Of this, that & all in sundry

The platform is as crowded as ever – teeming with passengers, some sitting on the floor waiting for a delayed train while others meandering between them and their bags, porters pacing up and down the platform with baggage double their size and stalls of tea, magazines, snacks & cheap romantic novels. She can hear the announcement but the words are too muffled for her to decipher. She knows she is getting late, and this myriad of obstructions on her way across the platform make it not an easy path to navigate. Wasn’t she supposed to be with her husband and her kids? No sooner does this thought cross her mind, she sees them ahead of her. Oh good, the boys are with their father and closer to the boggie. She stumbles over someone’s bag, without a glance at it, she sets right her foot and walks ahead. She is falling behind her family who have almost reached the train compartment. She must hurry as she notices that the compartment is much further away than she had realized. “The whistle, oh my god, I must rush.” She tries to pick pace but her foot gets stuck again. Not sure what it is, she wriggles her foot out resulting in the strap of her sandal coming off. As she quickly takes her sandals in her hands and looks up, the train has already started moving. Panic grips her, as she notices that the kids and their father are already on the train and have not even noticed that she is left behind. She tries to call out to them but her voice fails her. The platform looks a little less crowded now and she runs randomly between the ambling strangers trying to catch pace with the train. They look back at her running towards the train with a blank emotionless gaze.

*** 

She lay in her bed for a while, much refreshed from her sleep but feeling exhausted still. Turning to her side she reflects on the dream that had been recurring these past two weeks – always this common theme - missing the train, or bus, getting left behind.

She takes a deep breath, glad for the good rest, ahead of what was going to be not a very comfortable night for sleep/ She checks out the time on her bedside clock, “4 PM, we have another 6 hours to go” and gets up.

She walks into the living room or so it once was, now just an empty space. Everything in that room that belonged to them, represented them now packed in 24 neat boxes piled in the corner of the room. The room had been bare when they moved in, and three years later it was back to being the same – the emptiness around and within disturbs her so to distract herself she inspects if the boxes are well packed. One of them seems badly taped so she peels it off and looks inside. The brass rhino from Tinsukia stares back at her – it was a farewell gift to them when they got transferred from there. She takes it out to properly wrap it in newspaper and places it back on the side next to the Russian nestling dolls. To avoid the rhino’s horn scraping against the dolls, she tightly places a book between them. The dolls were special too, always a great source of conversation at her parties – “so how many dolls do you think are inside this one?”, she would ask her guests quite proudly.  They had bought it at Kasauli – of all the places she made home, the cottage there was the prettiest. Chanakya’s Arthashastra now went between them and the rhino. She gently presses all the items in the box to ensure they are tightly packed – each of them had held a place of pride on the mantlepiece which now lay bare. She firmly tapes the box and places a sticker on it “Train”.

 ***

“Sad is the home where the kitchen is not warm”, Beeji would always say. True to Beeji’s form, she had ensured that even six hours before departure, when all the of house was emptied into boxes, the kitchen was still functional. Two kadhais (Indian woks), chakla-belan (to roll the Indian flatbreads), a pan, a few plates, spoons, bowls and other odds and ends along with a functional gas stove kept the kitchen going. As she enters its warmth embrace, she is welcomed by the comforting sight of Beeji sitting on a stool, peeling a large pot of boiled potatoes and Malti on her haunches plying at the dough for pooris while listening to Beeji narrate her stories. “When I was young, in my kitchen, there would always be a pot of tea ready for anyone. I was famous in the entire neighbourhood & amongst our acquaintances, they would say, ‘You go to Beeji’s place anytime and you will always get a warm cup of elaichi chai (cardamom tea) and something home-made to go with’. ‘Haye, Beeji, were you called Beeji even when you were young?”, responds Malti engrossed in the conversation but  not taking a break from the kneading. “Haan, since I had my first daughter and she called me Beeji, everyone started doing so. It was not common, in those days, to address an older person by their name.”

Malti catches sight of her at the kitchen entrance.

“Arre, didi, aap uth gaye”.

“Beeji, shall I help? Sorry, I just kept on sleeping, you should have woken me up. I would have helped”

“Its ok bachcha. You looked so tired in the day, good you got some sleep. Why don’t you go freshen up, Satish will be home soon. Malti will make you some tea. We are almost done with this – now just have to fry the pooris and toss these potatoes in the gravy. Poori Alloo ready!”

There was not a sight of anxiety on the face of Beeji, as if it was just a regular day. Her mother’s sturdiness gave her strength and made her feel weak, somehow both at the same time.

“Mummmmmyyyyyyy”, and in rushes a hurricane. He is sweaty, panting & red faced back home from an afternoon of playing with his friends, “I said Bye to all my friends and told them we are leaving tonight. Shikha toh started crying Mama.”

“I hope you consoled her” she says

“Hmmm”, clearly no such act of chivalry had followed.

“Achca go take a bath, you are stinking. Where is your bhaiya? Both of you need to freshen up before Papa is back. No last minute rush”, she says leaving the kitchen and ushering her younger son to his room while herself retiring for a bath.

***

The shower made her feel better. As she sat in front of the dressing table mirror, of all the things that were changing yet feeling stagnant, one that she was glad of being so, was her reflection in the mirror.   On the dressing table lay an assortment of items - lipsticks, bindis, nail polish, some bangles and chains and a photo frame with two photos – one from her wedding and another one from their honeymoon. Satish was posted at Deolali back then, he had taken leave to fly down to Delhi for their wedding. He was a young, newly appointed officer, enjoying his new found freedom – both economic and social, leading a carefree lifestyle and getting posted to a new town every six months during his apprenticeship. She, in contrast, all of 21 of which sparing the toddler years, had never stepped outside Delhi. To her, moving to Deolali itself sufficed as a honeymoon but Satish took her of Goa. She looked at the two pictures and remembered how thrilled she was at the prospect of visiting new towns and meeting new people – with each visit, her life felt like it was finally filling up. During his posting at Tinsukia, he was assigned a vehicle and a driver and in those two years the couple covered five of the seven remote north eastern states of the country. The necklace studded with semi precious stones from a store in Meghalya, a hair ornament from Aizwal & the jewellery box itself from a visit to the Madan Kamadev temple in Assam, memoirs from three of those states lay at her dressing table. She picked up the photo frame, and pulled aside her wedding photo, behind which lay another picture of her, in black and white, full frame, standing against a plain backdrop wearing a long black robe, smiling at the camera with a hint of shyness, nervously displaying her degree. She had graduated first class honours in English and second to her day of engagement, this was the day she brought greatest pride to her family. A close third was landing a government job that she pursued for a year before she got married and relocated.

