Wheels of Change

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving”. – Albert Einstein

3rd June is World Bicycle Day. Just like any city across the globe, cyclists in large numbers will congregate at the city center or town square and celebrate the day with much fanfare by pedalling and leaving green imprints on the Earth. 

It is common knowledge now that burning of fossil fuels- coal and petroleum etc. has asphyxiated the living Earth and has punctured holes in the ozone layer. People in China and particularly in the Netherlands are avid cyclists. In Amsterdam, the capital of the Netherlands, people have rejected automobiles to the extent of creating ‘cycling chaos’ (jams). It is a common sight to see mothers cycling with their toddler sitting in front of the bicycle in this city. Cycle vans ferry students to school. Till a few years ago in India, a cycle was considered as a poor man’s mode of conveyance. During early morning hour milkmen and newspaper vendors can be seen invariably riding a bicycle to offer their services at our door-steps. Guwahati in the 80s and 90s saw more cyclists, people who actually commuted to work in their Hero or Atlas cycles. Children then who are grown-ups now would snake the lanes and by-lanes of their localities often venturing out of their parents radar mounted atop their bicycles. The novice boy or girl learnt the art of ‘half-pedal’ first in the ‘masculine Hero’ cycle.

Nowadays, cycling is not looked down upon. People clad in swanky gel-padded cycling shorts, hand-gloves geared up with nite safe reflective helmets, laser LED lights navigate the streets of the city, either solo, or in twos or threes or still larger groups. Even the ‘pump’ to inflate the tyre tube has undergone a change. One can just use a much easier foot pump instead of the hand-pump.

Many western foreigners flock to Manali in Himachal Pradesh to cover the highest motorable road in the world on wheels as they pedal into thin air, braving inclement weather and the treacherous terrain, crossing Rohtang pass and reach Leh, the capital of Ladakh (J&K).  Likewise, Guwahati is slowly but surely waking up and is on its way in becoming a cycling hub within Northeast India. The city with its surrounding hills with serpentine streams and gardened with rich natural vegetation and wildlife is a cyclist’s magnetic marvel. Rides to Pobitora, Hajo, North Guwahati, Chandubi, Kaziranga, Barapani, Shillong, Tawang, Indo-Bhutan border are common by cycling aficionados.

Delhi’s metro map is dotted with bicycles-on-rent esp. near D.U while the Bus Rapid Transit (BRT corridor) has a separate cycling lane. Moreover, the stretch of Delhi-Meerut Expressway near the Akshardham Temple is a much sort-after route among cyclists during winters with the Millennium Park, Indraprastha Park, Sanjay Lake and the sanctum sanctorum of the temple complex in the vicinity. Elsewhere in India, in states like Madhya Pradesh, Tamil Nadu. etc., bicycles-on-rent for travellers and tourists are easily available. The famous East Coast Road (ECR) that leads to Puducherry (Pondicherry) from Chennai via Mammalapuram (Mahabalipuram) is one major cycling destination. 

Regular cycling is the mantra to stay fit, healthy and youthful, even when the years add some salt and pepper to our hair. Cyclists are silently contributing to the environmental health as there is zero emission of toxic fumes and hence, absolutely zero pollution. Cycling as a hobby is dirt cheap (except the cost of the bicycle and its accessories). It won’t burn a hole in your pocket no matter how much you ride. In fact, the more you ride the chances of you suffering from common urban life-style diseases like diabetes, hypertension will be less. Hospital bill will be next to nil. Plus it reduces vehicular traffic snarls esp. during peak hours. The route to connect to nature is through the wheels of the bicycle. The popular e-cycle in Goa has boosted the tourism industry as tourist track and trails now cover most of the places of interest on the wheels.

The cycle is a vehicle for self-motivation for those who hit rock bottom in their lives. Each pedal that you push builds your strength. Cycling is all about maintaining a fine balance as you ride. Likewise, it teaches you to balance in life. You got to hold the handle through the bumpy rides of life, lest you fall. It is about taking short pauses as you apply the brake to think and re-think. It is about discovering ‘yourself’ through the journey of life on wheels. It instils confidence within you as you ride solo on deserted roads or at nocturnal hours. You have to push forward against the gusty winds. Problems which get magnified as we approach towards it get reduced in magnitude just like while crossing the trees and the hillocks and the hills on our ride. The real life stories of paracyclists and quadruple amputee cyclist are one of grit, determination and endurance. They are the perennial spring of inspiration.

Students can commute to schools and colleges while professional to their work place within short distance. One can even head to the market to buy groceries riding their cycle. Now that election is over, a newly elected BJP Member of Parliament Mansukh L. Mandaviya from Gujarat decided to ride to the Rashtrapati Bhavan for the oath-taking ceremony. Not so long ago Whatsapp was flooded with a video of a woman minister from New Zealand who cycled all the way to the hospital for child delivery. 

Indians must emulate the Dutch and embrace the Dutch bicycle culture. If the second populous country in the world can lessen its carbon imprints like its neighbour- The Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan, a carbon negative nation, the Earth will be one shade greener and a few degrees cooler. We can each contribute in making the life- harbouring Earth better , cleaner and sustainable. Until then, keep pedalling for bringing about awareness about the benefits of cycling and bring a positive change to ameliorate your life and others too. Happy World Bicyle Day!

-Karobi Gogoi Hazarika

Kingdom of Animals

As a child, I and the immediate neighbourhood kids (the girls) would eagerly wait for Deota`s arrival from the office in the evening and occasionally we would hop on to the jeep along (with pet dog and my friends) for a short rides within the campus of Dispur Capital Complex. If the pet didn’t get inside he would follow the vehicle all along the lanes and by-lanes and stop only when the four-wheeler stopped near my house.

I remember I had a succession of pets- dogs and cats often ‘desi’ of all colour, shapes and sizes. People often have the misconception that dogs and cats can never be friends, at least the ones in my house turned out to be the best of friends. In the morning and in the evening when I would call out the names one by one, like a teacher who takes the roll call in the class, Raxy, Doog-Doog, Fluffy, Rocky, Rin-Tin-Tin, Thumby et. al., the battalion would appear from every nook and cranny where ever they were and assemble near the gate for ‘fall-in’. They knew it was time for their regular walk. The cat took would sneak in from its cosy corner and join the team. In a way, she behaved more like a dog than like a feline. I once asked my second elder brother Pankaj aka Muaka if our cat was a ‘he’ or a ‘she’. At that age I was not able to identify the gender of a cat, even though it was easy for me to distinguish between a dog and a bitch. Muaka was either in the first or second year of B.V.Sc. (Bachelor of Veterinary Science) in Khanapara. He replied that it was a tomcat. I accepted his answer without an iota of doubt (since Rin-Tin-Tin displayed characteristics of a male cat) until one fine day I discovered to my utter surprise the ‘tom’ gave birth to a clowder in the safest corner of my house.

Muaka may have erred once in the identification of the gender of a house-cat but I realized he had a very good hand when it came to curing my four-legged friends. Rocky aka Raghu Dacoit as my Deota would address to the jet black Lhasa-Apso due to his aggressiveness and ferocity, was given to my maternal uncle- Mama’s house who lived in Shantipur. Just adjacent to my mama’s house we had another house which was given on rent to two families. One was a Marwari business family.  Rocky would be a sentinel 24x7 and won’t let any intruder sneak into the compound. Even the Marwari family- Tibrewal uncle’s two sons could enter their house. Rocky won’t let them touch anything and would not even allow them to sit even in my cousin brother’s scooter. My mami would pamper her two pets rocky and Fluffy as one does to a child. She would even put mosquito net for the two lucky ones lest the mosquitoes suck their precious blood. After many years when Rocky became old, weak and couldn’t move around due to a paralytic attack, Muaka got him back to our house from the Khanapara campus where my cousin brother left him and we kept him in the western toilet which we never used. There he lay invalid and helpless. It was Muaka who got n infra-red light and would regularly check on his health while I was happy to work as his assistant and would fetch anything that he needed. It was his positive approach towards life which finally enabled Rocky to stand on his four legs once again after many months of lying in the same place as an infirm. Feeding Rocky, cleaning his poo and pee and keeping him healthy and hygienic, changing his position was something which nobody taught me. When Rocky was back on his feet once again and could move around freely inside the house, I went to my maternal uncle’s house straight from Cotton College after class to divulge the good news. Rocky survived for a few more years and died in his old age.

Adjacent to my house lived Sunanda Sengupta aunty, an ACS officer then. When she moved into our locality she didn’t have a landline phone connection at her house and would often come to our house to attend the calls from her children who studied outside Assam. If she was not at home, her devoted and trusted helper who always wore a ‘lungi’ would come in her place. He was in-charge of her two lovely golden retriever pet-dogs. I always had to be careful while taking my pets for a walk after she moved in with her dogs to our neighbourhood. They were large in size, well-groomed and always in a leash while our pets were always free- free of leash and chain. Even though her pets were four-times more than the size of my pets, the latter was more in number; tiny sized but ferocious. Doog-Doog was  a one master dog who hated ‘men in lungis’ . He would never let any fruit, vegetable vendor or a rag-picker ‘in lungis’ near our house and would chase them off till the gate. Those kids from the campus who were scared of our dogs would always check out if they were out, before going to play in the children’s park located just one house away from ours.

