Hush, I & that which went between us those days - Part 2

This is the second part of a three part story. If you have not read the first part yet, you may want to access the same via this link first,

https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_16.html

 

Chapter 3: The Downward Spiral

I woke up with a start – the morning breeze had a little nip in it. I had left the balcony door open at night, in case Hush felt like relieving himself and figured that balcony was the spot to go at. I immediately jumped up and scanned the entire floor of the room for signs of pee or poop. This was a common practice when Hush was a pup…for the first six months, until he was vaccinated, we could not take him down for walks so he had to relieve himself in the  house. So I would invariably wake up to the sight of pee on the floor, and to avoid stepping on to it, I would first scan the floor and then get off the bed. Back then I would wish to not be welcomed by a sight of pee, however at this point, I was not sure if I was wishing to see or not see any mess – but once I noticed there was none, I almost immediately wished that there was some! The day was mockingly pleasant. As I looked at the forlorn face of my dog, I was pained at the idea of the discomfort he must be in – and a discomfort he does not know why he deserves to be in. It had now been 24 hours since Hush had relieved himself. The attempts to get him to do anything in the balcony had just not worked. We had spent the night before, till 3 AM in hourly walks around the house, each one concluding in the balcony of my bedroom. But all that he would do is to sit in the balcony and nothing more. To him, it was a part of his house, his sitting area, not a place to mess up. Exhausted by the effort and mental strain, at 3 AM I finally turned off the lights and decided to lie down in hope that once he figures that we aren’t going out for a walk, he would eventually relent. I am not sure when I dozed off, but at 4 AM I was suddenly awakened to the sight of Hush sitting upright on my bed staring down at me unblinkingly. His expression was blank and face unmoved. Unable to read him, I decided to be hopeful. I immediately got up, put on his harness and walked  him into the balcony. There was a quizzical expression on his face which seemed to say “Why don’t you get me? I need to go out”

I sensed the plea in his eyes and it hurt me to imagine his discomfort. I hugged Hush “I am sorry baba. But we cannot go down. You have to relieve yourself here. Please, can you do so?”

The weariness of the night felt less so in the bright sunshine of the morning, and I made a solemn resolve – I have to make this work. There has to be a way and I need to figure it out. I started with putting Hush on the harness and walk him around the house. After the first round itself, Hush stopped. He had figured the routine and was not keen to pursue it. He was feeling heavy, claustrophobic and these rounds about the house further added to his discomfort. Suddenly he tugged at the harness and fell flat on his tummy. If he wasn’t going out, he wasn’t going anywhere anymore. I took off his harness, and patted his head, he wagged his tail in return. I may not be able to give him what he needs, but I had to do everything in my power to make him realize that he was not being punished, that we were in this bad place, together.

Hush shut his eyes and dozed himself off in the discomfort.

I logged into my laptop, opened the calendar and cancelled all the meetings in the day, put an out of office and dropped a message to my boss informing her that I would like to take a day off. I called up the vet and hung up on her very helpful advise to not worry and hope Hush would pee soon. Scanning the net continued for hours with very little helpful material. Eventually, I disconnected and called up Devi to enquire if there was any development from the discussion with the BMC – there was none. I had no choice but to stay inside. As I poured out my woes to her, there was nothing she could do but hear me out. By this point I had started feeling helpless and the thought of sustaining this for another 13 days made me panic. What if Hush fell sick during this period? Already I had read on the internet that if a dog went more than a day or two without relieving himself, he runs the risk of urinary tract infection or constipation - the thought of such complications were manifesting in my own physical well being, my breath tightened, chest started feeling heavy and all the symptoms of hyperventilation set in. I have to keep myself calm and centred, I said to myself as I took a few deep breaths. I contemplated calling some friends for ideas, but almost any one I knew would get ruffled at the thought of my misery and in turn aggravate my own condition. I couldn’t have someone hyperventilating around me at this time – already I had to hold myself back from doing so.

An hour later, the matters got worse, the sanitation workers who had refused to enter the building to collect the garbage two days ago, had now agreed that they would collect the garbage if all households take their trash down and leave it in the bins outside the building. This caused cheer for all flats but those who were in strict home quarantine – we could not step out of our flats so there was no way of getting our garbage out. Just when I thought I had hit rock bottom – the rock bottom pulled open revealing another layer below it. I went straight from feeling miserable to feeling victimized, isolated and marginalized. The helplessness of the situation gave rise to anger directed solely at the individual who currently was battling COVID in a hospital ward and his ill fated decision to let in his maid for household chores. One act to ease his life, was causing discomfort to someone who he had never met, seen or interacted with – and the realization that the brunt of this was borne by an innocent dog who had neither the knowledge nor the sense to process the situation made my fury wild! “FUCK!!”, I yelled, followed by a loud volley of abuses hurled at people unknown, unseen but definitely identifiable as the cause of my and Hush’s current misery. It felt like a volcano had erupted from within me, which five minutes later left me feeling light and calm. A calmness that was not long to last. Over the next few days I found myself flipping between a state of calm during which I would forgive Mr Srinivas and family for their unwitting trespass, and falling back into that abyss where I would spew venom at everyone around. As this cycle of blame and forgiveness continued within me, the nerd in me also realized that Kubler-Ross’ grieving process is not a one way street where we go through stages of grief in any particular order. It’s like an emotional roller coaster rising and falling in an erratic fashion, sometimes triggered by extraneous and sometimes just unknown internal triggers. My mind snapped from victimization, to denial, to regret to acceptance to forgiveness in no particular order, revisiting each one every now and then and then again. However I cannot thank my stars enough, for having the resilience to never falling down the abyss of self pity!

