Trusted and loved by dogs
Now that winter is upon us, have you heard of that robin who sang through the icy weather? Although nobody had the zeal to pause and…
Now that winter is upon us, have you heard of that robin who sang through the icy weather? Although nobody had the zeal to pause and listen to her songs — let alone enjoy the sustained performance — her efforts didn’t go in vain, for she added a background score to an otherwise gloomy sylvan setting. There are many factors involved in making life what it is and music has to be one of them. Thanks to the robin’s persistence, the balance of nature was maintained. Now, here’s the part where the plot thickens and blood flows: apparently, somebody shot the robin and even while falling from the branch, she kept singing. Maybe there is a metaphor here for people who add a layer of warmth to those suffering from cold stares and handshakes.
The recent income tax report by the government should burn a hole in our collective conscience. Here is a country whose citizens are literally allergic to paying their taxes. The usual suspects shell out money — not out of choice but due to design — while the majority pretend to ignore the fact that countries run on taxes. Although my sympathies for the middle class is questionable at best, and putative at worst, one can’t deny the shoulders that are busy carrying the fiscal responsibilities so effectively (not efficiently though). By far reach of imagination, the middle class is like Abhimanyu from Mahabharata. He is stuck inside the Chakravyuh but the only difference being he is not going to die anytime soon.
Half a year later, in March of 2020, I’d have completed a decade of self-imposed public silence on Twitter. It was an impulsive decision, based on the realization of wasting so much time talking to fellow Twittervasis back then when Twitter used to be a chirpy (no pun intended) place. A lot of my acquaintances were mildly shocked by my refusal to engage on tweets but then there was DM inbox to clarify and continue our chats privately. In hindsight, the whole idea worked brilliantly as well as flopped miserably. Worked brilliantly because I ended up saving so much energy on NOT having to explain any of my tweets/thoughts to anyone. Flopped miserably because I ultimately curtailed my overall reach on the platform; nobody likes a seemingly pompous person who is anti-social on a social networking site. Interestingly, over the years, I’ve loosened up on other platforms like Instagram and Facebook by responding to queries. Fortunately, I’ve made good online friends too, some very good. I can’t really complain.
As long as dogs are a part of our civilization, we will be absolutely fine. The world won’t have a mental breakdown and there won’t be an apocalypse either. There is not a geography where dogs haven’t contributed to our well-being: from the snowy Tundra to the dry Sahara, from the rainy Sumatra to the Tibetan plateau, these four-legged angels are everywhere. With their wagging tails, furry demeanor and restless tongues, they make our lives better than it deserves to be. If nothing else, dogs teach us how to love selflessly. Ever noticed a street dog with an injured leg — let’s call him Langda Tyagi — and how he doesn’t think twice before approaching a human with his disarming vibe? And this despite the possibility that a human must have damaged his limb in the first place? How does a so-called animal learn to trust so blindly? Can we blame this mad twist of behaviour on evolution? Or is it plain stupidity?
As an unfit person (read: me) once said in a gathering of ridiculously health-conscious folks, “Fitness is a state of mind.” However, as the years pile on our body, creating ugly love handles or worse, we are forced to look at the healthier picture. One doesn’t have to hit the gym for a complete body makeover. Baby steps can go a long way too. Stretching regularly, having light but timely meals, adopting an old out-of-touch sports like badminton/squash/etc., consuming plenty of fluids, making sure fruits and vegetables are adequate, walking aimlessly out of the city… are some of the achievements worth unlocking, no? After all, everything, whether positive or negative or neutral, is in our head only.
Parents grow old before turning into kids again. For somebody who raised you, one afternoon, they will utter the most insane of words at the most inappropriate moment, compelling you to question your existence. Well, that’s the cycle of life. Remember all the weird sounds you made as a baby? Payback time. Yet, there will be instances when time will caress you with soft reckonings about our shared brittleness. At any given point, your parents can leave you, never to come back. In fact, you secretly hope it’s never the other way around because they can’t bear to live with you gone. This, again, is beyond our control. Parenthood is a fulfilling task but is far from complete. To put it diametrically, it runs in a loop. Your parents used to check your forehead to see if you’re okay. There will be nights you’ll return home to check whether they are breathing.
I’ve promised a dear friend of mine that I will be a new person before the end of 2019. It’s a work in progress but if everything works out according to the plan, I will be transforming myself into a paragon of positivity. There will no space left in me for cynicism. So much so that light might radiate from my skin making the sun redundant for the first time in 4.6 billion years.
It’s always nice to see Indians flourish on the other side of the Atlantic. Once you take a desi out swades, they do very well for themselves. So, when the news of Abhijit Banerjee winning the Nobel Prize for Economics became public, I was obviously filled with a misplaced mirth. How many countries, especially those as backward as ours, can claim to have so many laureates? But in the mix of emotions, I completely forgot that I’d seen Dr. Banerjee in flesh. This happened in the winter of 2012 in Bombay. It was a wonderful session, hosted by Aakar Patel, where he spoke about the role poverty (read: economically disadvantaged folks) plays in our society. That cloudy day, he shared a lot of insightful tidbits but the one that has remained with me all these years is how poor people, on earning a little bit more money, spend it on entertainment instead of upgrading their nutrition. Quality food can wait. After all, a second-hand TV or a wound-up radio is equally important to live as a human.
On this blog, I’ve always reiterated the naked merit of understanding politics but not at the cost of being political. Apart from reading and learning more and more about the ways of the world, it’s necessary to come up with our own theories. Failing which, we’ll let others (influential much) think and opine for us. Autonomy of thoughts is non-negotiable. For instance, you must have heard it being said over and over again that India doesn’t have an opposition party given how weak they are; strictly electorally speaking because morals don’t matter here. Granted even if that is true, has anybody noticed that there is no ruling party either. It’s a one-man party, particularly after the back-to-back demise of some of the most cherished stalwarts, and it’s hard to imagine who will take over when the Big Man steps aside — if at all, he does, that is.
Even though I’ve dedicated a paragraph on dogs already, let me add one more. This pertains to their habits, both good and bad. My friend’s dog is mischievous and is bound to destroy anything in his path. He won’t stop at anything once he sets his eye on it, be it a poor monstera plant or sofa or even the electrician. Yet, he is beautiful because he won’t let anything happen to his adopted human mother. Similarly, there are dogs who are monkishly calm and don’t bother you at all. For instance, Ranga. He can spend the entire day on his own in the apartment without moving a thing. All he needs is his grub and the balcony door ajar and occasional trespassing by pigeons to keep his primitive spirit active. Top of the chart are the canines who are almost humane in their mannerism. Cookie, my wife’s late dog, was one such soul. Once there were guests at home and in the ensuing din, the family forgot to take her out for her daily walk. She tried to gesture repeatedly but the signal wasn’t intercepted and in desperation, Cookie peed in the corner of the bedroom. Cool, but the interesting part of this story is she did it and then sat next to her puddle of urine with her head hanging low. She was ashamed of herself and wanted to draw attention to the mess she created when it was not even her fault.