Once there was a call for Sunanda aunty when she was not at home and as usual her helper came to attend it. Doog-Doog was taking his afternoon siesta under the divan in the drawing-rrom when he spotted the man in the lungi. He sprang out from his grotto, like a fountain ejecting water, and pouched on the man catching hold of his lengi (and not his legs) until it made a few holes of amorphous shapes in his multi-coloured lungi.

Raxy was gentle and sober like all females of her species. They were privileged to share our (me and my sister) bed all through the seasons. Being docile in nature, she was the darling of my neighbours esp. Sinha aunty’s family who really adorned her. Raxy would never change her position once she got on the bed and sleep in the same posture till morning. Doog-Doog, her partner was exactly her opposite. During winters, he would whimper at first seeking permission to get up on the bed. My sister Pahari or I had to tell him ‘Up, up, up’ while tapping our hands on the mattress. Once on it, he would again whimper, this time it was for permission to get under the quilt/ blanket. Once inside, he would roar like a lion declaring ‘I am now about to sleep for the night. Don’t you dare disturb me.’

Once Deota was transferred to Nalbari, where he had to take charge as the D.C. of the district. We left Raxy in Sinha aunty’s house. When my mother and I came back, I came to know that Raxy made a hole in their mosquito net while trying to come out. Mosquito net reminds me of another incident. Doog-Doog who shared the bed with us at night would roll within the bed and finally would tumble outward and hummock himself in the mosquito net in the edge of the bed and would be fast asleep till dawn.

The Sunday bathingtime for all the pets was a ritual of its own. Raxy was always submissive when I carried her to the bathroom or outside near the water-tap during summer. While Doog-Doog was NOT. He would never let me tough him once he came to know that it was time for his bath and some freshening up. He would hide under the beds, divan, tables, and any other holes possible for his tiny body to enter. He was intelligent enough to catch the conversation between me and my sister whenever ‘BATH’ was uttered. He even understood ‘CHAIN’- the only time he was chained was when I had to wash him. When we realized that he could catch those words easily and hide under a safe haven, we had to spell out the words ‘B-A-T-H’ and ‘C-H-A-I-N’. Till now only Suki enjoys his bath. There is none apart from him that I can remember who ever enjoyed taking his bath even in the peak hot summer. They would shiver even then.

Doog-Doog and Raxy’s son or grandson was Daboo. He was physically disabled- his hind legs were straight unlike other dogs and he would simply drag his two hind legs when he had to move around. While he walked it was as straight as two bamboo poles. I learnt later that it was due to imbreeding. Even though he had great difficulty in moving, God gifted him with sharpness, alertness, kindness towards the kittens and some extra strength in his forelegs. Since he couldn’t jump up on our bed, we gave him a thick, old cushion in our bed-room during winter. While still in the suckling stage, all the kittens wherever their mother was not around, would come crawling towards him assuming him to be their mother. He gave them warmth in those cold nights when their mommy was out hunting but he got annoyed when they would try to suckle from his teats. Little did they know that he was a canine and that too a dog and not a bitch. Daboo was a fountain of love and kindness to the feline kittens and would even lick them clean like a mother dog or a cat does to her pups or kittens.

His forelegs were so strong that he could open even the drawing room door. With his constant push with his forelegs the latch of the door would come down opening the door for him to go out and pee and poo. Coca-Cola, Raxy and Doog-Doog’s grandson (given to us by Murthy uncle) would follow me at nigh whenever I went to the toilet to pee. He would lift up his leg and release his bladder right in the hole in the corner of the bathroom. Such toilet trained they were.

Cats are the barometer of warmth and coziness. My sister and I would, like mommy kangaroos carrying its joey in its pouch, carry the kittens in the coats worn during the winter season, the kittens with their cute faces with pink nose protruding out of our coat pockets.

Once I opened my cupboard to change my dress. It was when I wore frocks. The cat jumped on top of my pile of clothes and lo and behold! In the blink of an eye, she delievered a few tiny fur-balls on top of my neatly-wrapped washed clothes. In another similar incident which I vividly remember which took place during my graduation years. The cat quietly came and sat on my lap (as she did frequently) as I read my textbook only to be petrified by the sight of what I saw next. There right in my red polka-dotted skirt she delivered her babies, her first pregnancy. Perhaps since it was her first time, she thought that my lap would be the safest place in the entire household. As I shouted  calling my Ma and others to come for rescue with a carton and old clothes and newspaper, I saw the most horrifying sight, the mother cat devoured one of her kitten even before I could remove and dump my skirt. Later I learnt that mommy cats eat one of her offspring because they stay in extreme hunger before the delivery.

Deota also loved cats and he would catch hold of them, carefully and would wet their paws in the wash-basin. He would sometimes even hold them and insert their paws inside the cat’s mouth stating “nijor hibu nijai kha” (hibu meaning the little finger in Mizo).

My classmates would puckishly comment that to visit my house they would have to take a ‘ticket’ since it was a mini zoo. When we shifted to our own house in Rukmini Nagar, the list of animals and birds increased from dogs and cats to local fowls, ducks, pigens etc. If we spotted any sick animals on the road- be it a goat, a dog, a cat or even a crow for that matter, we would nurse it till it got cured. Those were the simplest and smallest forms of happiness not divisible by any money.

The way Doog-Doog ran about when he was new to our home seemed as if a ‘dug-dug’ sound emitted, like that of the dambaru. This is how he got his name. His ears would flap like two leaves in the wind and the way he looked at us through his eyes, partially covered with a fluff of hair which ran like coconut or date-palm leaves across one end of his eyes.

Then there’s another tale: a Doog-Doog tale. This took place when our house was still under construction. Doog-Doog was kept separated from the rest of the canines because it was the mating season and was kept chained in the plot where the construction work of our house was going on. The distance between the government quarter where we stayed and our home under construction was barely 15-20 mins walk at a leisurely pace. One fine day early in the morning we woke up to his cries. The poor fellow had dragged himself all along the way with his chain still intact in his leash, crossed what is now termed the 60 Feet Road between Super Market and Last Gate. It got stuck only in our gate. Unbelievable! The dog God was with him who brought him safely back home.

Dood-Doog had another very peculiar habit. Since he was a Lhasa Apso he was irascible (like Deota) and ferocious and moody. He had long, white fluffy hair which even veiled his eyes, he just couldn’t stand anyone disturb and shake his hair arising when someone moved inside the house. And if anyone accidentally touched his body with his/ her feet he would snarl and pretend to attack, but he never bit anyone with his bright glistening sharp pointed ‘canines’. The one and only person who got bitten by him, not once but countless times is me while bathing him since he just abhorred it even during the hot sultry days.

The only time Doog-Doog became submissive was when he had to had a ‘darshan’ of the campus of the College of Veterinary Science and Hospital in Khanapara. Once in the clinic, he would shiver and shake, his tail ‘very down to earth’ and his eyes would convey to us “Do whatever you want to do with me but please don’t keep me here for too long”. Once he had developed hernia in his stomach. When he was operated, I saw him sleeping peacefully post operation under the influence of sedatives/ anaesthesia with his tongue sticking out partially, like a baby does.

Doog-Doog and Raxy were a made for each other couple even though Raxy (the female) was older than Doog-Doog by a year or so. However, their grandson Coca-Cola was a Casanova and throughout the campus he would impregnate the bitches (both the pedigree and the desis) until after a month or so we saw the pirate mask type one-eye shaded with coffee/ coco-cola (the soft drink) colour. Later on when we shifted to our new home he continued to be a play-boy in his new harem.

Coca-cola would always follow me whenever I went- be it for a walk, to my friends place nearby, to Super Market (only in name though). Initially he would only secretly follow me and would show his appearance once I was far away from home and there was no question of me returning back home.

Even though the dog squad at home were friendly with the cats at home, the former won’t let any other felines enter our compound. Once Doog-Doog chased a cat out of our compound. He kept running after the stray cat who at one point found no escape route as there was a wall so it stopped, turned back facing Doog-Doog and slapped him right in his fury face with its paw. Doog-Doog went away whimpering home after the cat attack with his tail between his hind-legs.

Raxy once became pregnant. The vet at Khanapara told us that it was still-born. However, she hgave birth to a pup who as fate would have it died after surviving for a few days. We buried the new-born in the backyard which had lots of fruit trees- mango, jamun, lemon, banana and even an orange tree. Raxy, the mother frantically searched for her baby in every room, in every square inch of our house-hold. She kept crying for her lost baby for days on end. What is mother’s love for her baby I realized quite early in life.