By end of the day Hush looked pale and sick, he had not eaten anything all day, only sipped a little water and become completely inactive. His eyes had lost their sheen, playful nature completely dormant and lying on the floor he looked thin, old and somehow grey. Another day was coming to a close, the twilight felt darker and more ominous than usual as I sat by his side shrouded in misery and pure unadulterated depression.

Eventually, I decided to let someone in on my state. After due deliberation I decided it had to be my boss – she and I shared a great personal equation, yet our relationship was more professional than personal thus ensuring she wont be too emotional about the situation. Also her empathy was likely to soothe me at this hour.

So we set up a virtual coffee session at 7 that evening – a refreshing lightness fell in the pit of my stomach as I narrated to her the saga, a fake smile plastered across my face. She heard me with her signature patience and concern and as she spoke I could feel myself calming down a little. In her usual form she seamlessly switched from empathizing to offering solutions – practical advise coming from a mother’s perspective.

“Don’t worry – just keep talking to him I am sure he will figure eventually that you need him to relieve himself in the house. Dogs are very perceptive that way. He just needs to know that you are ok with it…..well, have you considered cranking up the AC, It may create a greater urge to pee…..how about creating a sand pit and take him there to pee – ask your guards to dig out some dirt from the garden and get for you.”

While Hush continued to remain unrelieved, the conversation made me realize that I had under-estimated my need for an emotional release – lighter from the conversation and armed with some new ideas to experiment, I gathered my residual energy. All the three ACs in the house were promptly turned on with temperature set at 18C, lights were dimmed and I went on with the task of creating a sand pit. I had a pot still awaiting a plant, so I started digging the mud out of it with my bare hands for the sand pits. I decided to create two of them – one in the outside bay area of one of the bathrooms, and the other one in one of the balconies. Both of these were the least visited parts of the house, likely that Hush would consider them as safe areas to relieve himself within the house.

Busy with some activity, the distraction soothed me from the self gnawing thoughts of Hush’s misery. It took me 45 minutes to create the two sand pits, I even threw in some branches and leaves on them to mimic a little raggedy garden. All this while, Hush lay asleep on the cold living room floor.

An hour went by and I knew I had to wake him up else he would go on sleeping forever. Sleep was his refuge from the current discomfort. I served him some yoghurt with honey, food that he was unable to resist. Then I got him onto his harness and took him for a round to the sand pit in the balcony. He glanced at it, curious at the pop up garden which wasn’t there the last time around. He walked up to it and sniffed around – the soil, the strands of the grass and the stray leaves and bushes lying around it. I looked at him hopefully, as he paused to take one last sniff of it. Suddenly his tail wagged gaily and he looked back at me, as if smiling. What?!? It was clear, he was not going to pee in the garden that I had created, no matter how shabby a job I would have done of it - it was something that I had created.

He went back into the bed room, lay down and closed his eyes. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and the crashing of my new found hope transformed this exhaustion into anger. Anger emanating from desperation, helplessness rushing uncontrollably from my gut..... What I did next, I would regret for a long time. I rushed up to Hush, and shook him awake…. “WAKUP! And get going!” I ran into the bedroom, livid at the situation and my desperation at what I could only perceive as his stubbornness. I put him in his harness – by now he knew he wasn’t going anywhere for a walk so Hush made no effort to get up. I shook the dog, pulled him up and started “walking” him around the house. With a full bladder and immense discomfort in his gut, the last thing that he wanted was any movement. As Hush unsuccessfully tried to use his paws to screech him to a halt, he got dragged across the floor of the bedroom. Angered at his apparent belligerence, I picked him and steadied his legs. Thoroughly scared, Hush surrendered immediately. As I paced up and down across the rooms in the house, pulling Hush along with me, I yelled – “Why wont you relieve yourself? Dont you understand it? What should I do?”. He had to understand what I was saying, surely he cant be so clueless, I reasoned with myself. A visibly scared Hush kept walking by my heel, not sure what was upsetting me and how he could appease. By the end of five such rounds, my anger subsided and got replaced with utmost shame and horror at the realization that I had made him even more miserable than he already felt. I finally stopped in the balcony, feeling weak and miserable. Hush was simply not prepared to indulge in an act that he had been trained since childhood – and I was failing to retrain him.

In that small balcony cooped on the 12^th floor of a high rise building, with no one around to see, sat a man on his haunches holding his head in his palms and a dog squatting next to him, looking expectantly at him unsure of how to oblige his master, with a slight wag in his tail in an attempt to cheer him up.

That night, the TV played on mute, I sat distracted and he in trance in a room that had never been so silent, devoid of any sounds from within or outside. Two souls in shared misery, one who thought he did everything he could in the situation and willing to do anything more if only he knew what. The other who possibly had the only key to the situation but unwilling or unaware of the same. That evening, Hush did not climb on my bed. We both had our own opposite ways to deal with the misery – he put himself to sleep quickly to ignore the discomfort, and I refusing to put myself in any comfort lay awake till 4... The story continues, the last part of the story is in the link below: https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_28.html

Hush, I & that which went between us those days - Part 3

This is the 3rd and the final part of this story. If you have not read the first two parts, you may want to read them first via the links below:

Part 1:https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_16.html

Part 2:https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_63.html

 

CHAPTER 4 - The Absolution

The morning breeze hung heavy and thick in the room, I lay in my bed feeling ironically gloomy in the brightness of the day. As I sat up on the bed I threw a glance at the sand pit in the balcony outside – it looked back mocking at me with its dry, unspoilt form. I looked back at Hush who lay there in half a coma, not even expecting to be taken for a walk. I contemplated on my current situation - giving up was uncharacteristic of me, and damnit, I had promised to offer every comfort and care to Hush when I adopted him, if this situation was not the true test of it, what else would be? I decided to change my approach - forget about walking hush, quarantine etc- I need to understand how can I get a dog to poop! As I started scanning online pages on this topics, I came across a series on assisting elderly dogs who are unable to relieve themselves without some external assistance. The videos that followed were not for the faint hearted, but they offered some practical advise on how to get a dog anatomy and how to make  dog pee or poop. Gross as they seemed, at that moment, nothing seemed excessive or tough to me.