*** 

The evening sun cast long shadows on the barren floor of the living room. The movers bustled around, carrying the boxes into the lorry while their supervisor stood on a side hurling abusea when a box scraped against a wall or the floor. “No, no not that box. Leave it. Anything marked “Train” goes with us”, she cried.

It took four men, fifteen minutes to pack all the boxes into the lorry. As she walked out to the porch watching the lorry being pulled out of the narrow driveway, Bharat walked in from the gate. His eyes were red and swollen & face shadowed in sorrow; goodbyes can be especially hard when it is to your first ever set of close friends. He sees his mother on the porch and an unspoken understanding of seemingly wasted emotional investment manifests in a hug. She caresses her son’s head as he grips her by the waist his head leaning on her chest. The younger one comes out on the porch and overwhelmed by the sight, hugs his mother tightly too. She fills her arms with both her sons and the trio look at the lorry which has finally managed its way out of the driveway leaving them behind in the fading light of the twilight.

***

Satish arrives to the welcome of a strong fragrance of deep fried pooris and asafoetida which now engulfed the vacancy of the living room. He walks into the kitchen buzzing with activity - Malti making dough balls and flattening them at a frantic pace, Beeji calmly frying them and her youngest grandson neatly packing them in newspapers as they cool down.

“Papa. We are almost ready. Bhaiya, I & Mummy are ready. Beeji will be ready as soon as these pooris are done. And once you have taken a bath, we will be ready to go”. Papa smiles and pats his head before leaving the kitchen, his son follows him.

“Papa, the packers came and packed all the bags. Everything is gone, except these three suitcases, one box and this smaller night case. Mummy and bhaiya are feeling sad to go but I am ok. Will we be in time to catch the train? Is is a super fast?.....”

Satish enters his bedroom leaving his son outside chattering away to himself. He looks at his wife packing items from her dressing table into a small pouch.
“Sad?”
“Hmmm…a little. You know, we had such a good time here.”
He hugs her, “And we’ll have an even better one there. Bigger house, more social activity – perks of the promotion. You will head the Wives’ Welfare Association there”
She nods and gets back to packing the items on her dressing table.
He removes his tie and looks at the fresh pair of clothes she has set out for him to wear for the journey.
Satish goes to take a shower and she walks out into the living room.

“Beta, l will quickly take a bath. Food is all packed in this bag.” Beeji says to her and then turns to Malti, “Beti, you have been so nice. Take care of yourself and your daughters – make sure you tell them the stories of Dharamraj – it will be a source of inspiration when they grow up. Here keep this little something for you”, she thrusts a hundred rupee note in her hands, “And once you have washed those utensils, take them home with you. They’ll be useful for you”. Malti touches Beeji’s feet, and walks up to her mistress and folds hands in gratitude.

“Come on boys. Quickly decide who is picking which bag? The taxi is here”
“Ill carry the food bag”
“Ok, but along with that carry that small bag too. No, not the box. Let Bhaiya carry the big box. Papa will carry those two suitcases and I will carry this one. Beeji can carry her purse. Lets count how many bags are these. 1, 2, 3….8 pieces of luggage including beeji and my handbag. Everyone will put the bags they are responsible for in the car. And then remember to carry it along while boarding the train.” Her little son rushes over towards the bags making a sounds like a train engine.

The bags are carried out one by one into the taxi. Satish comes out and takes the suitcases along with him. Once all the bags are in the car, Satish gets in with one of the boys in the front. Beeji makes way with the elder one behind. Just about to get into the car, she turns back to look at the house one last time – “let me quickly check that all the taps are shut and lights turned off. Ok?”

She walks back into the house switching on the living room light. Quickly checks the bathroom and kitchen taps and walks back into the living room – she pauses for a minute allowing for all the happier memories of that place fill her – parties, get togethers and chats she had hosted here. Mrs Mehra’s comment “Your wife is the best host ever Satish”, her husband nodding in agreement, “The Diwali party that you hosted here last year was the best Diwali we had in years.” A deep breath, she turns off the light, immediately reversing the play of light and shadow in the room now lit from the dull light from the street lamp outside – irony of life metaphorically manifesting in the room.

***

The car pulls into the station finally – the jam right outside the gate had costed them 15 minutes fully. Everyone was now anxious at the prospect of missing the train – even Beeji.

“Come on. Quickly pick up your respective bags and start walking. The train will be on Platform 1 so not too far. One of you stay with Beeji”

The boys and Beeji set off towards the platform. Satish pays the taxi driver, looks at his wife and gives her a quick hug before picking up the two suitcases and making his way too. She picks up the leftover suitcase, steadies her purse and is immediately reminded of her nightmare. She quickly picks pace and tries to covers the distance between her and her husband.

The platform is in veritable chaos  - the family struggles its way past the people, the stalls, the bags in an attempt to catch their train. A whistle goes off, promptly doubling their pace
“Which boggie?”
“We are in AC 3 tier. Bhai sahib, AC 3 kahan hai?” (Where is AC 3 tier?)
The man points towards the engine – and Satish says “Damn” in desperation “Hurry guys its right at the front of the train”.
How is it that we are always running to catch a train last minute?With a suitcase in her hand, and bag in another she struggles to hold up her sari and run.
The second whistle and release of steam from the engine – the guard is peering out, preparing to wave his flag as an indicator of the train’s movement.
She catches a glimpse of Satish, he is helping Beeji get on the train, followed by his younger son.
The indicator on the track turns from Red to Green and the lever lowers. The guard draws out his whistle. In all the deafening din of the platform, the guard’s whistle pierces loud and clear – like a sword cutting through cloth.
Almost in sync, the train jerks as the wheels are set in motion.
She is just one compartment behind, her husband with his hands out stretched.
She lifts up the suitcase, and he catches it.
“Ill take that from you, you help your wife come up”, says a man to Satish.
Satish is grateful for his help and lends his wife a hand up.
As she turns behind she sees her elder son running close behind with the big box. Satish jumps off the train, takes the box from his son, thrusts him forward. The man at the gate helps the boy up in the compartment and then takes the box from Satish allowing him to jump in too.
“Thank you for helping my family. I am Satish”
“Glad to be of help. Moksha.”  

They are all on the train, just in time as the train leaves the platform. She guides them to their seats, settles Beeji and her kids before taking the seat by the window just in time to catch a brief glimpse of the city before the train pulls into the fields.