Doog-Doog, the father of Raxy’s babies was a loving parent for he would groom his offspring(s) well- his sons, daughters and even his grandchildren. Once the lactating phase was over he took charge of training the pups in their infancy. He would run, make the pups run, chase them, try to bit them playfully, even scaring them off sometimes. This was Doog-Doog and the pups would play together and practice their skills. During the winters when they returned home after the morning walk in the grassy lawn or in the by-lane of our house there would bedew-laced wetness around their legs against the white background of the fur-balls which Deota rightly termed as “wet muddy socks”. (reminds me of former President of the USA’s Bill Clinton’s pet cat ‘Socks’).

While the pets slept it was fun to observe their sleepy expressions- at times it looked as if  they were suckling milk from their mother’s breast or their legs would shake involuntarily while emitting feeble cry or their eyes would twitch.

The dogs also loved to dig holes and ditches and trenches on the ground, often uprooting or damaging the plants. At the end of this activity their four legs and nose would be covered with a layer of earth. It is a fact that animals can sense about the possibility of an imminent earthquake. Our pets, though not always, did show unnatural behavior by their constant barks and howls or we noticed signs of distress in their body language.

When it came to eating, esp. chicken and mutton, they would like their bowls clean. Doog-Doog, the glutton amongst all of them would not be satisfied simply licking his bowl, he would give the final touch to each of the bowl’s with his tongue until it was as good as washed. However, he had a peculiar habit when it came to eating fish. He would eat only fresh fish and would never touch stale fish. All of our pets preferred human food- rice, chicken, mutton, dal, milk, sweets etc. It was an era before ‘Pedigree’ and ‘Royal Canine’ entered the market. If there was a special occasion at home like a family member’s birthday we ensured that got their share of the cake, sweets, payash too.

Our pets rarely entered our parent’s bed-room and if they did, they would always be curious when they saw ‘another’ dog in the mirror to check ‘who is there?’ Similarly, if I took the toy dogs and kiss the toy dogs, Coca-Cola would jump and hop around me out of jealousy for the ‘other’ dog on whom I was showering all my love. It at all any of them heard the bark of a dog in the T.V. their ears would be upright in rapt attention.

When there were pups at home, we had to keep our sandals and shoes carefully otherwise the pup would nibble away with its sharp teeth. They won’t even spare our undergarments and would happy carry away any they could lay their teeth on from the clothes-horse. The old furniture esp. the legs of tables and chairs still bear the blunt of their teeth. It was Ma who would lament for the damage. She had good reasons not to love dogs and cats esp. their sharing our bed.

Malish (massage) . . . How dogs and cats love to be patted, cuddled and snuggled. Raxy was very fond when anyone rubbed fingers below hers ears and around her neck. When I would do so she would keep moving herself and place herself next to my hand for some patting. Since Doog-Doog was moody, he would only let someone (whom he liked) touch him when he was in a mood. With cats, they would immediately start purring when anyone rubs them below their face and ears and around their neck.

I was so fond to smell the scent of milk directly from the pup’s mouth when they yawned. It was the smell of freshness and purity. As a child I would always wait eagerly for the pups to open their eyes after 12-14 days and would spread the news across everyone at home when they did so. Watching them crawling and struggling to reach their mother’s teats for a draught of milk were simple pleasures for me.

My pet dogs at home were not otherwise trained, even though they were toilet trained. Thet didn’t know how to fetch a newspaper from the gate but they understood when we uttered shuh, shuh, shuh . . . (meaning to chase). One or two of them even knew how to ‘paw’ you when one commanded ‘hand shake’. It is amazing how they understand the language of love and kindness and compassion even when they don’t know how any Assamese, English or other Modern Indian Languages.

Mu neighbor Phukan aunty is very fond of cats. Even though she is bed-ridden her house-cats dot her premise. Near the gate there is a letter box, the top portion of which is layered in marble. Every morning while leaving for work I spot her there sitting comfortably over the letter box. Hence, I have named her the ‘Letter Box Mekuri’. In the evening too I spot her sitting in the same place when I go for a walk. The moment she sees me she would jump off the wall and dash towards me for a bit of massage. At times she would even claw me on my legs. L.B.M. has a peculiar habit of catching hold of her tail with her teeth and simultaneously going round and round the iron grill on the wall emitting an equally pleasing ‘meow’ for my ears. It is such a music for the senses! A very strange habit which I fail to understand what she tries to convey. 

The love of animals is selfless and unconditional, never asking for anything in return, unlike human relationships. Somehow at times I find it easier to be in the company of my four-legged friends that the two legged ones. As I grew up and fell in love with a guy whom I loved with a pure heart, who later ditched me after six years of relationship I felt devastated and depressed. The phase of depression on losing him scattered my life when I thought of ending my life. In those hours when I went through the ebb of life and didn’t know how to express my emotions I found comfort and solace in the company of my pets and stray animals. I joined PFA (People for Animals), Guwahati after attending a lecture delivered by Maneka Gandhi in Vivekananda Kendra at Uzan Bazar in Guwahati. That was during college years. I found happiness and solace in what I believed in.

In my growing up years Deota would very often narrate how The Mahabharata’s Yudhistir was followed by his faithful dog as he climbed to Heaven. I am no Yudhistir but my current pet Caesar, a Dalmatian is like my shadow. He follows me wherever I go. Before I wake up in the morning he sneaks into my room and sleeps near my bed. I don’t allow them to get on top of my bed now as they are too huge. However, a few months back, as I lay asleep in the afternoon for a short nap after lunch I saw Caesar sleeping peacefully just next to me on my bed since he found it warm, comfortable and inviting on the mattress rather than the cold mosaic floor on a wet, rainy day. I didn’t have the heart to wake him up from his sleep and ask him to sleep on the floor then.

In fact every Indian God and Goddess has a bahn (a vehicle of his/ her own). If it is the white swan for Saraswati, it is the mouse for Ganesh, snake for Shiva, cow for Krishna, lion for Ma Durga, an elephant for Vishwakarma. Hanuman, who brings Sanjivani to revive Lakshman, Lord Ram’s younger brother is a monkey. Indian mythology, folk-lore and folk-tales are galore with rich description of the part that animals play in nature. 

Pets become a part of the family; they become a family member, even if their life is very short, 10-14 years, compared to human lives. Now Caesar and Suki aka Cutie are my truest friends esp. the former. He would follow me to the drawing room if I sit for awhile to watch T.V. or in the dining room for breakfast or the afternoon lunch or evening cup of tea. Whne I write in my Deota’s library, the room next to my room connected from outside by a grilled verandah, he would give me company there even. He would prefer to sleep after settling himself in any corner in the midst of books. If for some reason he remains outside in the compound, he would catch my scent and whine, pleading me to let him enter inside.

Now-a-days, even Suki is trying to follow old Caesar’s footsteps. Perhaps due to the hot sultry weather he would spread himself spaciously in my room after Ma opens the doors and the windows in the morning and sleep for a few hours after his night duty. Suki is very alert and vigilant and doesn’t allow anyone to enter our house. He becomes all the more hawk-eyed at night, not even a stray cat can pass his radar. And at night he keeps himself occupied by chasing after rodents. During the day he can be seen lying in the coolest corner of our home usually in the corridor near the bath-room or in the front porch. Duriing summer he prefers to drink water directly from the water-tap whenever we open it to water the plants.

We don’t have pet cats anymore. But till a year back a soft ginger-coloured stray cat became ‘part pet’. He would initially stealthily come and eat pedigree from Caesar and cutie’s bowls and Hot-Spur (as I named him later after a character from the book Black Beauty) was not scared of either Caesar or Suki. In fact, he would let the two dogs play with him, sometimes pawing the tiny fur-ball who was 1/10^th the size of the two dogs. Unfortunately, we lost Hot-Spur to some infectious skin disease. I saw him becoming weak and thin in front of my eyes in spite of feeing him and the visits to the vet’s clinic in Last Gate. Later when I spotted him lying down dead behind our house I buried him in the compound under the shade of the banana plants which could be seen from my room right from my bed.

We also had a pigeon. Jonali, our helper at home got it from her home in Goreswar because Ma doesn’t take medicines when she suffers from fever, cough and cold. She prefers the meat of pigeon, something I can never digest. Paro (as I affectionately called her) was lucky because she immediately became our pet-bird. Initially we kept her in a bamboo cage since she was too young to fly. As she grew up we introduced her to the two huge pet-dogs- Caesar and Suki. They too developed an immediate liking for her. They became pet siblings after the first few introductory sessions.

We fed her raw rice and dal but as she grew up she developed a liking for Caesar and Suki’s feed which she could peck with her sharp beak. It was a sight to see Paro- the parrot play with Suki who was 20 times larger and stronger than her. Later she bloated in size. Suki would gently paw her while she in turn would pounce upon him. In their playtime, Paro would spread either of her wings and rushing towards Suki would strike him on his legs with her beak. Her only weapon of self-defense was her beak. She would not fly like other pigeons but sway her heavy body from side to side like a fat old Marwari woman while walking. Perhaps because she thought animals at home are friendly, we lost her to a stray cat who must have come from the roof of the garage and picked her up from her place. We searched for her everywhere in our compound but didn’t locate her.