As I looked at my sand pit, I was reminded how as a puppy, I had struggled to get Hush to relieve himself on paper or pads. I would lay them all around the house at spots that he would go to relieve himself, but Hush would pee anywhere but on those papers. It was almost like he could smell me on those papers and felt inappropriate to relieve himself on those. As I now stared at the sand pit, I wondered if the same thing was repeating itself here? Could he probably not be realizing that the sand pits were created for him to relieve himself?  All that dirt and soil and plants that I had placed there with my own bare hands carried my unmistakable scent on them and thus seemed wrong for him to dirty? I then realized that I had to do something symbolic for him to know the purpose of the sand pit – maybe Hush was not being stubborn, he was still not getting a clear enough cue that the sand pit is a place meant to relieve oneself. I may be wrong, but there was only one way to find out. I walked out to the balcony, stood in front of the sand pit, unzipped my shorts, and….relieved myself on it.

Having had my hopes risen only to be crushed so many times these last few days, I was not prepared to get hopeful again. This was one more attempt to try and try I did. I then gave Hush a massage in his abdominal area (where the bladder resides), it was clearly swollen and full – hopefully some artificial pressure would make him want to go. He stood patiently and worked against my pressure. Calmly, I got him on his harness for his walk and a short stroll across the living room later I walked him to the balcony. This time, Hush lingered a little longer at the sand pit, sniffed around curiously, he had figured something was different about it. His tail lost its wag, he stood there his head hanging about as if contemplating something. Suddenly he turned around and went back into the bedroom and lay down. Surrendering, I followed suit.

An hour later, as I got to fixing my lunch, Hush walked up to the kitchen door and just stood there. Something was unusual as he did not walk into his favourite room in the house, the place which always smelt of food. He just stood there, gazing at me for many moments and then sheepishly walked away. Surprised, I continued working in the kitchen for a while until I noticed that the house was rather quiet and I couldn’t even hear Hush’s footsteps. I tip toed towards the balcony with the sand pit, he wasn’t there, the bathroom in which’s bay area there was the second sand pit, he wasn’t there either. I found him in the other bathroom at the far end of the house sitting by himself. As he caught sight of me, he got up and walked out. Was he going to relieve himself there?, I wondered. I kicked myself for peering!

I walked back into the kitchen and decided to leave him by himself. Once again, Hush ambled into the kitchen, looked at me and then walked out. He went towards the same bathroom again. This time I didn’t bother to go and inspect. A part of me really hopeful that he would relieve himself there. Ah, wouldn’t this lunch turn into a feast! Moments later, he walked back into the kitchen, looking just as miserable as before. Damn, did he or did he not? I went up to the bathroom, and disappointment stared back at me again. I walked back towards the kitchen, wondering what was this bewildering behaviour of Hush? Maybe he was just not able to take it anymore…I should comfort him. He was no longer in the kitchen or the living room, so I went looking for him in my bedroom. As I walked in, I saw Hush out in the balcony, sniffing at the sand pit. I quickly retraced my steps and stood quietly for some time. As I slowly peeped back again, I felt a gush of joy brimming, Hush was taking position to relieve himself! With much strain and some rather long seconds, Hush peed…..for the first time in 54 hours! As he slowly marched back into the bedroom, an ashamed distraught look on his face, I bent down to give him a tight hug, patted him down repeating “Here’s my good doggie. Good Hush. Good Hush. Well done! Good boy!”

Hush was now aware that there was a corner in the house where it was ok to relieve himself. I now had to help him get over his resistance to poop, but thankfully with a few tips from the internet, I was now in a much more comfortable and centred place.

By evening some more good news followed, Malini had tested negative for COVID and the committee had agreed to put up a request with the BMC to allow for our home quarantine to be lifted. As the sun set that evening, Hush and I sat in the bedroom next to each other – none of the tricks to make him poop had worked but there was a general underlying feeling of positivity and calm around – I had been lifted significantly from the lowly pits I was in just 24 hours ago. Since afternoon, Hush had paid 3 visits to his sand pit, sniffing around it, checking it out, not relieving but nearly contemplating about it.

From a distance somewhere, the wind blew in a beautiful melody from a timeless film “Waqt” – Aage bhi, jaane na tu….

 

CHAPTER 5 – The Requiem

The ringing of the elusive intercom awoke me. I sat up at my bed, not sure when I had gone to sleep, the TV was still running, the balcony door was wide open and the sand pit aside from the tell tale signs of last afternoon’s activity was largely lying redundant. Hush was lying on the floor – not having slept on the bed for three nights now. Another ring of the intercom brought me back to consciousness, and I jumped out of the bed to the living room.

Hello.

Hi Ankush. This is Devi.

