Four Legged Followers

As I walked into the corridor at 7 o’clock in the evening to go to my lab, I noticed a dog following me. In fact, it was following me from the front. This is an art the dogs of IIT Bombay seem to have mastered, having been persistent practitioners possibly for decades now. They walk in front of you. Wagging their tail, tongue hanging, a perfect picture of beatitude, doing exactly what they love. On every fork on the road, they wait for you to show the way and then continue - following from the front.

Some of my friends say animals have an unusual affinity towards me. Last evening I was sitting in Hiranandani with a friend of mine, having a sandwich, when a white street dog approached. That was quite normal. Dogs do come when they see people eating in the hope of being treated with some leftovers. But then a brown dog too came over. Okay, probably they were friends, or had a deal to share every meal, or seeing two not-so-thin people eating they thought that food was available in excess. When a third dog, a black one, came I stood up feeling rather uncomfortable. “But you should be used to such things by now!” said my friend. That is when I realized how I had come to be associated with animals. It seemed to have become a defining trait of my personality.

I must say, my friends aren’t really all that unreasonable. What they say does make sense to a certain extent. A monkey did come running after me and caught hold of my leg while I was walking down the corridor one day. I shrieked in fright and tried to run. The only thing the security guard could do was smile with an amused expression on his face. The monkey relented soon, but I was quite shaken by the experience. Since then, I try keeping a safe distance from those cunning trouble-makers. My adventures with animals are not a recent occurring though. Having stayed in this nature-friendly campus for almost all my life, I have had various amusing experiences with the four legged. My friends and I were once attacked by a herd of cows while going to the weekly classical-music lessons. But that happened a long time ago. I was a little kid then. I do have very graphic memories of the incident, but I’m afraid most of them must be fabrications of my imaginative mind. I barely give credit to the idea of young children being able to fend off an attack as brutal as the one I seem to recall and get away unscathed. A relatively more recent occurrence would be the encounter with a pack of dogs. I do have more distinct memories of that incident, and by the nature of their not being too fantastic, I think they might be genuine. I was going to school. My father had miraculously agreed to take me in his car that day. When I kept my bag on the back seat, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten my water-bottle upstairs. I was already getting late, so I ran towards the stairs. A small pack of dogs had chosen the parking area of our building as their shelter for the previous night. Only half of them seemed to be awake. As some of them saw me running, even though in a totally different direction, they got rather excited. I still remember it vividly. Five dogs ran after me, barking like maniacs, their teeth bare and mouths frothing. Of course, I freaked out. But common-sense prevailed soon. I was a bright kid you know. Somehow I gathered enough courage to stop while being chased by those brutes and turning towards them I screamed “Get lost you stupid dogs!” And that was it. My dog-adventure was over. I think it must’ve been surprise, or rather shock. Those dogs might not really have expected a young girl to turn back and yell at them. Whatever the exact feelings my actions might have triggered in them, they promptly put their tails down, stopped jumping at me and went back to the parking lot to resume their repast.

Though my childhood was adventurous, the most memorable incident is the one with the dog near the tea-stall in Hiranandani. I was in a habit of going there with my boyfriend for a post-dinner tea session. I think that is what got me addicted to tea. I get really restless in the absence of this beverage these days. Anyway, the point being, there are lots of street dogs around that area. Usually they are harmless. Accepting biscuits form dog-loving tea consumers keeps them content in general. But then again, generally I am not around. I was standing with my back-side resting on my boyfriend’s bike, a cup of tea in my hand, sharing a packet of biscuits with him. As it so happened, one of the street dogs in the vicinity did not seem to like the idea of letting things run in so smooth a manner. It started walking to and fro in front of us. That was conspicuous enough, but maybe the dog really wanted its presence to be felt and did not want to take any chance lest it not be noticed. So, with an elegant move it jumped as if to pounce at me and then stood on its hind legs, its front paws resting on my belly. Now that was quite an experience. A street dog staring into your face with its front paws resting on you, all uninvited. My scream would’ve probably woken up half of Powai. The people around me soon came to my rescue, shooing the animal away. After some time, on having duly recovered from the overwhelming situation, we returned to the campus. I am so used to it by now that on an average day I probably wouldn’t even have noticed it, but the events of the evening did not let me ignore our friendly neighborhood dogs following us from the front.

Heathcliff

I can never forget Heathcliff. He had a lasting impression on me. How could a person be like that? This creation of Emiy Bronte put my innocent little mind in distress. He was the villain of Wuthering Heights, but I couldn't exactly hate him. The blend of pity, fear, loathing, anger, awe, sympathy, curiosity, wonder left me confused. Heathcliff made me feel uneasy. Sometimes he still does.
The story started with his being tormented and exploited. Then came the cruel revenge. Even the horrors of his past - the deprivation, the humiliation, the betrayal he had suffered - could not justify the treachery and heartlessness of his vengence.
He couldn't really have been devoid of a heart. He loved Catherine deeply. But it seemed that he had a heart only for her. Her loss drove him to insanity. Torturing his wife, tormenting his enfeebled and dieing son, imprisoning Catherine's daughter, annihilating all those who seemed to be responsible for distancing him from his love, even destroying the lives of their children.
Probably if I had read the book later on in life, it wouldn't have had such an effect on me. But as it so happened, I was an innocent young child then, unaware of the terrible shades human nature could acquire.
Heathcliff is a name that is etched in my memory forever.

Mister Pink-Whistle's Party

I don't even remember what the book was all about. A fat, rosy-cheeked Mister Pink-Whistle smiling benevolently out of the cover of a timeworn book with yellow pages is all that comes to my mind. Well, there were balloons in the background. Probably red, blue and yellow. and it was one of the first few books that my younger sister ever read as a child.
My parents had a tough time getting me to read novels. I would always give-up on them after the first few pages. Also, the first books that they tried to make me read were not the easiest ones to grasp as a child. Enid Blyton was Vineeta Auntie's idea. Her daughter was my age and had a whole cupboard full of Famous Fives, Malory Towers and Saint Clares.
The first book that I ever managed to read, however, was 'The Adventurous Four'. My mother and I read it together. It was fun competing with her to read it and then discussing the story. It was a hard-bound book with a blue cover and had a boat painted in the front. The same boat that led the four friends to a remarkable adventure.
Thus began my adventures in the world of Enid Blyton. Famous Five, The Five Findouters, The Twins at Saint Clares, The Naughtiest Girl in School were all my childhood friends. How the piggy 'runned away' in Billycock Hill still makes me smile. And Mister Pink Whistle's Party sure was a success.