It is interesting to note here how different species adapt the characteristics of the other species. Whenever I would come back home from work Paro would greet me by flying halfway to the gate but never to the gate, just like Caesar and Suki does. Ma got Paro a mate from Super Market but it flew away because Paro didn’t want her/ him at home. Now pigeons from the neighbourhood flocks our garden since we keep a bowl of water and grains. They come very often in pairs, healthy ones and all simply beautiful to look at. Our garden is also frequented by house-sparrows (who has built their nests in the trees within our compound and in our neighbourhood), Indian mynahs, and dove and not to mention the crows.

Whenever after lunch I fed a small ball of rice and dal with my hands outside my house to Caesar, a murder of crows would immediately descend for their share (if any). Caesar relishes the simple rice-balls which I mix with slight dal and after eating it would fart out loud and clear for me to cover my nose and ears.

I also keep  a separate bowl of water during summer season on the wall behind my house under the shade of our neighbour’s mango and banana plants. Throughout the day all types of birds would quench their thirst from here. Once while changing the water in the morning, I saw a bulb-holder inside the plastic container- perhaps a thank you gift from my winged friends to brighten up my days.

As of now there is a new entry- a grey and white queen cat. She never lets me touch her but would meow as soon as she sees me, sometimes alerting even the dogs of her presence. Caesar and Suki treat her as an intruder and would always chase her out of the wall. I haven’t named her yet but since she has stolen fish from the kitchen more than once I address her as Mach Chor. She has a very good sense of time and without fail she would make her presence felt behind the house, away from the dogs. If there is fish at home I give her the fish bones, else 5-6 pieces of Caesar and Suki’s feed. She would suspiciously much and won’t stay very long after her meal is over. At times when I stand near her without offering her anything she would come near me and rub her body on my legs. She would go round and round in circumambulation and emit a low and feeble meow asking for her share of food.

During my stay in Delhi where I worked for six years, I saw a grown-up pup near the Okhla Station. In the weekend I would frequent the Okhla Sabji Mandi to buy fresh vegetables and fish from the fish vendors who had built up shanty just behind the Tata office. This dog would hop like a kangaroo as its forelegs till the elbow was gone, probably it came under the wheels of a train but somehow survived. I also read in Hindustan Times, New Delhi how a western tourist who visited Kerala came back for the second time just to put ‘wheels’ to a dog who had lost both its hind legs. The Godsend angel for the creature ensured that it could move around freely.

When I was in college I saw a litter of pups- one was already on the verge of death with bleeding nose, another already dead while the third was injured but there was chances of survival, if treated. I didn’t have the heart to leave the injured pup so carried it home. Inspite of treating it, I lost him after a few days. As I saw him taking his last breath, my eyes couldn’t stop the tears, the emotional person that I am,  I still am. That was probably the first time in my life that I witnessed a living being die in front of my eyes. Later in life I witnessed two more- our kitten in Delhi when it was killed by a tomcat. The second is my husband’s death. As I reflect on these three incidents I perceive that God wanted to prepare me for such an eventuality quite early in life.

Here I would also like to mention about Rin-Tin-Tin, a ginger-coloured cat whom I found as a kitten on the road while going to my friend Tejimol Thadani’s house in the campus. The croes ehere cawing and I saw a tiny but cute kitty smaller than my palm, crawling on the road. It was scared to death because of the crows that could have attacked it. Instead of heading to my friend’s house I lifted up kitty and made a u-turn towards home. She was too small to be fed as she was still in the suckling stage. She constantly went on meowing. First my elder sister suggested that we soak cotton in milk to feed her drop-by-drop. But this process of feeding wasn’t very helpful- neither to us nor to kitty. Next we got a dropper- since we wrote with ink-pen then (Chelpark- Royal Blue). Big brother suggested an easier way- a syringe without the needle of course! My elder sister and I immediately became kitty’s foster-mother(s). We took turns to feed her with the syringe, it would suck in the milk and there it went right into her tiny mouth. As she gained strength, she mastered the art of holding the syringe with her paws, not even letting it go after the syringe became empty. After drinking milk, she would crawl onto our body, sometimes sneaking inside our t-shirt from the waist or arms and dozing off for a cat-nap. Once she even did no. 2 on my dress. As she grew up, the dogs at home accepted her as one of their own. Later as she grew up she could be seen at times munching potato skin in the kitchen. 

While shifting to our new house, our dogs went walking on chains since it wasn’t too far and traffic on the roads were light in the mid-90s but the two cats could not be shifted that way. So we got the two cats on a bag and tied it. My second brother rode the scooter while I carried the bag with our two cats inside it. They were not sedated and I don’t know what would have happened if they came out of the bag by chance. But we had Cat-God’s blessings on us. I got them inside our new home- right inside the room. Their curiosity knew no bounds as for a week or so I saw the two felines scenting and licking the walls and marking their new territory. I think they liked the new place better than the last because the ear was green and open and full of mice and rats.

Ladoo-Lal is a stray bitch in Jonaki Path. You will see her in stationed at various locations during different hours of the day in the locality. At times I see her inside/ outside Mou ba’s house, at times in front of Dutta aunty’s gate since her tenants feed her. Recently I spotted het at the gate of Phukan aunty (who has a cat). When I return after my evening walk, she would follow me, but not exactly near the gate because of Caesar and Suki. Maintaining a safe distance from them, this black-dog would patiently wait for her share of pedigree which is just a handful. I call her Laddo-Lal as the first time I spotted her in front of Dutta aunty’s house, her body was all curled up in a round shape due to the cold. She responds to her name when I call her even though I don’t know what others call her.

Traffic on Guwahati’s roads has increased ten-fold times since the 1990s. The main road is always clogged. Esp. the G.S. Road towards evening and one cannot even walk in the lanes and by-lanes now. Very often one is sure to see a mauled dog run over by a car and how it is left on the roads to stink doe days on end. People don’t even have the heart to pull the carcass to the roadside. Hence, a dog, a cat or any other animal run over by a vehicle is flattened, skin and bones; all adding a fresh layer to the metalled road. At a time when people who hits and runs in an accident won’t even spare a second to stay on the location to check if the other person is dead or alive, but vanish from the scene (due to public outcry and rampage), what are animals. Everyone is a soul. Even animals, plants and trees are one.

When it comes to superstitious belief, some Indians still take three steps backward when a black cat crosses the road. If a person moves ahead without doing this, he/ she is sure to meet with an accident or some mishappening may occur.

“A Philosopher is one looking for a black cat in a dark room where there is no cat.”

“Cats used to be burnt in the fire or roasted to death by being held over it; and while they were burning the shepherds drove their flocks through the smoke and flames as a sure means of guarding them against sickness and witchcraft.”- (The Golden Bough- Sir James Fraser).

“Cats are precisely the animals into which, with the possible exception of hares, witches were most usually supposed to transform themselves.” (The Golden Bough- Sir James Fraser, p. 657)

“In the midsummer fires formerly kindled on the Place de Grève at Parisit was the custom to burn a basket, barrel, or sack full of live cats, which was hung from a tall mast in the midst of the bonfire; sometimes a fox was burned. The people collected the ambers and ashes of the fire and took them home believing that they brought good luck.” (The Golden Bough- Sir James Fraser, p. 656).

“At Metz midsummer fires were lighted with great pomp on the esplanade, and a dozen cats, enclosed in wicker cages, were burned alive in them, to the amusement of the people.” (The Golden Bough- Sir James Fraser, p. 656).

“In the Vosges cats were burned on Shrove Tuesday; in Alsace they were thrown into the Easter bonfire. In the department of the Ardennes cats were flung into the bonfires kindled on the first Sunday in Lent; sometimes, by a refinement of cruelty, they were hung over the fire from the end of a pole and roasted alive.” (The Golden Bough- Sir James Fraser, p. 656).

During dinner time, Doog-Doog would invite Deota for his meals as he lay sleeping on his bed. Now if there was chicken or mutton his excitement knew no bounds. He would jump and hop all along the way from Deota’s room to the dining-room. Later Doog-Doog would place his head on Deota’s lap begging for a bone with his pleading eyes.

Caesar has a knack for shelling betel-nut. In our compound, we have a few betel-nut trees with betel-nut vines. Whenever it ripens and falls down on the ground, Caesar could be seen busy removing the cover of the betel-nut until the tamul came out of its cover.

Once I read an article in the InnerVoice in Hindustan Times, Delhi about how a dog was mowed down by a speeding truck in the highway in a hill-station in north India. Its faithful partner, another dog stood guard beside the skeletal remains, urging its dead partner to wake up. Some people could be very cruel towards animals- they would either cut-off a stray dog’s tail just for fun (some believe that this makes the dog stronger) or tie firecrackers in its tail and kick and beat them. I once saw a dog and a bitch copulating near my house. It was evening time and the street lights illuminated the area. Any passer-by could clearly see the dogs-on-heat-in-session. But the by-lane where the two stood was deserted when all of a sudden a young man started pelting stones at the two. I wonder how he would feel when others pelt stones at him when he is such an act. Then I also read another news capsule in The Times of India, Chennai wherein a kasai chopped off the leg of a stray dog. Luckily a good Samaritan who came to know about the incident saved the poor soul’s life. The late Khuswant Singh in his weekly column ‘With Malice towards One and All’ would very often mention about rita Devi, his neighbor who regularly feed the stray cats and dogs.