It had to be good news, I could feel it in my bones

Some good news for you. As you know Malini’s test came negative yesterday. We had an early morning call with the BMC officer today and he has agreed to lift the quarantine limitations on you and the three other families who Malini used to visit. You will still remain in self isolation like the rest of us but you can step outside your flat. You know this means that we can now collect your garbage…

Every feeling can be weighed, and akin to Archimedes principle of measuring volume of objects by the amount of water they displace, the weight of feeling can be felt by the sensation of relief that you experience within you when that feeling passes. I don’t even know if that makes any sense, nor do I care, just as I didn’t care for what Devi was saying about the garbage collection. I immediately opened the main door of my house, let out a shrill whistle and walked out of my flat with Hush’s harness in my hands. I knew I had to do something visibly symbolic for him to believe that I meant to take him down for a walk outside, the harness in my hands had lost its significance in the last 3 days.

Hush lay motionless for many moments, staring at the open door and me outside the flat in the foyer. Finally he heard the elevator door open and me step half way in to keep the door open. At this he sat up, and in a second Hush bolted out of the main door, across the foyer and into the lift.

The house door remained open, I couldn’t care less.

Hush was not wearing his harness, I couldn’t care less.

As we got out of the lift, he bolted out across the parking lot and scampered across his favourite spots relieving himself, sniffing around and getting his jaunty back.

I was relieved to note that even though he had to strain himself to poop, he was able to do so without too much struggle. The grey was shedding slowly, giving way to the familiar golden again.

I am not one of those pet parents, who refer to their dogs as their children and treat them so. I don’t feel the need to think of my dog as a child in order to feel love and care for him – I love him for who he is – he is a dog. It is this awareness that causes me to fully appreciate the fact that there are people out there who feel scared of my dog and thus expect me to keep a firm hand on him when he walks past them. Yes I know my dog is playful and harmless, but they don’t know that. Mistaking him for a child, I would undermine the fact that to many people he looks like any other large scary dog with sharp teeth and nails. Mistaking him for a child, can also cause me to completely fail at establishing a master-dog relationship that is an essential paradigm of raising a dog, even for his own well being. In fact I recall once being reprimanded by one of my friends for referring to my dog as “dog”. "How can you treat him like a dog? He is like your child Ankush", he said. To which I responded calmly, "I don’t need someone to be a human, for me to treat them humanely". When I adopted Hush I knew he was my responsibility and I did it only once I was sure I could afford him the love, care and attention that he deserves and requires. For that I don’t need to treat him like a human – he is a dog and I love him more than some parents could claim for their own children.

Those 72 hours with Hush brought to my realization the immense grit and determination I possess as a pet parent to help my dog tide through a very unpleasant and uncomfortable experience. An indelible bond that exists between him and me and the powerful emotion that exists deep within me to love, protect and provide for him selflessly. I am not sure if any other experience has ever brought me in touch so powerfully with this truth about myself. 

Tea with Marie

She feels the shift in the breeze and that awakens her – the hot afternoon stillness has given way to this pleasant evening waft. It must be almost five, she thinks to herself still adrift in that moment before awakening, her shut eyelids sensing the play of sun’s mild ineffective rays filtering through the branches of the jamun tree swaying in the garden. Just the thought of such a welcoming pleasant sight makes her rise with a smile. The sun indeed is inching closer to the horizon, the weather pleasant and the breeze blowing into the room through the balcony doors feeling a little cold on her back damp with sweat. She sits up in her bed taking in a couple of deep breaths of air blowing across the patio from the garden, fresh and fragrant with scents of rose, lilies and moist grass. “I must check if the gardener has set the sprinklers on, the ground must be so parched having baked in the afternoon sun”, she thinks to herself. The rose bushes usually look bright but she knew the roots clutch hard at the cracked soil trying to squeeze the last drop of moisture through it. Her prized roses, admired by all, a source of pride and envy in equal measures – the thought itself makes her smile, straightens her back and lifts those droopy shoulders. She reaches out for her mane of hair and untangles them with her fingers. As she shakes her head, the hair blow in the breeze, leaving a calming effect on her cooling scalp. With one stroke and a deft tug she rolls them up in a bun high up on her head, tucking irreverent stray strands behind her ears. She gets up from her bed with some effort holding on to the headboard for support, then takes a few steps and leans on to the door that opens in the porch. She waits to catch her breath and for her knees to slowly get back to life from the long afternoon slumber. Steadying herself, she slides the door fully open.

Another deep breath, and she can smell her garden – it is the best hours of hot Summer days, she opines. “Ah my dear friends, how are you this evening?” While everyone would admire her roses, her personal favourite were the marigolds. Marigolds were not the first to arrive in her garden, the first were the roses – after all everyone wants a rose garden, herself included, but the marigolds came soon after. The staple flowers of any Indian celebration, she planted them upon her return from her favourite niece’s wedding as an eternal reminder of that beautiful occasion. Of course she would always tell Ravi that this fact was just incidental and not why marigolds were her favourite. “The real reason” she would say, “is the smell. Marigolds smell so cold and pleasant. Yes, even fragrances have a temperature – close your eyes and take a mild whiff of marigolds, they emit a cooling sensation. Meerut is always so hot, its nice to sit by the flowers in the evening that feel cool to smell.” Ravi with his whimsical smile would ask him wife “So really? You think marigolds smell better than roses?” “Not better…but yeah roses smell warm.” Ravi had no penchant for gardening but he had it in abundance for her and so he would always procure all the seeds and saplings from the local nursery that she would desire then dig around mud and carefully lay compost  precisely as per her directions. He would bask in the joy on her face when in a shrub would bloom that first flower.  

