do to help you in any way possible dearest friend? I am not even a mother. Will my words seem empty?

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Did you know Tejaswee? Tejaswee Rao?

Well..you should have.You missed knowing a girl whose spirit shines through in her words.

This is IHM’s blog The Life and Times of an Indian Home Maker

This is Tejaswee Rao’s blog. IHM’s daughter. I.M.A.O (Tejaswee Rao’s blog)

Go visit them both. Go on.
Go and see for yourself how a daughter is a reflection of her mother. How the same passion drives them both.

This …A letter to the future… this letter is what made me and still makes me smile every time I read it.

I had read this letter long back.I remember a friend and I talking about this letter. But I didn’t know one thing. I didn’t know she was IHM”s daughter. I remember being impressed with this young girl who penned her thoughts in such a beautiful and lucid manner.

I followed her blog quietly until one day I realized that she was my very own IHM’s daughter.
No wonder! I should have known shouldn’t I? Could it have been any other way? A strong , passionate woman with a can -do spirit would have a daughter with the same wouldn’t she?

Words are essentially an expression of one’s spirit….of all that one is.

For the Inuits, the word to make poetry is the word to breathe; both
are derivatives of anerca, the soul, that which is eternal: the
breath of life.

Tejaswee’s words are such. They speak of her. They are gentle, they are calm. They are energetic. They are thoughtful. Her words bubble with happiness. Her enthusiasm is infectious. Her words breathe.

And in each one you see that she is having this conversation with herself. Is this right? Is that wrong? What if? If only. OMG!How dare they? And you smile. shaking your head at this young kid who is on a roller-coaster ride.

Her crush:)..her shyness, her smile…..and then her doubts about Obama in the very next one…then some pondering about the Burqa and Sarko..made me smile this one..Why?

Here is a girl who has not closed her mind to anything. She ponders, she mulls, she asks questions, tries to answer some of them herself..and then still keeps an open mind. Isnt this how human beings should be? Not dogmatic, open to everything?

And look at her soft heart. Read this story.

And here’s a secret.:) Everytime that I read a post of hers where she wrote indignantly about ”kicking is not cruelty to women? and Taliban and moral dilemna over ragging and using the word bitch , I thought to myself with a smile , there is an IHM in the making. Little did I know she was your daughter IHM.

Her musings on Delhi and her childhood memories of this place…the way she missed Pune…

Her memories of Andaman…the way her memories overlap..her thoughts jump from one to the other…she is in a tearing hurry to live life.

Her impression of Delhi..
You keep comparing your new city to your old one. The people (skin colour, size of nose etc), the clothes (how can people wear SO much sparkly-stuff?!), the music (okay, old city sucks when it comes to this one), the lingo (arre yaar, iska feel nahin aaya… seriously, mein toh kal M-Block Market ja rahien hoon. aanna hai?), even the Ants (seriously. Delhi’s ants are HUGE!).

I remember smiling when I read it for the first time just as I am doing now…That part about ”SO much sparkly stuff” made me laugh out loud.
Touché I say kiddo. Touché:)

Psst! I could have helped you find the sandals without chamak or thin heels more easily you know;)
And I rather like your idea of dealing with chain mails.:D

Her love for Bronte’s and Austen’s works..

Her anger at ‘bandhs’ in India that serve no purpose.

The laka laka thing was hilarious!:D

She saw the Delhi monsoons. She has captured them so beautifully.

And Dilli’s autowallahs..:)

Today I sat and read each word….teared up while reading some…nodded my head in agreement at others, was and still am as confused as her about some…..had a thing or two to say about saddi Dilli;) but you know what IHM? Mostly I smiled. How could I not?

This delight of a girl doesn’t leave one with any other option. She hooks you in with her words and then leaves you smiling.

I read these words of hers below and I thought that’s IHM’s daughter to a T!
“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”

-aesop

And look at this;)
No more really gorgeous footballers to ogle at. Oh the meaningless-ness of my life!
*ahem* *high five Tejaswee!

”If I write what my soul thinks, it will be visible, and the words will be its body.” — Helen Keller

Her soul is innocence and bubbly laughter.