Just next to my office in Delhi in Panchsheel Shopping Centre there was an old, homeless lady. Even though the eateries in the shopping centre fed her regularly, she had stray dogs for company. In the  developed countries, there are guide dogs for those who are blind, dogs who are kept in the hospitals and assisted homes for the elderly because people with physical and mental health problems show signs of early recovery by being in the company of pets/ dogs and cats.

Recently another news article caught my eyes. It was about a ‘plea not to kill retired Army service dogs’. It came as a shock to me to read the news that the Indian Army euthanizes service dogs after their retirement or when they are found unfit or inactive. It is inhuman to kill those which have served national security of our country by sniffing bombs, hunting down enemies and dreaded terrorists. Given that service dogs render as high a patriotic service to the nation as any other by running consistently risk to their lives and limbs in undertaking jobs of providing security to the citizens of this nation against various grave threats and dangers. (The Assam Tribune, 9-July-15 [Thursday]).

Also, the ISIS (Islamic State of Syria and Iraq) fighters using chicken bomb strapped with explosives to target the enemy. Such bizarre images as appeared in the social media are not only barbaric but extremely cruel. The birds ‘chicken bomb’ strapped with explosives wander into enemy territory which is detonated via remote control. (The Assam Tribune, 22-july-15 [Wednesday]). The decision of the Government of Kerala on culling of stray dogs, Kerala no country for Dogs is gaining mass protest. The reason being there are too many stray dogs in the state which has bitten people mostly children. In Face Book captions like God’s Own Country to Dogs no Country is being circulated for animal lovers to sign petitions against such a decision of the government.

In Assam’s neighbouring state Nagaland dog meat was once considered to be a delicacy. I have heard from my friends in childhood how the Nagas prepare ‘kukur pitha’ (dog cake). I find it abominable. Now-a-days the young generation of Nagas are much more dog-friendly and don’t eat dog meat like their ancestors.

When I worked briefly in DPS, Guwahati as a subject teacher in Geography I would stand in the bus-stop opposite the Kali Mandir on G.S. Road at sharp 7 am for the school bus. Once Caesar sneaked out of the gate when I opened it. Since I couldn’t bring him back home as it would have meant missing the school bus I called Jonali- our domestic helper, to take him home. I waited near the temple but I didn’t see Jonali. I even called my elder brother as the school bus could arrive any moment. Just after the call I saw the yellow-coloured school bus approaching the bus-stand. I had to cross the road and Caesar too followed me. Luckily at 7 in the morning there is not much vehicular traffic except for the school buses. I kept a close watch on Caesar, lest he runs around. I boarded the bus and just sat down when I heard the shouts of the students in unison occupying the front seats. Lo and behold! Caesar walked towards me in the bus aisle as if he had every right to be there as long as I was inside the bus. I had to get down, to make him get down from the bus and very quickly got inside the bus and asked the helper to shut the door of the bus. When I saw him through the window he was leaving his signature (urinating) on the front wheels of the bus, below the driver’s seat. Even now I tease him jokingly if he is interested to go to school with me. He always follows me till the gate while I on my part ensure that there is no lapse from my end.

A Spanish town, with a population of just 3oo people, has become the first to recognize dogs and cats as “non-human residents” awarding them equal right to co-exist alongside their human counterparts. The town council in Trigueros del Valle, with a population of just 300, has become the first municipality in Spain to enshrine the rights of pets alongside those of human townsfolk. The council voted unanimously to define dogs and cats as “non-human residents”, giving them rights similar to men and women, according to the Local, London (as published in The Assam Tribune, 24-July-15 [Friday])

I still remember a scene from an old Hindi movie which I saw in the early 1980s. I don’t remember the name of the movie nor the actors who enacted in it. What I still remember is a dog left out in the open cold freezing winter somewhere in a hill-station. Till a week to a month of watching the movie, I thought about the dog- what must have happened to him, whether it survived in the harsh weather or was it dead?

Come Diwali and all the dogs and cats and the other animals go into hiding. As it is the sound is too loud for us humans imagine the plight of the animals which have a much large hearing range than humans do (20-20,000 Hz- human range). Hence, dogs and cats around Diwali are gripped with fear and one generally sees a dog with its tail pointed down with frightened expressions written all over its body, if one can perceive such an expression. Caesar generally takes shelter near my room outside whenever he hears the bursting of fire crackers at night whenever there is a marriage ceremony nearby. He also shivers and shakes terribly whenever there is thunder and lightning. He would whine and cry. He would peep into my room from outside through the window and even scratch my door begging me to let him in.

When it comes to medicine, my pets are just like their master. They abhor medicines. They would run and hide and never open their mouth to swallow a pill or liquid syrup. The only exception was Coca-Cola who used to lap up a particular medicine (think it was some vitamin) and lick the spoon clean.

In another book I read written by an Indian diplomat about his office tour to China, he penned down the barbaric and horrific atrocity and cruelty which he saw in a market which sold live animals. He narrated how if a customer needs a leg piece or just the tail of the animal, the poor live creature’s body part(s) would be chopped off and sold. I couldn’t eat my dinner after reading those lines.

There was a time, not long ago, when people woke up on hearing the rooster’s call or the chirping of the birds in the morning. Now even though we set alarms in our mobile phone or alarm clock, lazy ones like me would switch off the alarm and extend his/ her sleep by 5 more minutes.

Authors on animal writing- James Herriot (my favourite), Jack London et. al. and stories and fables and short stories on animals, birds and nature keeps me glued to the pages. One such is Mohammad Hanif, a Pakistani writer. His ‘Of Dogs, Faith and Imams’ is an interesting read. He writes about an Islamic fable about a prostitute and a thirsty dog and how Allah (PBUH) forgives the sins of the lady since she draws out water from the well to quench the thirst of the dog. Saadat Hasan Manto, an Urdu writer’s short story ‘The Dog of Tithwal’ (from Kingdom’s End and Other Stories) about how a dog gets killed in the Indo-Pak frontier when it runs from Pakistan border towards India, back and forth, mistaken by the border troops  across the line to be enemy movement. Another book on a pet dog ‘Marley and Me’ brought tears to my eyes towards the end.

An extract from the book ‘The Golden Bough’ by Sir James Fraser, regarded as the founders  of modern Anthropology-

“When the Kansas Indians were going to war, a feast used to be held in the chief’s hut, and the principal dish was dog’s flesh, because, said the Indians, the animal who is so brave that he will let himself be cut in pieces in defence of his master, must needs inspire valour. Men of Buru and Aru Islands, East Indies, eat the flesh of dogs in order to be bold and nimble in war.’ (The Golden Bough by Sir James Fraser, p. 529)

“After feasting on a dog, the Dacotas carefully collect the bones, scrape, wash, and bury them, “partly, as it is said, to testify to the dog-species, that in feasting upon one of their number no disrespect was meant to the species itself, and partly also from a belief that the bones of the animal will rise and produce another.” (p. 529)

I have read it somewhere that pets resemble its master and with time the latter inculcates the traits and characteristics of their pet(s). When I write this the picture which comes to my mind is my cousin brother who has a huge pot-belly and his pug pet who resembles her master is perfect shape with a protruding belly.

I fail to understand Indian’s fetish for pedigree dogs. In my growing up years it was the German Shepherd/ Alsatian (who were good watch-dogs) to Doberman, Dalmatian, Labrador, Lhasa Apso, Pomeranean. Then came the Vodafone Pug. Now we have the expensive ones like Rottweiler’s and what not - - - the Great Dane, Saluki, Chihuahua, St Bernard, Dachshund, Boxer, Coolie, Terrier, Golden Retriever, Bull Dog, Cocker Spaniel, Pekinish, Poodle and the list is endless. Little do they know  that the desi ones are the best watch dogs and don’t need much medical care oqing to its greater adaptability to the environment. But people nevertheless will buy the expensive breed dogs from the nearest breeder or seller.

An extract from The Indian Dog by Mr W.V. Soman (quoted from the book The River Dog by Mark Shand about his journey across the Brahmaputra with a pi dog Bhaiti:

“Practically every writer of the pariah dog as ill-bred, considers it a scavenger and gives it a hideous aspect. But if reared and brought up, they turn up the best dogs. They possess the best qualities which are expected in a good breed, so they deserve meriting admiration rather than simply creating a disgust and contempt for them. Considering all the qualities of he pariah dog, such a habit, character, temperament (which may appear unpleasant when in its wild stage), we must admit that they are in no way inferior to the most favoured breeds. Their sagacious and cautious behavior adds to their qualities. Their senses are very acute. They eat anything, from a decomposed body to vegetation.”

Dog Star also known as Sirius is the brightest star in the night sky in the constellation Canis Major (the Greater Dog). Deota post retirement from service became an active member of the Assam Astronomical Society and he used to deliver talks on some topic or the other in the planetarium in Guwahati. None of his children developed a taste in Astronomy, mine being limited to what is required in the study of Geography.