No Two Stars Twinkle Alike

They always get it wrong, said Nonu to himself as he peered out of the window into the twilight sky. The morning papers had indicated the sunset time that evening to be at 7:15, but the sky was still in shades of blue way past quarter to eight. Every Saturday night, Nonu would religiously check the exact time the sky would turn black, record the same in his little notebook, and then run to the kitchen to inform his mother that the newspapers had got it wrong…again. After the first couple of weeks his mother did not bother correcting the inherent fallacy in Nonu’s logic. She nodded at him and asked him to inform his brother to get ready for dinner. She was well paced in preparing rotis for dinner, and she had to keep this rhythm going if she had to finish in time to catch the 9 PM show. The TV was blaring loud enough for the sound to reach the kitchen so she could hear the news bulletin end. She would then have exactly five minutes, while the commercials played, to open the pressure cooker, quickly temper the daal and rush into the bedroom to catch the opening titles of the evening show.

It was a typical small town society apartment, perched on the first floor of a four apartment block, similar to twenty such other blocks all set around a large muddy ground for kids to play in and elders to take their evening walks around. This time of the evening was always busy inside the apartments with food getting prepared in the kitchen, the TV turned on for the evening programmes and kids high on adrenalin back from their playtime outdoors. This Saturday however the buzz in the house was pitched at a scale higher - besides the TV, there was also the stray sounds of guitar which  Bharat was tuning and their father singing in the shower. Papa was back home after 3 months from his off shore assignment and the boys were excited about their first Saturday evening with him – Bharat was keen to show off his skill on the instrument and Nonu looked forward to a yummy dinner – paneer bhurji, methi paratha and kulfi – all of Papa’s (and his and Bharat’s) favourite dishes and music & games post that.

 

Nonu ran into the room and jumped on the bed next to his brother. Bharat did not acknowledge Nonu’s presence – typical elder brother who only deigned to notice his pesky little brother when it felt convenient & necessary. Younger siblings were fun to have, they would look up to you, be a comforting endearing presence around but must be granted attention only in moderation. Undeterred by his brother’s ignorance of him, he glanced around the room where Papa’s suitcase lay open. Right on top lay a new vinyl, Nonu gazed at the cover which had a large-scale picture of bushy haired men and women and written across the cover was BONNEY M. Nonu had never heard of a person with such an unusual name. Maybe it’s the name of the song, but he would only know for sure when they would play it on the gramophone later. The thought of game night made Nonu hug himself in delight, he loved Saturday evenings – half day at school, no home work for the evening and the following day being Sunday he was allowed to stay up well beyond his usual bed time. The evening held all the promise of fun and joy.

 

“The tap has run out of water and I am still all soaped up,” that was Papa in a longer than usual bath attempting to scrub off what he believed would be 90 days worth of oily stink on his self.

“Bharat go check out if there is water in the tank”, and that was Mummy from the kitchen.

“Chal, Nonu. Lets go up on the roof and check”.

“Don’t take Nonu, he will fall..”

“La la lalallalalaa….cant hear you” cried Nonu, his palms firmly pressing against his ears so hard that they went red as he ran out on to the porch to climb up the iron ladder resting next to the wall. Bharat chuckled at his monkey-ish younger sibling and held the ladder tight to secure his brother as he ascended on it before climbing up himself.

 

Bharat climbed atop the Sintex and with the aid of a long branch tested the water level inside, Nonu stood by the side of the tank checking out the town from this vantage point – a town that, in contrast to the house inside, stood silent and dark. Their own street had but one functioning street lamp that too so weak in current that it threw light only enough to make itself visible. An eclipse of moths swarmed around its weak light buzzing away erratically. Nonu stared at the solitary bastion of light on the street and wondered if that went off, where would all the moths fly off to? The sight on the other side was pleasanter – blocks of houses, square and boxy, humble & functional in their shape and form and through each window he could catch a glimpse of the life inside it. The kitchen light burnt bright and if you strained hard you could hear an occasional whistle of a pressure cooker releasing steam, the TV room (either bedroom or living room, wherever the TV was placed) lit in white warm hues playing the one channel that was accessible to all, and even though not audible to Nonu at a distance, the collective sound from all of them created a low hum in the air. Each window an insight into another family, another life, identical to the one next to it and the one thereafter. The sameness of the existence of the entire community was not something that would interest or baffle 9-year old Nonu especially in a world and a time when that was the only way of living most of them knew.

“Bharat, jaldi”, cried Nonu. The mosquitoes had discovered his bare legs, and he didn’t want to wait to find out when moths would do so too.

“Wait”, responded his brother as he looked at the branch which had come out reasonably wet, indicating enough water in the tank. He climbed a little higher and steadied himself almost on top of the tank now to push the branch lower in to remove whatever was blocking the outlet.

 “Chalo. Chalo. Challlooooo”.

Whack!! The branch hit Nonu’s head and startled him. He glared back at Bharat, who grinned back mockingly, “Sorry. I was only throwing the branch away, it hit you by accident”. Nonu was sure, it was no accident. He rubbed his head, a mutinous look all over his face – he had been attacked and retaliation was the only retort. He mentally scanned his battlefield - the enemy was perched on top of the tank and would take at least a few seconds to get off it, giving him a head start to sprint across the roof towards the ladder. He would just have to be careful as he climbed down, but after the first four steps, the ground won’t be too far to make a jump and sprint across towards his mother in the kitchen. At this clear evaluation, he raised his right palm and landed a tight slap on Bharat’s buttocks and darted towards the ladder. Bharat growled at the thought of being slapped by a kid and jumped off the tank sooner than Nonu had anticipated. He chased the boy down like a wolf. Barely had Nonu climbed down the ladder and gotten half way across the porch, that Bharat caught up with him. He took Nonu in his grip and landed three tight slaps on his buttocks. Nonu tried to wriggle away as he screamed “Mummy, look he is hitting me”. Bharat let go off the red faced little puppy who sped off to the kitchen.

 

As Bharat entered the kitchen he could hear Nonu narrate a jumbled up story Mummy was least interested in. She had nine years’ experience of raising two boys and knew that over time both boys will be at fault equal number of times and regardless of who was at fault once in a while a hiding to either of the two restored a reasonable balance.

“Ok. Take the plates to the bedroom. I’ll bring the food along. Buniyaad is going to start.”

Nonu carefully carried the plates to the TV room, neatly placed them on the bed, laid some newspapers on the side table for food to be set on, and placed one spoon on each of the four plates.

The news concluded and the sound of the TV commercials served as beguile for the entire family to conclude whatever activity they were indulging in and gather into the TV room. Buniyaad was about to begin. Nonu took a vantage seat at the edge of the bed, it was a straight angle to TV from there, Mummy and Papa sat on the two chairs and Bharat at the other end of the bed.