—-
Today I went hunting for these words of yours IHM….read many other writes of yours too…all about her….your love for all creatures that she has inherited too….sibling fights in jest…her passion for gender equality…so much ..just so much to share…
What are little girls made of?
I know what this little girl was made of…

Little girls are made of a strong indomitable will, a unique kind of courage in a girl who shakes and trembles deep inside and yet stands firm by her conviction...

Little girls are made of a compassion that’s rare and a soft, mushy heart that looks longingly at her crush.

Little girls are made of that which speaks to a daughter yet unborn..one who is hers in every sense of the word…

Little girls are made of unflinching loyalty and stubborn resolutions.

Little girls are mamma’s baby and daddy’s princess and partner in crime with their brother.

Little girls are made of wobbly smiles and tear streaked cheeks. Giggles that are magic and soft little palms that stroke a father’s cheek.

Little girls are ‘raunak‘. They light up your home for eternity. For, in each corner her laugh lingers forever.

Little girls shuffle their feet and look enquiringly at their mother and father who say ,”Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be. ” They digest the powerful lesson in silence and from then on each word of the little girl echoes that lesson learnt.

Little girls care so darn much about the fate of this world that they hesitate before each step of theirs wondering if what they are doing is right. And that makes them special.So darn special.

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A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp, and make funny noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your mouth she stands there demure with that special look in her eyes. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot.-Unknown

Smiles heal..memories heal..happy ones, mischievous ones…..your heart will be healed darling friend…..she will heal all of you, her loved ones.

Look at the beautiful smile of hers that has been captured in each frame. She is with each one of us. Strangers who have never met her. Just because of you IHM. And yet I think…are we really strangers? This family of yours is grieving with you, laughing too…when I think of all that you wrote about when she was a little girl.

How can one look at her and not smile?

There is much to do. Her many, many dreams to fulfill…her causes to support. And there is not one person..not one who I can think of, who can do a better job than you IHM.

Awe is a word that I do not use. Have not used ever. Not in context of human beings. For, to stand in awe of someone would require that person to be an extraordinary mortal indeed.

I have respected you IHM, loved you, fought with you, argued, patched up and repeated it all over again. And through it all your endless patience , your gentle smile, your silent encouragement, when you fought my battles when I couldn’t, sometimes a simple letter encouraging me for something well done..

But today I stand in awe of you IHM.
Because of this. SHE WILL LIVE FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS

”It’s difficult for me to talk about it now. All I would say is we have decided it would help tremendously to channelize our grief in some positive direction.

We have decided to understand that everybody has to go someday, she left earlier than we would have liked. We have decided to see which of her causes we can support. One of the thoughts is to start a scholarship in her name, maybe a fund. I would appreciate suggestions for this. And also any suggestions that help us stay positive.”

Now I know why I wrote these words for you long back…

Indian Home Maker or IHM as we all know her:) The most strong individual I have met here:)
it would be of a woman who stands ever so strong….
it would be warmth defined…
it would compell you to search for your own tune..
it would be the beat that you’d want to join in…
it would lead to revolutions long due…
it would sometimes break your heart…
it would sometimes make you see…
it would be a foot tapping number you couldn’t resist…:)

IHM -For being such an amazing ,warm hearted person.A strong woman who has very strong beliefs.She is in a class of her own.She appears almost magically the first time and leaves a comment.:)A comment that encourages you to take one step further..There is this ‘something’ about her.Quite hard to define really.Those who know her would understand what I am saying.:)
After receiving this award when I went blog-hopping again,you know what I noticed?That she has given so many awards!A cup here,a shield there.A generous,generous soul this lady is.And you say you don’t do much IHM?Ask those whom you have touched.So this award and every one which comes my way is yours.Really.Truly.

And I had just known you for two odd months. And yet I would devour everything you wrote, ponder over it, fall in love with your loved ones. One’s instincts never lead one astray.Mine didn’t.

I saved the best for last IHM.
Look at what she shared here..
‘How many boards would the Mongol hoard, if the Mongol hordes got bored?”

-Calvin
I tell you she is just cracking up on that one:)

PS:- And IHM? You haven’t watched French Kiss yet?o.O She is right you know. Meg and Kevin are adorable in it.

