A few years ago, one fine morning near our house, we saw a zippy dog with droopy ears, bubbling eyes and thick and long hair in captivating shades of gold and brown. She had the beauty of a lioness and was as fierce. We noticed her again in the following days. After a few days, she seemed to be tired, presumably due to hunger. My better half gave her food; the dog gulped it.
Then the dog rushed into our house and within no time she became the darling of our home. We named her ‘Kunicky’ which means dancing and jumping incessantly in Malayalam. Soon Kunicky took control of the house. She would act like a traffic police and clear the road whenever I tried to park my car inside the house. She also had this strange passion of bathing in our pond daily. She would gently dip her entire body in the water a couple of times—just as poojaris do before entering the sanctum sanctorum, compelling anybody to believe that she is definitely a holy person reborn.
Days rolled by and our affinity grew stronger and deeper with the passage of time. In the meantime, she gave birth to two pups, resembling the tweedledum–tweedledee pair. They also started living with us. Kunicky had the habit of visiting our ancestral house nearby where our parents are settled. During her visits she always received a mini treat—a sumptuous one—from my mother who also loved her very much.
She never had any serious ailment throughout these years. But last week, perhaps for the first time, she was showing signs of restlessness. The next day during the dying hours of the night, I noticed some strange behaviour. She began to mop and mow running here and there, frequently visiting her kids and also yowling in a feeble voice. The situation gradually changed from bad to worse. Placing her in my lap I tried to gently massage her, console her and make her active. But she remained motionless and stared at me with her ghoulish eyes. She breathed her last, plunging us into deep, deep shock.
Those famous words of Nehru reverberated in my ears: “The light has gone out of our lives and there is darkness everywhere. I do not know what to tell you and how to say it”. Kunicky is physically dead. I fully realise this stark reality but I am sure she will live in our hearts forever. We feel her presence in “thoonilum, thurumpilum” like Bhaktha Prahladan’s proclamation about the omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient Vishnu.
B Venugopal
Email: venugopalptas@yahoo.in