“Give me more paneer”

“Pass me the ladle someone”

“Watch where, your feet are going, you are going to spill the daal”….

“Shhh! Shhhh! Programme has started. Quiet. QUIET!”

***

Nonu felt heartbroken – the gramophone and the board game plan had fallen by the side with the power outage. He was almost prepared to cry and Bharat felt sorry to see his little brother like that.

Mummy came into the living room with candles and some matches, Papa was relaxing in his armchair too full from the heavy dinner and that extra portion of Kulfi. A sturdy man physically hardened from years of hard work, mentally resilient from staying away from his family and dealing with crisis of all sorts as the Head Engineer of the plant, he felt calm and centred when he got back for these short breaks. The sight of his family served as a reminder of his life’s purpose and the objective of the sweat and toil he put at work. Mummy was a typical mother - strict but fair, always knew what was right, managed the household like a General and never missed an opportunity to land a life lesson to her sons. Bharat was the typical older sibling – responsible, kind and loving but embarrassed to express any emotion, he overcompensated by picking irritating little fights with his brother. During Papa’s absence at home, he became a support to his mother – especially when it came to running errands and taking care of his younger brother. Just three years older to Nonu, but he looked and felt more mature. And then there was Nonu – the stereotypical younger sibling, naughty, curious and cute. A mind with incessant stream of questions, often caught in mischief not with an intent but causing it nevertheless.

Bharat and Papa created an alternate plan for the evening. “Lets do some star gazing tonight. With lights out, we would have an unobstructed view of the sky”, said Bharat his eyes wide and gleaming in an attempt to excite his younger brother. To Nonu, it felt like a poor substitute.

Mummy pulled out old mattresses, foldable charpoys, bedsheets and spare pillows from the attic and the boys and Papa carried them up to the roof. Nonu dragged his feet along, with a long face and droopy shoulders. He was not happy, and he didn’t want anyone to make a mistake in knowing it. Bharat collected the anti mosquito coils, candles and the matches to carry along.

“You boys go along, I will finish some work in the kitchen and join you in a while”, said Mummy.

 

Up on the roof, the two charpoys were laid next to each other, the mattresses were given a proper dressing down making dust and a strong musky odour fly out of it. On the charpoy went the mattresses and then a clean bedsheet. On the side of the bed, a candle was lit and next to it the mosquito coil. Papa, Bharat and Nonu lay down on their backs.

“Wow! Look at all those stars”.

“What stars? I can hardly see anything”

“Give it a minute Noni. Let your eyes adjust to the darkness” Papa’s voice sounded even more calm and earthy under the dark night sky.

Nonu decided to give it a few moments before protesting again, but before he could do that, the sky looked like it was filling up. As he noticed more carefully, more stars blinked into existence. All he had to do, was give it a few moments.

“Ok the first boy to spot the constellation Big Dipper, will get my green and gold fountain pen”

“I know, there it is” cried Bharat hurriedly pointing at the most visible and remarkable constellation in the sky.

“Which one?” asked Nonu, “how do you know?”

“Arre budhu, the seven stars….its called the Big Dipper”

Nonu looked offended at being called budhu

“I am not budhu, you are. This is unfair. If papa had said spot the seven stars, even I would have done it. I didn’t know it was called the Big Dicker.” And got the name wrong, Bharat and Papa chuckled.

“Its ok Nonu. Its called Big DIPPER”.

“Our teacher calls it the question mark.” Papa looked at Nonu with a comical look.

“What?!?” laughed Bharat, “You are being such a duffer. Don’t say that in public people will laugh at you. Question mark, indeed. Hahahaha”. Nonu went red faced embarrassed.

“Which teacher calls it Question mark?” enquired Papa

“The Hindi teacher” Nonu’s response was welcome with an even louder guffaw from Papa and Bharat.

“Stupid! What does your science teacher call it?”

“Nothing. She doesn’t talk about it. She talks about the solar system and the planets in it” Nonu was keen to change the subject to something he knew.

“Ok. Back to the stars, boys. Nonu, do you see the Big Dipper?”

“Your question mark, Nonu” giggled Bharat

“Enough Bharat”, said Papa in his calm but firm voice. It worked, Bharat got serious. Nonu relieved.

“Now focus on the first two stars at the head of it, and follow your gaze in the direction they are pointing at further up in the sky. Do you see that star?”

Both Nonu and Bharat’s gaze followed their father’s finger and paused at a point up in the sky to a star which was indeed shining rather brightly.

“That, boys, is the Pole Star or Polaris.”

“And do you know why its called so?” Both boys, their eyes still stuck at the star they were newly introduced to, shook their heads mesmerized.

“This star is always stationed right at the top of the North pole. Back in the day when voyagers got lost in the sea or in a desert, they would use this star to guide them.”

“How Papa?”

“Well if they kept following the direction of the star, they knew they were headed north”

Nonu was amazed, at the idea that someone would navigate his way on Earth using the stars as a map.

“Where is the solar system Papa?”

“We are in it buddhu. It is all around us”, sneered Bharat

“Huh? In it? What does that mean?”

“We are a part of the solar system, stupid. Do you know anything at all?”

Nonu was upset, he wanted to bring the topic to something he knew. To not be called budhu again, decided belligerence was the way to go

“You know nothing about the solar system. You are wrong”, he blurted

“No I am not”

“Yes you are”

“No I am not”

“Yes you are”

Bharat knew only one way to end it, he kicked at Nonu. And Nonu kicked back.

“Stop” firm and calm again. Both boys stopped.

“Yes we are in the solar system but all the other planets are around us and some of them you can even see. But right now we cant spot them in the sky”

“The planets are very big, hai na Papa! My teacher told us that Jupiter, Saturn and Neptune are actually much bigger than Earth.”Nonu suddenly felt better, at having named three planets and asked an intelligent question

“Yes those planets are bigger than Earth but in comparison to these stars, they are much much smaller. In fact each of these stars are like our sun.”

“Kuch bhi”, responded Nonu, in disbelief.

“Arre”

“If they are like the sun, then how come with so many of them, the night sky is not hotter than the day?”

“Sigh.” Papa was exhausted and he knew well that this line of questioning could go on forever.

“Ok, I will respond to this one question and then we will be done with this topic. Deal?”

Nonu considered the option and decided to bargain for a little more, that’s what Mom did when she bargained with the vegetable vendor. An offer had to be met with a counter offer.

“Ok. This question and one more question after that. So two questions?”