She stands by the door in admiration of her garden, ah how well it has come up! Soon, the kids will be up and run into it, roll on the grass, play Catch, hide and seek and invariably end up getting dirty. They love climbing the boundary wall to reach out to the branches of the jamun tree to pluck the jamuns – she would have to call out to them to first wash the fruit before eating it. Of course their mother would make that unapproving clicking sound with her tongue at the sight of them wiping off their jamun strained fingers on their shirts. Ah, those are tough stains to remove – a worry for a mother who has to get them cleaned, not for a grand mother who revels in the joy her outdoor playground brings to these kids. “Noone can replace this, no one can offer it”, she sighs in contentment. In their little universe, there is a special corner, a corner of beautiful garden filled with thick luscious grass, shrubs of bougainvillea, bushes of marigold, rose plants, pots of ferns, moneyplant, & palms and a jamun tree, a corner that she has created and would remain in their memory forever.  Their favourite game in the garden is “Detective” – one of them would stomp over the fallen jamuns and then create purple footsteps around the porch. They would then collectively weave a story of who the culprit is and what the footsteps tell them about his actions. She would sit and enjoy the elaborate tales they would weave – borrowing bits and pieces from the comics they would have read earlier in the day or the movies they would watch with their parents. The boundless creativity of childhood lost on middle aged worrisome parents and cherished by retiring grand parents.

Her musings are interrupted, as she realizes it is still rather quiet for the hour. Should not have kids been up by now? “It is getting late”, she mumbles to herself, “Mahima should awaken them, wash their faces and let them out. It is only going to be a couple of hours before sundown”. We must also call out for tea, and some biscuits – chocolate cream ones for the kids, Good day cookies for Mahima, English Marie for her and bhujia for Satish. He has no sweet tooth, just like his parents – her husband would always say “Tea should be mildly sweet and to enhance its flavour, we must have something neutral with it.” It was he who got her hooked on to English Marie, the thin round discs with their trademark mild flavour and distinct fragrance (Sheila would characterize them as cool too, “just like the English weather”, she would laugh and say). Satish agreed with his dad’s theory only to the extend of not wishing for anything sweet with Tea, but Marie he felt tasted like nothing. “Its cardboard”, he would say “not surprising its called English, like all their food, its bland”. So that’s how it would come about that when Satish, Mahima and kids would come for summer vacations, the Tea would be served with three types of biscuits and a bowl full of namkeen bhujia.

Let me step out, Sheila says to herself, as she steps on to the porch towards the garden. Her knees still stiff from the nap. Age seriously had caught up with her sooner than she had expected – it wasn’t until yesterday that I could take a walk around the garden, now I can barely walk past the porch, she wonders. The smile still on her face but now clouding with a frown that is fast deepening in her brow. She takes another step towards the garden – the potted plants closer to the porch are right there and she can see the dandelions, hibiscus and the succulents in them but her sight fails to catch the bougainvillea shrub at the other end of her garden. Finally, she manages the four steps required to cross the porch and reach the wicker gate to the garden…where’s the latch? She feels around the gate but is unable to locate it. As she bends down to look more closely at the gate, her eyes grappling with near-sightedness, the smile on her face dissolves in a look of bewilderment. She just cannot figure how to work the gate – the bamboo shoots with a metallic latch feel unfamiliar. “When did we put a metallic rod on it?”, she wonders, “and where is the latch?” Impatience grips her, but that and the sustained bewilderment start to wear down her frail frame. Before she even realizes how, her bun’s come undone causing her hair to fall loose on her shoulders and she is crouching in the balcony holding tight to the railing her knees having given way.

“Amma”…she hears a distant cry,

“Arre what are you doing sitting on the ground? Did you fall Amma?”

“Satish, help me. Amma has fallen in the balcony. Kya yaar, I have told you so many times, keep the balcony door of Amma’s room locked properly. This is the third time since she has returned from the hospital that she has somehow walked into the balcony and fallen there”

“Oh. Amma are you okay?”, asks Satish to his very confused mother. His heart piercing with a thousand needles at the sight of his mother so frail, looking so beaten and lost. Sheila can barely respond. She looks around and finds herself in the balcony clutching at the railing and her back set against the door of the bedroom she has no recollection of walking out of. Satish and Mahima try to lift her, she struggles to get up but is glad to realize she isn’t hurt. As their collective might manages to stand her up, she catches a sight of the view beyond the balcony. Its open skies with an unobstructed view of the Mumbai skyline.

“Amma, why do you keep walking out into the balcony? What if you trip over? Achcha, come now. Lets have some tea. Everyone is up.”

The couple support her to the living room, quite bright but quiet. Sunlight filters in from the large French doors opening into another balcony – once again the only view is that of open skies stretching in the beyond with some buildings at a distance. Sheila is seated at one end of the dining table alone. The kids, all three of them in the living room unheeded their mother’s calls or dadi’s arrival at the dining table, are glued to their devices. Satish himself is now glued to the TV watching the India-Australia match which has just begun. The maid is bustling in and out of the kitchen with cups and saucers, a large pot of tea, a jug of Horlicks and plates of hot pakodas. Mahima irritated at the kids not listening to her and the noise from the TV commentator blaring nonsense excitement at a ball three men are chasing down the field unsuccessfully, is pouring out Horlicks for the kids to drink. In the din, she hears a faint sound “Marie?”. She looks at Sheila, realizing that’s where the sound came from. “Asha” she yells, “Amma ke liye biskoot lao. And Satish please lower the volume of the TV. Can you please come at the dining table and give some company to Amma”.

Asha walks in with another plate of hot pakodas and a plate of Bourbon biscuits. “Oh, you silly woman. I told you yesterday as well, amma does not like cream biscuits. Get something plain for her.” “Didi, Jim Jam, 50-50, Kaju Pista ya kishmish wale?”, asks Asha. Her mistress glares back at her, “Plain wale, kaha na! Get those plain Glucose biscuits. Amma wont eat these”. Asha walks back into the kitchen with unusual briskness to mark how busy this household keeps her.