My years as a volunteer with the PFA was by far the best years of my life as I reflect back. On Sunday, Azam Siddique, Monoj Sarma and Minakshi Sarma and I would meet in Sangeeta Goswami’s house at Uzanbazar wherein we would discuss and execute on issues related to cruenty against animals and on animal welfare. Sangeeta Goswami ma’am would fry kath aloo and smear butter on it and serve us a cup of black tea in the evening meets. Later I lost touch with the organization (Guwahati chapter) when I moved over to Delhi for higher studies.

The small group of four active members headed by Sangeeta Goswami went to Khanapara, Chenikuthi, the whole-sale goat market in Bharalu either for threatment of injured or sick animals- dogs, horse, goat, cat, cow etc. or to submit memorandum to the D.C. (Kamrup) office. Rescuing dogs, cats, goats were easy considering their size, no matter how aggressive or ferocious the animal could be. There was a horse whose leg was badly maggot-infested. Bringing it to the Government Hospital in Chenikuthi was a herculean task. The beast won’t get inside the lorry but after much effort from the team we managed to transport it from Lakhtokia to Chenikuthi. The doctors recommended mercy-killing (euthanasia) as its condition was incurable. That was the first time I saw an animal put to sleep. Within seconds to a minute it breathed its last.

In another visit to Chenikuthi Hospital Azam and I saw a peon sleeping, as he sat on a stool in front of the officer’s room. Azam being witty by nature remarked “That fellow knows how to ‘behave’ in a government office.” I realized how slowly government file moves from one table to another during such frequent visits. Every officer/ official is always ‘busy’ attending meetings or with work that they just cannot and do not have ample time to read the content in the files and forward it to the higher-ups. The result is it gathers dust with time.

The four active members of PFA Azam Siddique, Monoj Sarma, minakshi Sarma and I later in life chose different lines. Azam became the cameraperson with NDTV, guwahati and later on moved to New Delhi. Minakshi Sarma went to Bengalore for higher studies and later settled in Delhi. Monoj Sarma became the marketing head of North-East for sometea company. I accidentally met Monoj after more than a decade during a live concert by Lou-Majow in Café Hendrix. Minakshi was in tough with me, once or twice she even came to my house in Delhi. Azam married a Married girl who is a vet by profession. He is the one who still continues to silently and single-handedly work on animal welfare esp. elephants and visited a few countries across different continents.

Since I worked in a publishing house, once or twice in a year the employees got books at a discount from the company’s book sale. During one such sale my eyes fell on a book The River Dog- A Journey Down the Brahmaputra by Mark Shand (Abacus Book). While going through the Acknowledgement I spotted their name along with Ms Sangeeta Goswami. Immediately I called Azam to let him know the news. The book is about a wonderful account of an epic journey and a touching portrait of the friendship between  traveler and his dog- Bhaita (a pi-dog) [pariah].

Come summer, and with the change of season, the coat which grew during winter, came off their furry bodies like autumn leaves. It would be dog hair on the floor, dog hair on the bed and when the fan was switched on, it would be just around everywhere. How Ma would complain! But her children (and even the dogs) heard it from from ear and it was out through the other. That was the time when I became a barber for a day or two for my dogs. First customer was always Doog-Doog, otherwise if he got wind of it he would never come out of his nook. The tail was the most prestigious part so I always left it for the last. First it was the thick white fur from the body, from the neck down, then the stomach and legs. I had to be very careful while running the scissor in front of his eyes to chop off his ‘hair veil’ which covered his eyes. Even with it ‘on’ in front of his eyes, he could see perfectly well. Once or twice if the scissor’s end touched his body (and not his hair) he would yelp or bare his teeth showing a near row of white canines. After the hair-cut was over everyone looked much younger in age. J I often got the weird idea of utilizing their soft fur commercially, on the lines of sheep-rearing in Australia and New Zealand, to stuff the pillows, quilts and blankets but it never saw the light of the day.

Removing lice and tick off their bodies was another ceremony of its own. Only one who loves animals (pets I mean) and also loves removing it manually will know. When the battalion went for a walk morning or evening the tiny creepy creatures would crawl onto their fragile and delicate bodies and suck litres and litres or blood. Post globalization when soap bars, shampoo and anti-lice/ anti-tick medicines flodded the market, like our annual floods in Assam, it didn’t take long to get rid of the menance. Prior to this, lifebuoy- the pink-coloured bar, was the best soap which gave a fresh and clean shine to their tuft of hair. I came to know only recently that Lifebuoy in the developed countries is a soap for the animals but in India all every house-hold had one for their regular ‘human’ bath.

When I relook into my past I always feel that I should have pursued a degree in B.V.Sc. like my second brother. My love for the four-legged ones and my passion to take care of them, the God-gifted art of handling them (the smaller sized), nurturing and nursing them which is something I have imbibed  from childhood should have made me a good vet, or what I perceive my life should have been but in H.S. I opted for Arts with Geography, Political Science, Logic and Philosophy and Economics. Even now I take out time once in a while, if not always, to do some voluntary work related to animal welfare. One such organization is JBF- Just Be Friendly, founded by Dr Sashanka Sekhar Dutta. Behind every successful man there is a woman. His wife Dr Smriti Dutta also a vet by profession, is his support and pollar of strength. I met Dr Sashanka while in Delhi and Gurgaon and we were in touch even when I relocated back to Guwahati. Dr Sashanka and his dedicated team has been instrumental in implementing the ABC (Animal Birth Control) along with GMC plus a horde of activities worth-mentioning. The dog rescue centre at ALPCO, Panjabari in Guwahati shelters and treats injured and sick dogs which are later released into the original locality from where the canine was rescued. The NGO runs on funds donated by generous people who are kind and compassionate towards God’s other creations.

Reminiscing the visits to my maternal grandparents village Hajo, an hour’s drive from Guwahati, brings back fond memories. Koka, my maternal grandfather loved and cared for his cows like his own children. Clad in white dhoti and white kurta, he would feed, wash, clean and even milk them. Even though we didn’t drink milk directly from the cows, as shown in Hindi movies and songs, we were lucky to drink a glass of pure and fresh milk. Even when his grandchildren (from his seven children) were around he would often be seen busy in the cow-shed.

The cats in my Koka-Aita’s house would always, without fail, give birth to tiny ‘mekuris’ (Assamese for cats) in their granary which was adjacent to the kitchen. Aita would prepare tasty and mouth-watering machor-jul (fish curry) with ou tenga (elephant apple), ridge gourd, ash gourd etc. We were always served meals in kahor kahi (bell-metal), Hajo being famous for bell-metal small-scale industry. We had our meals served on the ground in the kitchen. I enjoyed while sitting in the pirhas. If we were late in coming for our meals someone had to stand guard as the cats would carry off the fish from the plates.

There was a wooden chair in the verandah where Koka sat in the evening and talk to anyone who was around as they sat in the benches. Under his chair, the house-cat would occupy her/ his place and silently meditate. This is the picture of my Koka which has been ingrained in my mind. On the day when Koka passed away, I noticed the cat sitting under his chair with (believe me or not) two small rivulets of tears flowing from its eyes. Animals can also sense the loss of someone. At times I feel the love which I have for animals is genetic, ingrained in me from my Koka, if not for cows (since we didn’t have one at our home) perhaps to the other four-legged beings). There was also the round of talks amongst the elderly people, which I happen to eavesdrop, that someone while going to the toilet at night saw the ghost of Koka clad all in white in the cow-shed.

I never met my paternal grandparents- both breathed their last much before I was born. But I always loved to go to Golaghat where all my aunts and uncles lived. Xoru-Borta’s house was like a farm-house. He had cows, goats, ducks, hen, pigeons, dogs and cats (did I miss out any other?). I always preferred to stay at his house because of the presence of the horde of animals. He was a teacher by profession and was very hard-working. Even after retirement he kept himself busy within his animal kingdom. Clad in a lungi, with sickle in hand, he would cut the grass which he fed to the cows and goats and give dana (feed) to the pigeon-widgeon. At his place I learnt the synonym of murgi (hen) which is a kukura. In Guwahati we call a hen a ‘murgi’ so when I uttered murgi all my cousins laughed at me. The list extends to countless another such words- dingi or gol, khando-guri or gura khanda, heta or korash, poitashura or telbhokia. That is the problem of being a mongrel-a cross-breed between upper Assam and lower Assam. Phew!

After my HSLC examination was over I went to Golaghat. This was during Rongali Bihu or Bohag Bihu. I consider myself to be lucky to witness once in my lifetime what Goru Bihu (Cow Bihu) is all about in rural Assam. While in Dispur we would carry buckets of water and wait for any stray cows near the Post Office field with a bamboo stick with pieces of gourd, brinjal etc. to beat the cow with, as is the custom in Assam on Goru Bihu and would pray:

                         “Lou kha, bengena  kha, borore-bosore barhija,

                                Ma xoru, Baper xoru toi holi bor-bor goru”.