“This was not a negotiation beta. The deal is off the table” responded Papa “So no answer at all.”

Nonu was baffled, Mom’s bargains never ended up like this – looks like he wasn’t good at bargaining.

“Ok now tell me what do you see up there?”

Both Bharat and Nonu strained their necks to look at the point their Papa was pointing at.

Both of them spotted a dusty misty. What was that?

Bharat knew the answer but decided it would be more fun to let Nonu take the first pass at it.

Nonu considered it carefully – he could see some bright shiny dust and as he looked more carefully, it became brighter and clearer. It did look like a cloud but why did the cloud shine so? And how widely it was scattered across the night sky. Better judgement prevailed on him, he decided to stay quiet waiting for Bharat to venture with an answer.

“Come on boys.”

“Bolo Nonu. What is it?”

“Why don’t you say it? I don’t think you know it”

"I know what it is. I want to see if you know it”

“I know it too. but I don’t want to say it first because you will copy my answer”

“Ok both of us will say it in Papa’s ears and then Papa will tell who was right.”

Nonu had not bargained for this. He had no idea what it was, but at least he knew Papa won’t laugh at his answer. So he agreed.

He whispered in his dad’s ears, “It’s a cloud. But Papa if I am wrong, don’t tell Bharat what I said”.

Papa smiled at both the responses.

“I was right, hai na Papa” said Bharat ecstatic. “What did this duffer say. Tell me tell me”

“No papa don’t tell him. He is making fun of me. You are older, of course you know this stuff.” Nonu was almost prepared to cry. 

“Ok boys relax. We are here to have a good time. Yes Bharat is older and knows a little more, but even his answer is wrong here”. Nonu jumped in joy.

Bharat scowled, “I am not wrong Papa. That is the milky way. Is it not?”

“Well, everything we see in the sky is Milky Way, it is the galaxy we are in. That dusty patch that you see in the sky is the centre of our galaxy”

“Bharat was wrong. Bharat was wrong. Tra la la la…..” went Nonu’s sing song as he jumped off the charpoy and danced ridiculously around the terrace.

Papa smiled but called Nonu back – he climbed on the charpoy and lay between Papa and Bharat.

As the night proceeded, they spotted the Little Dipper, Orion, Canis Major and Leo – the last one looked nothing like a lion to Nonu. Making meaningful patterns of the specks of light in the sky, suddenly seemed to bring the whole night sky alive. The thought that for ages, our ancestors read the sky through these patterns, and the same was being done by them that evening felt deeply calming and somewhat meditative.

Papa went on talking about how the stars move, how far they are and the fact that baffled Nonu beyond imagination was that it took years for light from the stars to reach the Earth, so they were actually seeing the stars from the past. To Nonu that raised more questions than answers but Papa assured him that his questions had boring physics explanations to them which he would only understand when he is older. Nonu bought that explanation, much to Papa’s relief. His curiosity was both, his most endearing & the most exhausting quality.

 

Moments later, Mummy came up on the roof, carefully carrying glasses of milk for Bharat and Nonu.

“What is happening?”

“We are talking about the universe”

"Mummy, do you know some of these stars that we are seeing may not even exist now.”

Mummy smiled at the factoid and made space for herself on the charpoy. It had been over an hour since the power outage. There was no knowing when it would resume or if at all it would resume that night. The family had gotten comfortable on their rooftop. At a distance they could see other families on their roofs as well –  Pritam aunty waved at Mummy and Mummy waved back. The lazy wind carried a very faint distant sound from her roof to theirs, barely comprehensible but that didn’t stop Mummy from responding anyway

“Yes. Yes All well with us. Wondering when the electricity will resume. You all take care too”

Little candle lights on rooftops were all the light one could see for miles. The sky, in contrast, was lit much more gaily.

“What a still night – I wish a little wind would blow. If the light doesn’t resume, we might as well sleep on the roof. Its hot and stuff inside,” said Mummy to Papa. “Hmmm” he responded.

“So Nonu tell me what else have you learnt so far” asked Mummy keen to be a part of the conversation.

Nonu stole a glance at Bharat and saw mischief in his eyes and was sure he would be tripped for this.

Bharat suddenly felt sorry for Nonu and offered “Ok we will both tell you Mummy”

And so between sips of milk, the two brothers narrated the story of the Milky Way and the constellations to their mother. She just lay on her back gazing at the sky, her right hand locked into Papa’s left, their toes rubbing against each other in a way that she felt the kids would not notice.

“So what’s next?”

“Mom do you know any other constellations?”

Mummy gave the question a considered thought and responded

“That is not material beta. Just admire this beautiful universe that God has created for all of us”

This was Mummy’s favourite life lesson to teach – GOD. If life was a school, then Mom would be the teacher of the subject “God” – never missing a chance to land him in any discussion.

“Papa do you see the same stars from your rig as we see here?”, asked Bharat

“Yes beta. The sky is so vast and our planet so small, the view in the sky remains largely the same”

“Do you think people in New Zealand will see the same sky? “

Papa gave that a considered thought, “hmmm may be not.”

“See, you can be a part of something so vast and enormous, designed to overwhelm you, yet you may never realize it.” In the stillness of the night, Papa’s words felt hypnotic.

The boys lay quietly for a while marvelling at the vast expanse of the universe around them. Mummy glanced over to Papa, and her grip got a little firmer. She could sense that this quiet happy moment with his family was making him more reflective and deep.

Something in that moment made Bharat feel a wave of affection towards his family and especially his little brother. Uncharacteristic of him, he reached out and held Nonu’s hand.

"Papa where do you think all this ends?", asked Bharat

"It does not end anywhere beta"

"But it has to end somewhere...it cannot keep going on. That's illogical", demanded Nonu.

“The end of the universe would be so far away that you will never get to it to know where it is. And that which you cannot find, cannot be called logical or illogical”.

Nonu liked this question, it seemed intelligent and for once others besides him did not know the answer as well. He wasn’t ready to let it go so easily.

“So what if I got in a rocket that went really fast, very very fast… at the speed for 1000 kms per second. And keep going on and on and on and on for many years. Then where will it end?”

“It will not end anywhere beta”

“Arre, how can that be.”

“It will end at a great big wall on which will be written ‘THE END’”. That was Mummy, bored of the conversation putting THE END to it.

“Kuch bhi. Yeh kya Mummy logic hua”

“Arre. What Mummy logic. Can you prove me wrong? “

“No. But a wall in the sky is illogical.”

“More illogical than a sky that does not end anywhere?”

“Illogical still”

“That’s what proves there is a God. How else would you explain an unending universe?”