Sheila continues to sit dazed in a world of her own, oblivious of the frenzy her one word has created for the two women around her. Mahima, done with the Horlicks, now pours out tea in three cups and places one before Sheila. “Amma, chai. And here are some biscuits for you”.

Satish and the kids join Sheila & Mahima at the dining table. Satish loads his plate with a handful of pakodas topping them with ketchup. “You know we need to get more of these biscuits for Amma. She does not like any cream stuffing ones and likes plain biscuits with her tea” says Mahima. “Marie”, says Sheila, not touching the glucose biscuits. “Hmm, oh don’t we  have any Marie?” asks Satish. “No Satish no one at home eats Marie and to get a whole pack for Amma’s 1 Marie biscuit a day is a waste. At least Glucose biscuit is a smaller pack and Asha eats those too.”

Satish looks amused, passes a glance at his mother who is still waiting  having touched neither tea nor the biscuits on the table “Doesn’t look like Ma is going to have these”. Mahima looks impatiently at him with a clicking sound from her tongue, “Ok so you find Marie and get it. Its hardly in stock these days. By the way, Amma ate glucose biscuits yesterday, the day before and even at the hospital before that. She just doesn’t remember, that’s it! It will take a few minutes but she will have them.”

The kids gulp down their Horlicks and get back to the sofa firmly planted with their mobiles, Satish reaches out for another handful of the pakodas, Mahima takes a couple as well and then switches to her Good day cookies. In the kitchen, Asha, having done with serving tea, sits down on the floor with her own cup of tea and glucose biscuits.

Sheila, her gaze fixated at a distance smiles and mildly says “Chalo kids you should be playing in the garden. The sun is going to set soon. You wont be able to play Detective in the dark”. The household, as if in an alternate dimension, maintain their activities unaffected. Sheila continues to smile glassy eyed,  reaches out to the plate of the biscuits, picks one up, dips it in the hot tea and bites into it. “Ravi always used to say, we should eat something neutral with Tea so as to enjoy the flavour of Tea. That’s how he got me hooked on to Marie”, taking another bite she says, “But this Marie somehow doesn’t taste as good”.

OUR CRUCIBLE MOMENT - life in the times of covid19

Growing up every summer, when we would visit our grandparents, my brother and I would hear our grandfather narrate his tales from the partition time. He was the eldest son to a father with two wives, many siblings and a large extended family – and relocating the entire “tabbar” from Pindi to Delhi was a responsibility squarely on his shoulders. Even in the final years of his life, when Dementia almost took away all his memory and he would confuse me for my father, these tales still remained ever so deeply etched and got retold at every visit.

My father himself fondly narrates stories of his armed forces days – tales of Emergency, of the 1971 war and of his field postings in Ladakh and Kashmir.

Here is a fact about life - we live it every moment but it is remembered and defined by certain crucible moments. These are those milestone events of our lives which test our values by confronting us with our own versions of “Sophie’s choice”, challenges so unusual that our response to them leads to a discovery of who we really are and what truly matters to us. Once passed, these moments forever live as fables of our lives.  An interesting thing about these crucible moments is that when people talk about them, they often wish in hindsight that they had acted somewhat differently during these moments. As an HR professional, I often hear leaders narrate their crucible moments in leadership workshops and when you ask them what would you wish you had done differently? Their answers could be summed up in this statement – I wish I had acted with greater courage, gratitude and humanity.

As days and weeks roll by and the full impact of COVID is felt in India, times will become more bleak, scary and tough – people tested positive will no longer be someone far away but those in our vicinity, our acquaintance, our rations will deplete, working from home will start annoying us and this curfew will play on our nerves. This is our crucible moment, and one that impacts every walk of our lives - as a family member, as a boss, colleague and a member of the larger civic society. How we respond and react to situations that evolve in the next 3 weeks (or more) will frame our fable of this crucible moment. As a boss, lets be conscious that our subordinates are currently very concerned about the well being of their family, as a fellow citizen while we may store groceries for our families but let’s equally watch-out for poor families around us who have not the resources to buy in bulk or as the essential services like garbage collection weaken, we be patient instead of losing our temper at them. Remember, we are drafting the narrative of not just our crucible moment but someone else’s too, how would we want to appear in their narrative? And even if we were to ignore these narratives, we cannot ignore that this experience will shape the person we will be hereafter forever – what sort of a person would we want to be?

We need to be choice-ful of our responses. In every action, when we have a choice, lets choose the response which requires greater courage, allows us to demonstrate more gratitude and be more human. There is every chance that when we look back at this time in distant future, we will be glad & proud of ourselves to have made that choice.

#stayindoorsstaysafe.

Ankush Punj

Kalank - movie review

“Big budget films fail to deliver, while small films are thriving” – this is now being said so often that we run the risk in believing this fact! Zero, Thugs of H., Rangoon, Tubelightrepresenting big budget unsuccessful films while Badhai Ho, Stree, Andhadhun and a host of others as the small budget successful films. The notion that it’s the budget that fails the film is an obviously faulty one. But then what is going wrong with these big budget movies? That’s the theme with which I review the latest in the string of big budget flops – Kalank.

CONTENT (STORY AND SCREENPLAY) 

In promoting this movie we heard Karan Johar often stating that the story of Kalank was conceived 15 years ago – I found it hard to believe…..for the story feels archived from bollywood of 30 years ago. The illegitimate son seeking revenge, an all-sacrificing wife, an upright man fighting social archaic norms and a romance whose budding requires no justification – were all elements of the films of the mid-80s and early-90s. We have loved and cherished such films and hey make no mistake, its fine to revisit that age-old formula again but at least build the narrative that belongs to the audience of today! What fails Kalank is not really a stale story, but weak screenplay and direction. The story of the film offers enough conflicts to explore – predominant ones being between Madhuri-Varun, Sanjay-Madhuri, Aditya-Sonakshi, Varun-Alia, but the writer fails to dig below the surface on any of these. In absence of this depth and exploration, the film turns into a tedious 160-minutes journey tightly clutching on visual appeal and some good songs. 