I quote Sir James Fraser again from The Golden Bough:

“Similarly in New Caledonia a man will beat his taro plants lightly with a branch, saying as he does so, “ I beat this taro that it may grow’ after which he plants the branch in the ground at the end of the field.”      

Behind Borta’s house was a pond where he and his children took the cows for bathing, gave them new ‘pogha’ and recited the above prayer for the cow to eat well and grow well.

My second aunt’s daughter Bhantina ba was an ardent cat lover. I also loved to go to her house because of the cats. There would be cats and kittens of all shapes and sizes but generally of the same colour.. Her cats and kitties would always respond to her calls. During winters the cats would be seen in the kitchen near the ‘chulha’- traditional stove and during meal time they would take their positions in the place where meals were served. Once when Pehi placed the woods in the chulha and lit the match-stick, out sprang a cat (like from a magician’s hat) from it. Cats are the best connoisseur of warmth. The poor cat’s whiskers may have been burnt but its life was saved.

Childhood days are also those days when I got to see animal shows/ games performed by monkey, bears and snakes. Occasionally a snake-charmer with one or two snakes in a basket or a madari accompanied with 1-2 monkeys or bears, playing the dambaru would attract our attention. On listening to the madari’s call the neighbourhood kids would in no time assemble in the Post-Office field encircling the person and his tamed animal. Even the aunties would join us to take a short break from their domestic chores. The snake-charmer would play his beena while the serpent(s) would gyrate and sway, putting to shame even an Egyptian belly dancer. Similarly, it was great fun and entertainment for us to watch the monkey or the bear show. When it was over, we were expected to drop a coin or a one rupee/ two rupees note. Those were also the days when one could go to watch a circus with his/ her parents. The acrobatic skills of the performers as they swing high up in the air from one trapeze to another, the leap of a tiger or lion through a ring of fire, the comedy show performed by a clown is still etched in my memory. Childhood days were such a time when even a visit to the zoo was so fun-filled.

Cats are also very curious. Hence, whenever Deota had to go outside on tours, Ma would keep the suit-case and bags outside in the sun for awhile (since Assam has a humid climate during summer), a day or two before his tour. The cats would creep inside and scratch and play and go off to sleep for a cat-nap.

Clipping the nails of our dogs, like the hair-cutting ceremony was a dexterous job. Both (the animals and the person) needs patience, skill and precision to do a fine job. With grown-up pups and young dogs, their nail gets trimmed naturally with friction due to constant movement but for an old dog, due to less physical movement it can grow rapidly and even take a curve-shape. Once or twice in a year later we took our pets for trimming their nails to a pet clinic near the Ganesh Mandir.

There was also a black bitch called Jack (‘she’ had ‘he’ characteristics and hence a masculine name). She was huge in size, somewhat bigger than the local dogs. Once she gave birth to a litter of pups. My elder sister Pahari was about to feed her bhat-dal when she sank her teeth on Pahari’s hand. It was during those days when one had to take not 14 injections in one’s stomach for dog bites. Mother’s of all species become aggressive and protective for their young ones and hence I learnt quite early in life that one ought not to go near them, esp. when they are not your pets. I too have been scratched and bitten countless times by my pets even my friend-cum-neighbour’s pet and took the dosage of anti-rabies injections, not in my stomach though.

Bumon and Mimi are my next door neighbour’s children. Their parents usually take a walk in the evening in the cul-de-sac that leads to my house.  The older of the two Bumon commented “Caesar’s mother” while referring to me when I met him on my way for the evening walk.

Near Anand Kindergarten School where I studied Nursery and K.G. before joining St Mary’s Guwahati, there was a pack of desi dogs and all the dogs had prestigious names- the brown coloured with a cut in its nose was Reagan (after Ronald Reagon), Garbachev (after Mikhail Gbachev, Bush (after George Bush Sr.) et. al.

There was another brown Coolie dog named Jackie, very gentle but alert and vigilant. One of her pups was named ‘Bheta Kona’ because even when we placed his food he would take time to locate it (not that he was blind). Once Bheta Kona overate and couldn’t move an inch of his body. Because he was as alert and vigilant, he was given to Xoru Borta in Golaghat where he lived happily amidst the other farm animals.

The Rig Veda teaches us to behave with animals like our family members. We must be kind and compassionate towards God’s creations. “It takes nothing from a human to be kind to an animal.” As his Holiness The Dalai Lama rightly say “If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion”. “You never regret being kind”- Nicole Shepherd.

Recently a post which went viral in facebook is of a maggot-onfested dog left inside a plastic bag and dumped in front of NDMC Hospital at Motibagh in New Delhi. Luckily she was rescued by a good Samaritan and taken to SPCA-NOIDA. One such similar incident happened when I was in Digboi at my elder brother’s place. My eldest brother Bhaskar and Bou were in Mumbai and Ma and I went there to take care of my two nephews. The younger one who also loves animals was unwell so in the late afternoon I took him to the AOD Hospital across the road perched on top of a hillock.  While returning we took a de-tour, the longer, circuitous route across the hillock. As we were just about to reach the crossroad I saw some movement inside a bag. We retraced our steps and to my utter surprise I saw there were 4-5 puppies- all females, inside the bag (a bazaar kora muna). Those were just dumped on the roadside over the narrow grassy patch. So I took them to the broad grassy and bushy triangular island which led off to another bungalow. I couldn’t take the pups home so I fed them biscuits, bread everyday and twice in a day went to give them water. Jimmy would be cajoled and enticed with kata biscuit to come along with me. The milk which flowed from her teats and fed the famished pups must have been divive food for them. Just below the bungalow were a row of houses where the helpers stayed. Even they would feed the pups as I saw leftover rice-dal. One fine day when I went to check on them I saw that none of the pups were there. Someone must have adopted them, if not someone rich moneywise, someone with a rich heart did so.

While still in Digboi, one day three persons – two ladies and a gentleman approached my brother’s bungalow. Ma was reading the Assamese newspaper in the verandah and was basking under the morning sun of the winter. The person asked Ma- “Eyat puwali ase neki?” (Is there any puwali [baby] here?). To which she replied “Ase, eta ase.” There is one pointing to the pup. Needless to say, those persons were for Pulse Polio Drive. When I heard the conversation I corrected Ma since they meant ‘human child’ and not a pup. That pup was Tom-Tom which I found one morning while out for a morning walk. Jimmy, a brown bitch near my brother’s bungalow had given birth to 5-6 pups. She had some skin disease and very soon it spread to her pups. Even though I got betadine and cotton and applied it to both the mother and her pups, Digboi’s severe winter took its toll on them. The mother survived but unfortunately none of her pups. One was mowed down by a car on the road. This is when Tom-Tom came into her life. Once I went for a morning walk and near the Naan Ghar I saw an abandoned pup moaning and hiding behind the garage. The next moment the pup and I was heading home, he sitting on my crossed hands. The moment I placed Tom-Tom, he ran towards her thinking it to be his mother and straightaway headed for her teats. It was famished also. Jimmy’s maternal love poured out into him as she allowed him to suckle from her breast. Such is a mother’s love.

‘The savage believes that animals are endowed with feelings and intelligence like those of men, and that, like men, they possess souls which survive the death of their bodies either to wander about as disembodied spirits or to be born again in animal form.” (Sir James Fraser- The Golden Bough)

After I returned to Guwahati I received a call from my nephew few months later stating that Tom-Tom passed away. The plump pup whom I bathed and cared for, albeit for a few days, was no more. How my heart ached. His life was short but he lived long- in Jimmy’s and mine.

After Raxy’s death, Doog-Doog stopped going for a walk altogether. All of a sudden he became old. The zeal, liveliness, playfulness- everything vanished into thin air. Death of a pet at home meant a pall of gloom, as if a family member left us forever. Pets are not just animals. They become family. Everyone would cry, even Ma would lament at the loss. Our pets were always buried in our compound and we always planted a tree next to it so that the soul of our pet transmigrates to that of the plant or the tree which we could nurture and nourish.

Doog-Doog lived for 14 years and he left us in 2004. His descendents are all gone. The last one to go was Nutty who came under the wheels of my brother because he couldn’t see properly in old age. I was in Delhi when Pankaj called me to break the news. The very next day I lost my husband Arunabh (R.I.P.). Perhaps it was jinxed or was God’s prophesy to warn me that something bad was inevitable.

Suki is in a way not very well-trained as he would clamber over us to greet or pass past us between our legs, rubbing his whole body and leaving his black hair over our clothes and even lick our hands and leave his drooling saliva wherever possible. When my nephew Jonathan plays with the football with his friends on holidays and weekends, Suki has to be kept indoors. The moments he hears the sound of the football hitting the wall or the gate, he would constantly bark from the beginning till the end of the game for not allowing him to play with the ball. That is why I fondly call him ‘Pele’ as well. All the doors of our house in the ground floor have his scratch marks. If he can’t grab a football or any other ball, he would presume an empty plastic water-bottle

Nobody can beat Suki in snoring. When I heard him snore for the first time, I thought that there was a guest at home who had come to our place and was sleeping. He makes a human-snoring sound, in fact much louder than a human’s.