Oh, that was a good one. It was hard to argue to that logic, thought Nonu.

“But Mummy no one has ever seen God”, said Bharat

“Well, I haven’t even seen the Mount Everest, yet I believe it exists”

“But that’s because you have seen pictures of it and other people have seen it”

“Well, I have not seen those people either, and nor have you. As for pictures, there are many more pictures of God in the world than there are of Mt Everest. More importantly, God’s existence doesn’t require more proof, his miracles are evidence enough beta”. Bharat let that information sink in and in his usual form started processing it silently. Nonu, on the other hand, was not prepared to surrender, “My science teacher says only to believe that which can be proven.”

“Its ok. Be a Nastik bachcha” retorted Mummy, “When you will suffer, you will know”

Suddenly Nonu felt worried. He didn’t want to upset God, on an off chance that he existed, that too just before his mid term report card was due. He had to be on the good side of God, more importantly he had to be on the good side of Mom.

So at an attempt to repair the damage, he responded “You may be right Mom. Its all done by God”

Truce attempted!

Bharat guffawed, “Dar gaya. Dar gay. Poor Nonu is scared, worried to upset Mummy and God before mid term report card comes in”

Attempt foiled!

Nonu glared back at his brother, and immediately kicked him. Bharat promptly returned the favour.

Nonu kicked again. Bharat swiftly responded.

Noticing the escalation Mom made a warning “Stop.” and ticked Nonu.

Upset Nonu cried “Why me?”

“Because you started it”

“But last time he started”

“Ya, but I didn’t see that”

Nonu looked hurt and feebly responded “Ya. But you haven’t seen God either.”

“Oho. My little baby”, and Papa gave Nonu a tight hug. In his father’s big arms, Nonu just melted away, warm, relaxed and content. His chest rose with every breath he took, he could hear the rhythmic heart beat, he held his father’s hands, and traced the veins across the arms.

 

“Look up Nonu” called out Papa urgently

As he looked in the direction his father pointed, he saw something shoot across the night sky – a shooting star. “Come on quickly make a wish.” For a moment, everyone shut their eyes and said a little prayer. The stillness descended on the family again. A light cool breeze in the warm night felt like a cosmic caress – they took in a deep breath and exhaled into a deep relaxation. Was it all the conversation about God or the hours of staring at the stars, but suddenly everything felt calmer, somehow more spiritual, a shift of sorts caused by some cosmic force. The universe that they were gazing at, now felt like it was gazing back at them, becoming a part of this conversation and feeding them with thoughts beyond what they could see.

 

“Papa do you think we would ever be able to see these stars up close?”, Bharat broke his silence.

“Of course.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. But I am sure we will. If you know anything about mankind, it is this that there is nothing we will not achieve.”

“As in?”

“God has made this universe for man, so of course everything is here for Man to see & experience”. Mom and Dad were a perfect balance of religion and science – both existed in respect and never in conflict of each other, each equally firm.

“Say, na, Papa. What do you mean by that?”, Bharat insisted, respectfully ignoring his mother’s comment.

“I am sure no one ever thought man could land on moon, until he did. Similarly, someday we will achieve a feat that today looks impossible”

“Weren’t the first people who went into space scared Papa? They could have died!”, enquired Nonu

“Well beta - One thing leads to another. They first learnt to create rockets that could defy gravity. Then they put an animal into space. When they got successful, first man went into space. So a lot of research is done before such missions are undertaken.”

“But these men could have died even. Hai na?”

“Yes of course, and probably on many missions they did.”

“So doesn’t that scare people?”

“Yes I am sure it does. But it also strengthens your resolve to accomplish.”

“Resolve?”

“Yes son. For example at the oil rig that I work at, its not always safe to work. But we do our best, we all stretch ourselves because we know that we play a larger role in generating energy for our country. Eventually, if you are truly passionate about what you do, you will push boundaries to move mankind ahead. That’s what makes us humans different from animals – our indomitable spirit.”

“Yes, God made man in his own image with all his qualities – we have all his strengths in abundance, but still realizing our true potential.”

“Yet the first being to go into space was a dog” said Bharat with a chuckle

“Huh? Why did we put a dog into space? Did we not want to be the first ones there?”, wondered Nonu.

“Because we had to test the technology beta. Also there was no technology to safely bring someone back from space so it couldn’t be a human. Her name was Laika.”

“So Laika is still in space?”

“I am not sure.”

That was beyond comprehension for Nonu – a dog floating around in space.

“But papa today humans go in space and get back. Don’t they,” asked Bharat bringing the conversation back on track.  

“Yes, all the time. They go to the international space station. Think about that. That’s a marvel.”

“And Engineers like you created that. Right?”, asked Bharat, duly impressed

“Yes beta.”

“I want to be a space engineer”, said Bharat

“Aerospace engineer.”

“Yes that.”

“I knew its called that”, Nonu decided to rub it in. His brother gave him a smile and got a little reflective. Nonu felt left out of the conversation but reconsidered volunteering to be a space engineer (he had already forgotten the word for it), it sounded pretty scary. He decided to test Bharat’s resolve, “But Bharat it will be scary. What if they tell you to go into the rocket in the space.”

“Yes, I would love to do that.”

“You wont be scared?”

“Neil Armstrong was not scared. Rakesh Sharma was not scared”. The latter had been Bharat’s hero since he was all over the news to be the first Indian in space, three years ago.

“And yes son, by the time you boys grow up, technology would have advanced so much. These guys had to manage with very little technology, and much greater chances of failure. For you, things would be much more advanced”

"But it will still be daring to go in space. Wont it?” Bharat defended

“Yes of course. There is no glory without courage. It will always take courage to push boundaries, go beyond where no man has ever gone. And when you do that you will not only take a new leap for yourself but for the mankind as a whole.”

“What did Neil Armstrong say when he took his first step on moon?”

“One small step for a man, and a giant leap for mankind.”

Bharat quietly repeated those words in his mind.

“Do you think I will be a good astronaut Dad?”

“One of the best my son,” in a voice laced with a mix of warmth and pride

“How can you say that?”

“‘A few strike out, without map or chart, where never a man has been,

From the beaten paths they draw apart, to see what no man has seen’.

Not everyone who looks at the stars thinks and feels what you are thinking or feeling right now. Your curiosity will be fire behind your passion to push the boundaries, beta”

Bharat could feel himself charging up, Edgar Guest’s poem and his father’s words serving as fuel to a rocket raring to go places.

“But what if everything that has to be achieved will have been achieved by the time we grow up?”