On Content the film deserves not more than 1 out of 5 stars. 

PERFORMANCES

Over the years I have come to realize that a great performance in a film is not just credit to the actor but to the director as well. It takes a good director to extract a great performance from a seasoned actor. Kalank boasts of a stellar star cast, but for none of them Kalank would be a performance they would be remembered for.

As lead pair, Varun and Alia are completely out of depths performing characters which are way out of their reach. You don’t see the seething anger and hurt you would expect of a man who has been marginalized by his family and society, and in Alia fails to generate empathy one would feel for a woman who is stuck in a love-less and purpose-less existence. They are both promising actors but Kalank proves that both of themhave a long way to go to master their craft. Aditya Roy Kapoor is charming and a good fit as a decent, upright loving husband.

As for Madhuri, Sonakshi & Sanjay Dutt – I fail to understand why any of them agreed to perform their respective roles in Kalank. Sonakshi Sinha delivers on the brief but it’s a very small sketchy brief to begin with. Sanjay Dutt, unfortunately, looks lost and unconvincing in a role that at best needed an extra! Lastly, Madhuri Dixit – probably the only redeeming factor amongst all the actors in the film. She fits her character well, delivers a decent performance and as always charms you with a spell binding dance. However there  is just too little screen time offered to her. Yes, “Tabaah” offers some high points to cherish but gone are the days that one would be content by watching a powerhouse performer like her deliver just a couple of great dances in a film….she needs to do roles that offer her greater screen time and an opportunity to tap into her acting prowess. 

On Performances I would rate the film 1.5 out of 5.0. 

OTHER TECHNICAL ASPECTS 

The film boasts of some good Music, the best ones being the title track, Pardesia and Tabaah. In the interest of time, “First Class” & “Aira Gaira” could easily have been dropped – neither the most melodious numbers, nor did they fit the screenplay well. 

The cinematography is impressive however I would seriously question the Art Direction – someone seems to have confused a “period film” for a “fantasy film”. The sets and visuals are impressive but so out of place that instead of adding to the feel of the film, they tend to negate it. For instance, in a particularly dramatic scence where one is supposed to feel sad for the characters in the scene, I couldn’t hold back a laugh totally distracted by the out of place backdrop and the sets. Totally acceptable if you base the film in 5th century Atlantis not 1940’s Lahore! 

Thanks to the redeeming features of music and cinematography, on technical aspects the film would score 2.5 out of 5.0. 

To sum up, I have two insights to share. 

Firstly, unlike many people I did not feel that the film was inspired from Bhansali-style of filmmaking. There is a level of realism that exists even in a Bhanasali-world. To me this seemed to be a Bahubali inspired backdrop mounted unfortunately for a period film! Guys, don’t tear down the sets, just get a historical-fantasy script and shoot it on the same sets…it might make for a more appropriate film….and if the script is good, who knows, you may have a winner at hand. 

Secondly – rounding back to my opening remark. Success or failure of the film has nothing to do with the budget. Stories need to be told at a price that they require to tell them. Focus on the screenplay and audience will come! Unfortunately, it seems that budgets are decided regardless of the story and once a big budget is signed off, everything but the story & screenplay takes priority. 

On that note, I conclude 2.0 out of 5.0 stars for Kalank.  

Movie Review - Gully Boy

In one line Gully Boy is a story of a dream not commensurate to one’s reality. An oft-related uplifting tale that challenges the notion that “chasing a dream is the purview of only the affluent”. The premise is not new, but the treatment definitely is – and in that treatment Gully Boy takes Bollywood a leap forward. The star of Gully Boy is Zoya Akhtar! Four movies old, Zoya has come of age and with Gully Boy made an offering that is leaps ahead of her previous ventures. Don’t get me wrong – Zindagi naa milegi…, Dil Dhadakne Do are my guilty pleasures but essentially they are pleasant breezy entertaining movies lacking depth and nuance to characters as well as the situations. With Gully Boy, she has retained her essential entertaining breezy element and added to it a dollop of depth, nuance & quality of filmmaking that raises the film to probably one of the best in recent times.

Technical aspects

Story & Screenplay: Inspired from the real life story of a rap artist from Mumbai – the story has been embellished into an engaging screenplay. Yes, embellished would be an apt word – it is an essential ingredient when telling a story of passion that surmounts all odds stacked against an individual . It is an inspiring story, told well. There are a few movies that make you realize there is an art to storytelling – very few filmmakers really get it, even fewer seem to adopt it.

Art Direction: I admit I am not an expert on this subject but this is something that stuck me quite impressive in the film. Very few films do justice to the city they are based in – Gully Boy does full justice to Mumbai! Pan shots of Dharavi, local trains, South Mumbai, city streets at night, the clubs - Mumbai is a full fledged character in the film. The film doesn’t gloss over poverty, garbage and crowds of the city, choosing to play up shots of the sea-link, sea side but remains firmly grounded in the root of the city yet beautifully brings it all together in frames that make you love the city and all that comes along with it.

Music

As would be expected, music plays an essential role in the film – not just the numerous rap songs but the background score which lifts the mood and plays a pivotal role in carrying the movie through. Its hard to pick a few of the favourites but Apna Time Aayega, Azadi, Kab se Kab Tak, Sher Aaya Sher & Jahan tu Chala definitely are for me to hear on loop!