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Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.
– Henry Scott Holland ~ 1847-1918
Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral

Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come. -Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore

अम्बर के आनन को देखो
कितने इसके तारे टूटे
कितने इसके प्यारे छूटे
जो छूट गए फिर कहाँ मिले
पर बोलो टूटे तारों पर
कब अम्बर शोक मनाता है….

Tejaswee Rao
Born: 19th Jan 1991.

Died: 11th Aug 2010.
May you rest in peace little princess

“Breathe.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you.”
~Nicholas Evans

How does one get the courage to get up in the morning?To breathe without painstaking effort? How does one get rid of the heavy ache in one’s heart? How does one not get bitter? These months have brought heartache. Nothing but heartache.

Two loved ones gone from our life forever.

A lady who was strong and compassionate.A gentle soul..loved by all who knew her. And a bubbly ,chirpy girl even at the age of 56. The trio of sisters would sit in a corner and gossip like mad. She has left a void, a huge one….one that we are still coping with.

We were still trying to take wobbly steps when our lil baby left us too. Just like that.

Some day I will write tomes about her. Nothing less than that would do her justice. But for now only this. A lifetime of memories lived and shared in 11 years.

Ash
16 Nov 1999 – 11 Aug 2010

“Not the least hard thing to bear when
they go from us, these quiet friends,
is that they carry away with them so
many years of our lives.

Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears, but laugh
And talk of me as if I were beside you. I loved
You so—‘twas heaven here with you.

What we have once enjoyed
we can never lose;
All that we love deeply,
becomes a part of us.
-Helen Keller

——–

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

Celebrate their life. We are learning how to.
For, ‘they’ wouldn’t have it any other way. To think of them and not smile? No. Not at all. For, that would be regret. And how can I regret the lil bundle of joy I came home with almost eleven years ago ? She slept for the last time in my arms too.

Ash. Because of her beautiful ash grey eyes when she was a pup.Slowly they turned into melting brown ones. Years in exchange for years. Memories in exchange for memories. Love…. boundless love for us..her family..her mom, dad , both her bhaiyyas and her didi.

The imp is probably up there somewhere chasing rabbits and sniffing trees. And probably wagging her tail like crazy and getting ready to jump madly on some unsuspecting stranger.

But she has a huge responsibility. The most important one. You see,she has a lil girl to take care of. And a strong ,loving woman to give company to.The trio is happy.I am sure of it.

Rest in peace little one.

नैनं छिन्दन्ति शस्त्राणि नैनं दहति पावकः।

न चैनं क्लेदयन्त्यापो न शोषयति मारुतः।।

nainam chindanti śastrāNi nainam dahati pāvakah

na chainam kledayantyāpo na śoshayati mārutah

The soul can never be cut to pieces by any weapon, nor burned by fire, nor moistened by water, nor withered by the wind.

Bhagavad Gita – Chapter 2, Verse 23.

While the murder and brutalisation of those defying restrictions on intra-gotra marriages needs to be strongly condemned and punished, i fail to understand why most sections of the media and progressive opinion are condemning Haryana MP Naveen Jindal for taking up the demand for amendment in the Hindu Marriage Act (HMA) of 1955 to include same-gotra marriages in the category of prohibited relationships for the Jats of Haryana.

While it is fair to term honour killings “barbaric” it is perfectly legitimate for each community to insist on the right to decide for itself what aspects of tradition it wishes to cherish and what it wishes to discard or reform, provided its leaders can enforce community norms through democratic consensus and not life-threatening forms of coercion.

But those who wish to opt out of gotra-based identities have to be allowed to do so, without fear of criminal forms of coercion. The Special Marriage Act exists precisely to legalise marriages of those who wish to opt out of their community’s customary practices and restrictions. Clan or family members of such rebels have the right to disown and disinherit such persons but cannot be given the right to hound them to death.

No civilised society can sanction murder simply because some people claim a particular person brought them “dishonour”. Likewise, no civilised society can allow a small minority of self-appointed social reformers to decide arbitrarily which identities have sanctity and which must be banned out of existence through statist coercion.

Thoughts that are in my mind.

When she writes about NOT allowing a small minority of self appointed reformers to decide arbitrarily as to which identities should have sanctity , does she then also extend this reasoning to cover France’s burqa ban that she supports wholeheartedly? Why no emphasis by her on first finding a consensus among the Muslim society there? It was okay to have a small minority of self appointed reformers to decide on the burqa ban in France?

