WALK THROUGH LIFE: A DOG’S MEMOIR

My entry for the ELLE FICTION AWARDS 2011, fingers crossed  :p

There isn’t much to do when you are at the close of your fourteen year existence. There are obviously very less expectations from you and you get a lot of time to reflect back at a life well lived. Self reflection is a routine, you start from the day you are born till the seconds you last breathed, like a small preview of a film called ‘life’. Today is no different.

I gaze at him curiously. He was sitting at the table, unusually relaxed, eating and what after many months, finally making peace with his lunch. For a second he looks at me and returns the gaze indifferently. It is that time of the year, I guess, sensing his calmness.

The earliest memory I have of me is being picked up by warm fingers. A heart beats rhythmically as these fingers stroke me gently. When I look up, I see shining irises, and that is my mother. Despite loud protests by her parents and him, she held on to me. She gave me a very funny name, she called me ‘Sinatra’.

I was two and healthy. Large for my age .My bark was deep and heavy, if dogs had a voice, mine would certainly be compared to my namesake’s baritone. I was powerful and fierce, I was a watchdog .She walked me proudly, and I tried to match her gait, we were like royalty. She did not hesitate in taking me deeper in the woods.

 These woods were a sanctuary for me. Here I was released from my leash, I was free. There was soft earth for my for my paws, noises and smells convincing me that this should have been the home for all that exists. She respects my solitude and lets me be free. This was the same place where she found me, I will forever be grateful to this piece of land.

That day our peace was crowded by an uncanny presence. The day lingers on to my memory and refuses to be forgotten. I look in her direction, but clearly she is unaware. I let out a low bark. As footsteps approach, so do voices I look at her again and now she’s standing straight and alert. There are three men, each a grubby mess, they didn’t look well brought up and their crass loud words made it certain they weren’t parallel in their social standing as my mother. One of them realizes alien company. He whispers into the other ones ear. Soon they change courses and proceed in our direction. There is hooting and, loud singing. Their eyes and intentions indicate they are drunk .She motions me to move, and we are fast on our way out. Her eyes are easy to decipher, and right now I see panic, however she fakes a brave calm and walks at an easy pace. They are right behind us, and now they are infuriating me. She is disturbed and I don’t like how her panic grows in me too.

I had enough! I run in the opposite direction to bite the one closest to me. The joy on his face disappeared in seconds; his face crunched as he felt my teeth puncturing his skin. His pain thrilled me. Even as the other two tried to wrestle me off, I felt overjoyed. He deserved it!

I wish I had a voice, I wish my eyes were easily explicable to her, as hers were to me. She would have run, if she could get the message. Instead she joined the wild scramble, trying to save me. The biggest of them all pinned her down. I was yelping at this point, fighting my own fight at the same time watching her loose her’s .Helpless I just retired. The last time I saw her, I looked into her eyes, tears clouded the iris, but horror spoke through unmistakably. My mother was in pain.

They had completely crushed me. Because I could not protect her anymore, I let myself fall into a deep dark well.

When I woke up, a torturous pain aroused in my left hind leg, instructing me not to move anymore. I barked feebly, I wanted herto comfort me. I knew I wouldn’t see her, she must be in her own pain somewhere else.but I barket still and moaned, I  wanted the comfort of her presence. Instead he arrived.his eyes were a nasty red surrounded by bags as if sleep evaded him for many days.Like his sister’s,his eyes spoke distinctly.Right now they spoke of a momentous tragedy.The walls around us started moaning and singing a melancholy song,  his voice feebly found its way through his throat and slowly said ‘Sinatra’. Just the way his sister did. I was to understand this single expression and arrive at my conclusion.She was no more.we were now heavy in our grief.

A dog may recover swiftly, physically and emotionally. We are parasitic to the person who loves us, we aren’t called ‘a man’s best friend’ for no reason. If love finds us in another way, we simply set out in that direction. A human, on the contrary holds onto the reigns of the past, he feels his identity is secure in doing so.I didn’t wait for her to reappear anymore,the sun would burn at the same intensity,the trees would grow undeterred, who was I to question the monotony?

I was still looked after well, my new friend was a small neighborhood child.but he had aged a hundred years, the mischievous boy never again  found a way into his personality. His voice, cracked with puberty, expressed remorse more openly. Grief had turned a boy into a man.

Each year,the same day,he took me to the clearing,a place where I waited to find guilt.A guilt of not being able to protect her, instead I find her manifest herself all around my sanctuary. This place knows her well, therefore it embraces me just like it embraced  her.He has learnt this aswell so he stands to breathe the air around him.He misses her deeply.

On some windy day you can hear the wind rustle through the leaves in the clearing. I think it sounds like her last shrieks, filled up with agony and a futile cry to save her.  I abhor the sound. However to him, I knew these songs meant something else for he stood up to listen to them. He closed his eyes and sobbed. She hadn’t left him; she only justified the reason for her absence. Today again he will ask me to accompany him. I will endure her shrieks and try to listen to her song for him. Maybe she will speak to me as well. I am not that strong anymore, but I hope I keep coming back again, he needs me to console him still.

The boy will grow old, age and die, he will find new ways to live, conquer different worlds, he will be someday be a father himself, very soon he may have to replace me too. He needn’t worry that she was snatched away from him, for whenever he misses her; he will find her singing through the leaves at the same clearing that was once my sanctuary, sitting next to her will be me, free.

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THANKS FOR READING!