Add:

Vulture, cattle egret (bogoli) gone even the hills and the mountains are gone forever.

In the 80s and 90s when Guwahati was still green (green with a capital G), Indian mynah locally known as Xalika, cattle egret (bogoli), vulture and such other local as well as migratory birds would flock the quiet little town that Guwahati was 3-4 decades back. Vultures of varied species have been disappearing from the region since the late 90s, largely due to poisoning (‘diclofenac’ [a painkiller] used as a medicine for cattle but a poison for the vultures).

As children we would sing “one for sorrow, two for joy, and three for letter . . .” when we saw them in single, twosome, threesome resp. When there was rain and sunshine simultaneously we would sing “Roodu dise boroxunu dise, xora xiyalor biya, ghor-chirikai tamul katise amaku ekhon diya.” (There is rain as well as sunshine, the tailless fox is getting married, the house-sparrow is cutting the betel-nut, give us one too) [Betel-nut is used in marriage invitation and wedding ceremonies across Assam].

The bogolis could be seen flying in the clear blue sky or in the paddy fields amidst the scraw-crows. As children we believed that the birds would leave white marks in our fingers if we uttered “Bogoli boga phut di ja.” (Bogoli, give us white marks in our finger nails). Gone are the green paddy fields and with it we don’t get to see the bogolis any more in Guwahati.

The trees has been axed, the hills and hillocks that once surrounded Guwahati has been either encroached or blasted due to rock quarrying activity. We have severed the umbilical cord with mother earth by reducing our green hills. The tree nests for birds, which are their natural homes, has been felled to make room for houses, roads, industries, rendering the avian species homeless. The butterfly and caterpillar which is an important indicator of environmental health has also diminished in number. The habitat of the wild animals is shrinking day-by-day as we encroach their territory. With the ever rise in human population esp. in our country, the biodiversity is threatened so much so that many plants and animal species are either on the endangered list or are already extinct from earth without us even knowing it. There is a huge imbalance in the food chain and food web. Deota in a simple way explained to me the concept of food chain- how the population of the tiger would go up if there is plenty of deer meat (venison) for them to eat in the jungle. Then a time will come when the deer population would come down so that the tigers would starve to death. When the tiger population decreases due to paucity of food, slowly the deer population would again increase. And so on and so forth. The fine balance of nature has been irreversibly damaged.

The man-animal conflict esp human settlement in elephant corridor.

Every year the electronic and the print media in Assam highlights about the sighting of leopards and other big cats. People ruthlessly kill the beast with spears, arrows and dao for they now occupy their territory. Bears are stoned to death. There is the problem of monkey menace in a few pockets at not only in Guwahati (just like in other Indian cities) but even in the villages of Assam. The troops come out and raid the houses in search of food since fruit trees are few and far between compared to what it was in the past. Elephants are even run over by trains because there is now a railway line passing across Deepor Beel, Guwahati’s largest natural fresh-water lake which falls in the elephant corridor. In upper Assam, the pachyderms use the tea-estates as fodder, shelter and for passage while leopards, rhinos, along with several migratory and local birds are also spotted. These cha-bagans (tea-estates) as it is locally called, could be transformed into safe haven for the wildlife

Elephant habitat and corridors. Aqua life, avian life and terrestrial life.

In our campus cows and goats were abound since plenty of grass was available naturally then. Few families kept cows in their rear plot even though there was not much space in the quarter but people kept it nevertheless. The bovines and the goats would loiter within the whole campus chewing grass from the narrow street sides and the parks and grassy fields at a leisurely pace, would bask under the winter sun or during summer rest under the shade of the huge trees and towards cow dust time would head home. There was no goru-chur (cow thief) then.  Recently I heard that in districts like Dhubri and Goalpara in Assam bordering Bangladesh, cattle are stolen and illegally sold off in the markets across the border. One such case was of a cow thief caught in Dhubri who stole a cow and painted him. The cow which escaped from the clutches of his kidnapper came moaning back home to his owner. The thief who came again to claim his lost cow was thrashed by the public after the owner recognized his cow albeit with a different colour. Yet in another incident in Dergaon in upper Assam, the driver’s (a gang of 4 cattle lifters) limbs were chopped off and his body thrown on NH-37 when he was caught red-handed by villagers.

Ma- Vermicompost, kitchen waste- dug the earth to enrich the soil.

Ma often dug a small pitch in our backyard to fill it in with the kitchen waste. This was an era before killer-plastic came into existence. With a shovel in hand, she would set to work on shoveling the earth and mixing the soil with the organic kitchen waste. I got first-hand knowledge on how to enrich the soil before even learning from the school text books. The result was mango, banana, jackfruit, papaya, coconut, jamun and pumpkin, teasel gourd, ash gourd, bottle gourd and kosu (yam) and other ferns and herbs grew plenty in our kitchen garden.

Ma and Deota would bring all types of saplings and seeds (even branches) and planted it in our house whenever they went on a tour, so much so that our house looked like a dense jungle. Deota was so attached to his plants and trees that he would not even allow Ma or the gardener to cut off any branches of the trees or to trim the plants/ trees. Initially we had only one mango tree which every alternate year bore us sweet and juicy fruit. After eating the mangoes we very often threw the seed in the backyard. The result is we got to eat the fruits of those mango trees the seed of which we threw in the soil as a child. Assam’s soil is so fertile and the rainfall so heavy that seeds thrown in the soil germinates quickly. All those of you who travel from west India towards Assam will easily notice how green our state is. If one takes a flight from Delhi to Guwahati, the aerial view is very breath-taking and captivating. Just before reaching the city, the entire landscape looks like a green carpet with the meandering rivers and tributaries of River Brahmaputra. As a student who studied in Delhi for higher studies, the train journey was equally pleasing for not only the eyes but for the mind as well. With every-not-so-clean-stations amidst the sea of green, we inched towards home.

The two rose plants were the most ornamental treasure in our garden. Ma would very often ask me to go and add the egg shells and the tea leaves (without sugar) after our cup of black tea. Come summer and the two rose plants in full blossom filled the air with fragrance of freshness. The pink bougainvillea right in front of our verandah kept the surroundings cool.

Plastic introduction

Our growing up era was one which was plastic free. We had brown paper packets then. We always carried a bazaar kora muna (a bag esp. meant for marketing) from home when we had to buy something from the market. Vegetable and fruit vendors never kept any plastic bags with them then because there were none at that time. Now-a-days many of us never care to carry such a bazaar kora muna to the market. Such a simple effort from our end can make a huge impact to the environment. There will be less use of plastic which is non-biodegradable. We teach our children to protect the environment, we talk about sustainable development and what not, when we can and we must cut down on plastic use. People directly dump the kitchen waste in a plastic which finds its way in the city’s garbage bins, wherein our ‘holy’ cows directly chew the waste and the plastic and die a silent, pitiable death. Our city drains are clogged with plastics; there is flash-flood in Guwahati whenever it rains cats and dogs, the Bahini noi, which runs parallel to the G.S. Road in Dispur, in now but a filthy drain, a floating-watery dump river of plastic cups and plates, polythene bags, bottles, chips packets, chocolate wafers and whatever could be thrown and discarded. There is no sign of life in the once tributary of River Brahmaputra which meets the river near Bharalumukh.

Just next to our house, there is a plot, an empty plot of land- a disputed one amongst 2-3 ‘owners’ which is another neighbour’s direct dumping ground. This owner who served in the Forest Department under the GoI has a handloom weaving centre right next to the plot run by his industrious wife. All the workers bin their waste in this empty piece of land. It emits an obnoxious smell 24x7, more so when it rains and the plastic and other materials float in the water for days at end.

Termed as the ‘forest man’ as well as a ‘green warrior’, Jadav Molai Payeng, has been a lodestar in planting trees in the char areas along river Brahmaputra in upper Assam. From what started as a simple passion ever since he was a teenager in a small sand-filled island (locally called char) of the Brahmaputra  Aruna Chapori, he has been untiringly on an afforestation drive changing the sandbars into rich sylvan zones. His passion for planting saplings and nurturing them has lead to the luxuriant growth of trees in a forest area stretching over 2000 hectares. He has been conferred with the Padma Shri in 2015. If only we had clones of Jadav Moloi Payeng, our sky and the sea would be a shade bluer and our earth a shade greener. After all, mundane experiences, such as hearing the sound of water flowing or the buzzing of the bees among flowers has a tremendous impact on our overall well-being.  The green and blue space of nature has the power to rejuvenate us.

There were more trees than cars, more swamps and paddy fields than shopping centres and apartments, more birds and animals than people, more peace and tranquility than the maddening rush, the constant honking of vehicles.

 Pigeon-coop kath.

Post-retirement Deota would feed dal to the pigeons.

UG in Kabita’’s house- Fluffy dragged it through the drawing room.

Munmi- Caesar’s kiss right on her face, just a month before her elder brother’s marriage.