Chhori

 

Four months have gone by. 

I no longer wake up hoping it is her I will wake up to. But the heaviness that came upon me in the days right after losing her stays with me. I wake up with a heaviness, which no longer looks for her familiar face around the house. 

I walk up to her portrait once a day and say hi, like she would hear me. She doesn't. But there's a feeble hope in seeking permanence. In that hope is the longing to put my arms around her again and to say thank you for all the love I received. Only, now I can't.

You know how we keep hoping to find love? I had hoped for it all my life without knowing I had all the love I deserved right in front of me in the form of this girl. And she loved me-- tenderly, fiercely. sometimes with irritation and anger, but she loved me.

I no longer know how to write about anything because I don't know how to write about her. This one, who I have loved the most.

From Chhori

It just never occurred to me what it might be like to get a mother's day wish before this one arrived from my student on behalf of my pup, who i fondly call Chhori. Chhori has been my baby ever since she arrived in my life, just weeks after I had miscarried. She's been the centre of my life through all these years, even as things like work, friends, food, sex, arguments, etc, took up so much of my time.
I often wonder how it is that I got so lucky with all the dogs in my life.
Ba often jokes that Chhori watches over me as I sleep because she must think I'm her daughter. Well, she wakes me up with a toy on my pillow every morning, so who knows? :)
But that got me thinking about how pups are babies till the time they're younger than you. And then half way through their life, they are already older than you, and you start wishing they lived as long as you might.

a room of one's own

chhori's ears perk up at the sound of the bells. the pooja continues in the front porch. i am not a part of it. station ids, news flash, scroll updates- i'm more at home in this world of clicks. real people are at a distance. i'm burrowing within myself. 

Week

1. it became impossible to hear the boy wailing "i'm a good boy," limping in the hospital hallway, his urine suspended in a pouch, his mother held. i don't know if he thought repeating the words would lessen the pain. he walked his five year old self back and forth, depressing the life out of me, as i sat with several others who were waiting on their relatives. the boy's suffering became so unbearable at one point of time, just before they took him back into the room that i thought i would jump off a great height.

2. they shattered ajee's red bangles with a little tool they found in the drawer. when the howl began, i went immediately on my knees and caught the bangles before they fell on the floor. i collected them all in my palms and took them downstairs to where bajyaa lay oblivious to all the crying and praying. they all started at me in disapproval. only widows break and hold those bangles. you're not supposed to look. you've brought bad luck on yourself.

3. afternoons are precious little whiles i dash the tea, kiss kanchu and mamu and rush to the tempo stand- all the while, wanting to linger a little longer around these two, who form the largest chunk of my every day.

Saturdays with Aki

Aki's fur is soft against my feet. That's her favourite place to be. Sometimes, she raises her head, her chin perched on my thighs and looks out at the world, like she was an old woman, brooding over a major problem.

Aki is such an attention-seeker! Like me. Narcissist too. The other day, she was licking herself in the mirror. Just like I like to read my own words over and over before turning them in to the editor.

On Saturdays, I get to catch her flinging her toys in the air, and catch. I get to cook her meals and watch her relish it. I also get to see Mamu and Aki talk to each other in a weird lingo. And how she pushes herself next to Mamu, just to remain close to her.

Best part of a Saturday is when I get to look up between work and rest my eyes on her baby face- a respite from the computer screen, or look up from my book to a moment completely stolen by her innocence.

To be able to love unconditionally like she does, without hoping that I'll love her back and yet love me without shame and guilt before the world for the way she feels. I want to learn to love like that. Selflessly. Without reason.

When Aki leaves

I can never quite explain what it is that Aki always tries so hard to tell me when she looks at my face. It's like she looks deep into my eyes- almost touching my soul. When I sent her off to Chitwan, I felt she was asking me why she was being sent away. She almost jumped off the car as they drove away. She did the same today, wanting to jump off the car, still clenching my tee with her fangs. She actually tore it and dashed my glasses to the floor, smashing it. Again the same look in her eyes. Can't believe she's grown into this girl who can knock me down, from the little one who used to sleep on my chest. But the same baby eyes! They will always make me the mother I can never become.