Pull the Muslim women out of the medieval age she says or else they will be stuck there forever. Okay. One accepts she has a point there. (Though the word BAN is like this bone stuck in my throat)
But why an about turn by her on the khap issue in India then? Why no calls for ‘pulling the community out of medieval age?

A ban in France would have been fine HAD the Muslim population, specifically the Muslim WOMEN been asked . Had there been a poll. The democratic consensus that Ms Kishwar writes about here.
But lets forget France . I am more interested in whats happening here.

Seems like the kindergarten example of If you wont agree to the rules, even I won’t.
‘Other’ religious minorities show no inclination to be part of a consensus on UCC writes Madhu Kishwar and therefore Ms Kishwar argues even Khaps should be allowed to have their own personal laws.

Ah! I can so see how we are on our way to that elusive UCC.

If in future, as Madhu writes, Khap Panchayats will give freedom to any couple that wants to get married under the Special Marriage Act, then where is that freedom now?

Why the demand for amendment in the Hindu Marriage Act (HMA) ?

An individual would like to use the Special Marriage Act to get married to the person of his/her choice IF there are certain obstacles in the way . (Too numerous to describe here)

But to FIRST CREATE an obstacle(the proposed amendment) and THEN say that oh! you have the Special Marriage Act for your benefit???
Absurd in the extreme!

After all, the whole issue is about choice.

Two individuals want to get married to each other and the khap panchayats citing age old tradition don’t allow them to do so.
So the couple escapes(or tries to) and is killed before or after getting married. Depends on when the Khap panchayats catch hold of them.

And it is named ‘Honour’ killing .
Just exactly whose ‘honour’ it is, is yet to be determined.

So khap panchayats that don’t allow two individuals to get married now will ‘allow’ or ‘give the choice’ to their sons and daughters to do so in the future?
After the amendment?

Apparently Ms Kishwar thinks so. She seems to think that once the amendment is made, Khap Panchayats will undergo a change of heart and will agree like little kittens to any wish of their children to marry within gotra. And that they will lose their bloodthirsty tendency.

If according to Ms Kishwar Clan or family members of such rebels have the right to disown and disinherit such persons but cannot be given the right to hound them to death., then why are the clan members not already doing so?

They need an amendment to change their heart?
But wait! The proposed amendment is EXACTLY what the khap Panchayats want so WHY would they become all docile AFTER their wish has been granted???

They can at best use moral persuasion to urge youngsters to avoid marrying within the gotra.

And where is the moral persuasion NOW? Why is it missing?

There are many communities that are still outside that all important sphere called education and are still stuck in a medieval mindset. So are they to be allowed to do what they want?

There are many communities that are holding on to certain questionable practices even now.

If one extends Ms Kishwar’s arguments regarding ‘preservation of tradition’ vis a vis the khap panchayats to other ‘traditions’ of other communities as well then where will it lead us?

Where does one draw the line in giving communities the power to choose which traditions they want to keep and which ones they want to discard? Those youngsters who are dying for simply making a choice are also a part of this very same community right?

HOW will these communities EVER come out of the old mindset? When will they advance on the path to progressive thinking? A vicious circle again?

As a commentor writes in response to Ms Kishwar’s column, For, the constitution not only lays down the framework of governance, but also expects the state to perform a pivotal role while facilitating Indian society’s forward movement towards meaningful social change

And sometimes scattered young voices calling out for change and dying for it speak more loudly than that of a collective Khap Panchayat. But only to those who want to hear.

Madhu Kishwar’s arguments are shaky at best.
If there is a more logical presentation of facts one might feel compelled to listen. Not so the case here.

Note- I have only tried to look at Madhu Kishwar’s arguments. (since she is the one being quoted everywhere on the khap issue)

There may be others who may be making some valid points. But if so, I have not come across them.

Meanwhile here is another view.

As the author says, Are we talking about a modern India where we have been fighting to abolish age-old caste practices? Are we talking of a dynamic and integrated India where there is a high level of mobility, inter-mingling, and inter-mixing of religions and castes?

Related reading

Khap panchayat: signs of desperation?

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