Papa’s gaze was still fixed at some distant sight in the sky, he smiled and responded

“There will always be a new frontier to conquer Bharat. Not just in space, in every aspect of life. Look at us today sitting here in darkness, someone will have to find solutions to create enough energy to ensure 24 hour electricity in every town. Today’s challenges will be addressed tomorrow, but new challenges will emerge the day after. World will always need passionate, curious, well meaning people to take the mankind ahead.”

These words sank into the two boys like a pebble in a lake.

“Will it be very hard?”

“Let me tell you a little story from a book I recently read. During the World War 2, lots of Jews were put into prisons and camps by Hitler. Their conditions were abysmal – with poor hygiene, hard labour and physical  & mental torture. Germany was making great progress in the early part of the War so it looked likely for most of the Jews that they would never get out of these concentration camps. The man who had written the book was in one such camp and he noticed that while many people died, there were many who survived too – and the main difference was that those who believed in some higher purpose, had greater resolve & hope survived the ordeal longer. In any situation, my son, the hardest thing is to keep your spirits high and resolve strong in the face of crisis. During bad times, people will always be quick to point to the frailty of human mind. Its at those moments that you will have to gather strength by looking back at all that you and the people before you have achieved and remind yourself that no matter what the situation, man will prevail…you will prevail. The only thing that has made us survive the greatest ordeals in the past & is bound to do so in the future even – is the human will and spirit. Never let that be broken.”

 

The sound of those words though ephemeral, the essence of them were etched in two very impressionable minds. As the family lay silently floating in the lightness of that moment, Mummy started humming…

“We shall overcome…”

Nonu chimed in from the next verse “we shall overcome”

Papa and Bharat joined “some day……deep in my heart, I do believe. We shall overcome, someday”.

As the singing continued, Nonu stared at the night sky and saw a rather bright star that wasn’t twinkling – maybe it was the International Space Station? Could some astronaut may be looking down upon this town right now? He may be unable to see the terraces in this darkness, but if he would focus long and hard enough, his eyes would adjust to the darkness and he would probably catch a glimpse of the candles lights on the rooftop. And basking in the warm glow of one of those would be his Mummy, Papa, Bharat and him.

The humming continued for a while, eventually turning into a game of antakshari which went on for several minutes until both the brothers fell asleep one by one.

Hush, I & that which went between us those days - Part 1

 

This is the first part of a three part story. The link to second part is given at the end of the story.

 

CHAPTER 1: The Prelude

So, the shocking news spread like current around the entire apartment complex - one of the residents had been tested positive for COVID. Mumbai was in its 6^th day of lockdown, sporadic cases were just about mushrooming and while everyone knew eventually the cases will come closer home, such soonness was something that we weren't prepared for. Only 450 cases in a city of over 200 million and one of the them was now in our complex! The shock was even greater in my building as the gentleman lived here, mere one floor below mine. The knowledge that the disease was largely not fatal to the youth made no dent on the creeping fear that the virus which plagued 140 nations, killing thousands, was now at my doorstep.  I could feel the tell tale signs of the news crawling through my body – a dis-ease in the stomach, tightness of breath and a mild discomfort all across.

The phone started buzzing incessantly with WhatsApp notifications as everyone in the complex messaged on the “Residents Group” – each one requesting everyone to stay calm, stay indoors and not pass any rumours at this sensitive moment. Till a day before, the greatest battle was to keep people from gathering in the garden below for their evening walks, suddenly that was no longer an issue. No more did kids need their daily evening playtime, adults their walks or gym freaks their outdoor workout routine .

Hush could read the worry on my face but probably not the fact that my greatest worry was for him. Since the lockdown, it had been an uphill task for me keep his walks going in the face of immense resistance from other members of the society. After all the Prime Minister had advised “ghar ki lakshmanrekha paar naa karein” (“don’t cross the threshold of your house”). A couple of days ago, we had almost come to blows, when in the middle of a disagreement one of the society members informed the guards to not let people out except to receive their groceries. When the guard tried to stop me from taking Hush down, I was mutinous – eventually I got my way, like always.

This new development was bound to mean tighter regulations on movement – and clearly pets were the bottom of anyone’s priorities. The discussion on the whatsapp group was already live and kicking with people offering all sorts of suggestions on strict containment. Eventually the society chairperson stemmed all creativity, “We have the police and the BMC at the site now. They will set the rules of the quarantine and we shall abide by them. So please refrain from any further conversation on this topic”

I decided to take Hush down for his mid day walk an hour earlier than usual. Situation was evolving so fast, it made sense to act right away - it could mean one extra walk. As I got out of the elevator, the same lobby felt different somehow. The gloom hung in the air and there felt an ominous silence that I immediately wanted to escape. Out in the mild afternoon sun, however, Hush's golden coat shone replacing the gloom with happy joyful brightness - his usual bouncy playful golden retriever nature added to the charm. He scampered around the pavement, his ears bobbing up and down in sync with his jaunty walk, his hair and tail swaying in the pleasant afternoon breeze – a little pee here, a little poop there, a sniff of the plants and a short chase of a squirrel that was quick to climb up a nearby tree. A short walk later, I ferried him back to the lobby where the guard informed me that the lobby doors would be sealed and no one would be allowed out of the building. We were being put under strict quarantine as the entire building was a potential health hazard according to the BMC. It wasn’t wholly unexpected and my query “But what do we do about our dogs?” was met with a clueless expression. I dropped in a message to our society president as I stepped into the elevator – no sooner did I step out on to my floor that her response dinged in, “Sorry Ankush there is nothing we can do. We have been strictly informed that no one can step out of the building for the next 14 days”.

“But surely people will come down and get their groceries, medicines and other essential items? Walking a dog is an essential activity too”.

“You will have to figure something inside your house. We cannot make any exceptions. Maybe ask other dog owners how they are managing, you are not alone”, came the response as swiftly as before.

For her, the conversation was over. For me, I was struggling to figure ways to get across the urgency and ridiculousness of the matter. Who would understand that walking a dog is not merely a source of entertainment or exercise for a dog, its fundamental to them relieving themselves. Being a pet parent, this was not my first confrontation with an unreasonable rule. In a country where strays are a common sight, the concept of pet parenting and empathy towards pet needs is abysmally low. So far I had gotten away by simply not abiding with any rules I felt were unreasonable, but this time around I knew I may not be able to do so. If the police were to seal the doors of the building, exit would be impossible. As I sat contemplating the next course of action, my phone pinged with a message from an unknown number “Ankush, Devi raised your issue in the committee meeting, just give us some time. We will figure something about pet walks. I have a dog myself and she wont pee inside the house either. We have a meeting with the police later tonight. I will discuss with them and try and find a resolution.” I heaved a sigh of relief. This was Javed - another committee member, and thankfully a pet parent himself. I thanked him and waited patiently to hear back from him - Hush and I had time, the next walk was not for another 6 hours.