Performances

For long Ranvir Singh was passed off as a bundle of energy cast into North Delhi roles and nothing more. Lootera, Dil Dhadakne Do, Padmavaat demanded attention to an actor who is bringing in diversity and range to his performance like no other actor in the current lot. With Gully Boy it is impossible to ignore the perfectionist in him – with Gully Boy he has delivered a fine nuanced performance raising the fundamental question if he is indeed ahead of the likes of Ranbir Kapoor who for far too long held at a higher pedestal higher than the rest of his peer-set.

In scenes where Murad pens down some of his deep reflective poetry, the pain and grief in Ranvir’s eyes is the mark of a fine actor, as is the look and demeanour of the man who inherently is brought up believing that “aankh neeche rakhke seedhe chalte raho”, making Ranvir restrain his trademark energy and exuberance.

The rest of the cast holds on their own well and to expectations. Vijay Raj, stands out as the man whose frail frame looks ready to break anytime with the burdern of his and his family’s existence. How he manages to demonstrate in his vacant angry eyes, pursued lips and body language the weight of the existence of the millions who live just to survive in the city of dreams is commendable.

Alia Bhatt is her usual self – nothing new, nothing different. In fact with Ranvir Singh raising the game to a different level, Alia Bhatt in contrast feels a little drab and uni-dimensional. In a very different role than what we have seen her before, she looks, feels, acts no different from what we have already seen her do. I have often heard her co-actors stating that “Alia is a natural, she doesn’t have to try too hard. She effortlessly delivers any scene”. Maybe that’s the problem. She doesn’t try too hard getting to the heart of a character and so misses delivering a nuanced performance. She is  not bad in the film, but not great either. Strictly ok.

Overall, Gully Boy is a film for everyone. Unlike Zoya’s previous ventures which were dubbed as “classy servings for multiplex audience”, this one promises to engage everyone! This year has started off with a  slew of good films I admit, make the most of this unexpected sunshine from Bollywood and go watch this movie. It will lift your spirits!

4.5 / 5.0

Movie Review - Ek Ladki ko dekha to aisa laga

Yesterday we saw the just released "Ek Ladki ko dekha to aisa laga" (ELKDTAL) - a love story with a never-seen-before-in-Bollywood twist.
Lets analyze the movie -

STORY AND SCREENPLAY

At the heart of it, it is a simple story which is quite simply narrated. Yes the core plot is unconventional, but the writer has smartly built the overall narrative around it in a very conventional bollywood style. In fact, had it not been for a bold core theme, the movie would be yet another light frothy rom-com with nothing much to talk about.

Its a pity that the promos of the film pretty much disclose the core plot of the love story because in the absence of that big reveal, the audience pretty much goes through the first half of the film knowing what the story is building up to and that makes the first half of the film a little tedious honestly. The movie truly begins post intermission, and with that the screenplay takes off at a different level altogether. Beautifully etched together and tightly woven between plots and sub plots the movie flows quite seamlessly.
The scenes that deal with the backstory have been beautifully written and depicted.
The other highlight of the screenplay is that it has etched all the supporting casts rather well - they come together as a delightful ensemble and pretty much keep the movie afloat in first half, when pretty much nothing consequently is happening otherwise.

On Screen play i would give the movie a score of 3 out of 5.


PERFORMANCES
I love films where supporting cast has well defined characters and an opportunity to lend their flavour to the film - Dum Laga ke Haisha, Badhai Ho, Andhadhun.... ELKDTAL (acronym for the movie i am reviewing!!) joins this illustrious bunch in this regard.

Anil Kapoor, Rajkumar Rao, Juhi Chawla, Seema Pahwa, Brijendra Kala are all brilliant as always!
Even Abhishek Duhan (i dont think i have seen him in a film before) was a perfect casting as the brother and did not take an off step from his character. Regina Cassandra was another perfect cast - in a very short role she was delightful. She shares all her scenes with Sonam Kapoor and in each scene, one can safely say, she outshines Sonam Kapoor.

Sonam as the principal character, unfortunately, is flat and uni-dimensional.
She does her role ok, but misses the opportunity such a powerful role offers to lift the film overall.

One must acknowledge that it is a daring role to perform, one that many mainstream actors or actresses may not have the guts to take on. On that count i give her credit. Of the current lot of actresses she has the strongest track record of performing in female-centric films (Neerja, Aisha, Khoobsurat...)

Overall on Performances i would go for 3.5 out of 5.
To support cast a strong 4 but to Sonam's weak performance pulling down the overall score.

TECHNICAL ASPECTS
A story based in a small town becomes especially challenging as one has to create the "mahaul" of that small town. This has been quite ably done by the team - the houses, gallis, terraces and the overall look and feel of the film is bang on and refreshing!
Music is good and in the right amounts - no unexpected disruptive songs.
Overall a good effort which raises the movie. To the technical team i give 4 out of 5.

Overall - ELKDTAL has a lot of things that work for it and a few critical things that don't. But what makes it a "must see" is the daring bold subject that it deals with. Yes the movie does give in the bollywood cliches and yes it does serve a bitter pill quoted in saccharine-sweet bollywood formula but that pragmatism is essential for a commercial film in a country where masses are yet to mature to deal with such subjects with sensitivity. Yes, this film is a test to our sensibilities, the grave scene where the principal character reveals her "sach" to another character, evoked laughter in the hall!
It is that laughter that makes it essential for each and every one of us to take the first step in the direction of knowledge - watch "Ek Ladki ko dekha to aisa laga".
Overall - 3.5 stars!!