As hours slipped by, Hush and I waited patiently to hear back from him. At ten, Hush ambled across the living room towards the main door of the house, pressed his body against it and sat down – the sign was clear, it was time for his walk.

An hour passed by, Hush had dozed off but I was beginning to lose patience, just when the screen flashed with a notification, a message on the residents whatsapp group – “an agreement with the police has been arrived – residents may step out of the building to the main gate to receive groceries and other essential items that they order for. No one steps out of the building for any other reason – exercise, walk or anything.”

There was no reference to pets, I freaked out.

Ping comes another notification, a personal message from Javed “hey I spoke to one of the police officers and its ok for residents to step down for walking their dogs so long as they do it one at a time and nowhere beyond the parking lot”. I virtually hugged the phone, got the harness and took a very groggy golden down for his walk.

Little was I to know what the coming days were going to unfold for the two of us…

CHAPTER 2 : The Build Up

The next morning overcome by gratitude for Javed, I messaged him offering some freshly baked brownies. The day started off well as I walked Hush in an eerily quiet parking lot – the whole place bore a deserted look, as did the entire city. The usual blaring of horns and chatter of people and cars replaced with crawing of crows or an isolated mynaah somewhere. It is amazing how a sight can both spook as well as charm you – the quietness & the vacancy of the surroundings was both, haunting and lovely.

As I got back to my flat, prepared my morning cup of coffee and logged in for my first work call, the intercom rang. The ringing sound startled me more than it had ever before. Since the lockdown, we had stopped allowing any visitors into the complex, the intercom had not rung for over a week now, I had almost forgotten it even existed.

“Hello”

“Saab, I am the guard calling from the lobby. Do you have Malini’s number?”

“Ya sure. But why?”

“Saab, she used to work at Mr Srinivas’ house and had been working at their house even after they came back from Spain. Now that Mr Srinivas is sick the BMC guys want to have her tested too, in case she is positive like him. We don't have her number, but I know Malini comes to your place for household work too"
 

As I got off the intercom, I was relieved to calculate that it had been 12 days since Malini had last come to my apartment. I had had no symptoms so hopefully there was nothing to worry about. I tried reaching out to her but her number came busy so I put the whole thing behind me. A thought however gnawed at me, the gentleman who had been tested positive had claimed to be in self isolation, then how come he let his maid in? I guess that's the irony of a nation full of people like us,  so used to receiving every convenient service at our homes that we are now completely unwilling to take charge of our own household responsibilities even at the peril of the lives of maids and others around us. Only a week ago, I had written in my blog " COVID - Our Crucible Moment" that this crisis will truly bring us face to face with who we are and what really matters to us. My hunch is that the only thing about this crisis that many of us would remember is the lack of household help.

It was 2 PM and I was whipping up a quick lunch for myself when the intercom went off again.

“Hi Ankush. This is Devi from the society committee. The BMC has just completed contact tracing from Mr Srinivas. It appears that after they returned from Spain, their maids continued to come to work for a few days. One of those maids works at your place too so unfortunately now you will have to stay in strict quarantine. You can not step out of your home for the next 14 days.”

I was totally taken aback. “Devi, I understand that I need to isolate myself. But why for 14 days? My maid has not been coming to work for over 12 days now. You know that no maids have been allowed inside the building since the junta curfew. Also I must step out to walk Hush!”

“I am sorry Ankush. This is not for me to decide or discuss. The decision is BMC’s. I cannot help. But please do not violate these norms – this is really serious.” While the tone was tense I could sense that it was meant for my own good, my usual belligerence could cause my own fall in this situation. “You are lucky that you are being placed in home quarantine. They could even be recommending putting you in a quarantine facility. Please don’t give them a reason to reconsider their decision”, she added in good measure.
A "house arrest", as miserable as it sounds, is not too tough to manage when you have a well stocked up kitchen, however what do you do when you have a dog in the house? As recommended by Devi, I thought of seeking advise from other residents. The most common advise that I received on our resident group, was to not worry – a dog will eventually relieve himself inside the house, when he is absolutely not able to hold in. This advise was beyond bewildering for me, as I am sure it would be to any caring pet parent. A dog would go through many stages of grief and self torture before betraying the training he has received as a pup - to never relieve himself inside his house. Such is the nature of a dog. As a pet parent, to just watch the plight of a trusting, loyal, devoted, playful dog whose happiness centres around yours, as he goes through this phase was beyond impossible for me to comprehend. 

I ate my lunch in silence and started putting together a plan of action – a busy mind worries less. I started by reminding myself, that as a pup, Hush did relieve himself inside the house. If I could teach him to relieve himself outside the house, surely there would be a way to teach him to relieve inside the house?! Apparently the age old adage “you cannot teach old dog new tricks” is not all that true. according to Cesar Millan, dogs are very adept at learning at any age. This gave me confidence. However the amount of content on this subject did not. There was absolutely no content on the internet, on “how to train your dog to poop inside the house”. Even the google autocomplete would offer all kinds of suggestions but not the one I was looking for.

How to train your dog to poop?

How to train your dog to poop in a toilet?

How to train your dog to poop outside the house?

How to train your dog to poop at a fixed spot?

How to train your dog to poop in the backyard?

….

Finally I stumbled on one article “Dogs in quarantine” – and that became my starting point. It offered me two practical suggestions –

1. To mimic the process of a dog walk inside the house – basically put your dog in his harness, carry your phone and keys etc – and then walk the dog around in the house just like a walk outdoors,  eventually taking him to the spot where you wish for him to relieve himself. Keep repeating this drill, until your dog figures out and relieves himself.

2. Stay calm - Dogs tend to pick up their master’s anxiety and that makes them anxious too and an anxious dog is even less likely to relieve himself.

I will cut to the chase and tell you that only one of these two advises worked in my case. Any guesses which one it was?

As I continued to mimic Hush’s walks, twice, thrice, ten…and over the next few days, countless times, it was to no avail. The poor boy diligently walked with me but every time we would pass the main door, he would pause and tug towards it, expecting to be taken out. Not once did he relieve himself at the designated or any other place in the house. Eighteen hours flew by....but no relief came across. By this time, Hush looked distinctly uncomfortable, and I, felt vividly so too. The story continues on the link below : https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_63.html