Friday, November 21, 2008

Anu and Decorum

And someone said to me, Anu you're a published author, you have to act with some decorum.

Oh help. I'm enjoying being ME again and not that Tara character who completely took over my sunshine personality. One of my readers emailed me saying how much she empathized with me...with my speech problems. I'm glad I was able to portray Tara's tongue-tie realistically, but I personally have a very nimble tongue.

This morning I woke up bubbling with laughter. I was soooooo high. No, I don't do drugs. No, I don't drink alcohol (my niece can tell you of the hilarious time everyone had when I took a few sips of champagne some Thanksgivings ago). Oh, but I do, do, do binge on chocolates. Though today's high is not sugar or cocoa induced. It's just pure me.

Built for fun.

A priceless trait that we three sisters possess is this ability to laugh. For a while -- after Sirocco died -- I thought I had lost it. It's two years now and I'm finally coming out of the sorrow I sank into. I had to keep telling myself, Anu you have another son that you have to care of. But in that dark period in 2006, there were many times when I felt I had no right to live. You have to stop blaming yourself, everyone said. Sirocco could have picked up the corn cob from anywhere. But I knew, oh well I knew, that I have now and then given him corn cobs. He enjoyed playing with them. An autopsy showed a piece of corn cob – smaller than a bottle cork – stuck in his intestine. Will I ever forget my boy stretched out on the vet’s table? Oh I was there, watching the scalpel split open his belly.

How could I live?

I thought of many ways to die.

Sirocco was a chocolate lab. Big, beautiful. Majestic. And I lay my head on his body that had now turned to rock. Sirocco was gone. When he threw up that day, I thought nothing of it. Like all labs, he gobbles up food and then throws up. He’d be fine. The feeling that he would be fine strengthened when my neighbor said that his dog throws up all the time. Nothing to worry. I decided to take Sirocco to the vet the next morning. Just to be sure. But the next morning Sirocco was dead. He had gone to the vet only the week before, for his shots and his annual check-up. And there was nothing wrong with him. Then, how?

No, I must not invite such thoughts again. For then I'll start running away from this house. As if it were the house's fault. And i'll start staring at the kitchen tiles and wonder why I had made such a fuss about the width of the grout line. Why had I not allowed the tile-setter to stay with the original 3/8 inch? As if it had anything to do with the grout thickness. No, I must not head in that direction for I'll surely go mad again.

3 comments:

Rima Kaur said...

i had two beautiful labradors, robo and sandra. robo was a light fawn coloured guy with a fiesty nature. he was stolen from our very home a couple of years before. after the day he left to never return, i had many sleepless nights. once at night, after i had finally managed to doze off, i woke up with a start. i realised that robo wasnt around me and ventured out into the darkness to find him. only after coming to my senses did i would never find him.

sandra was jet black. a demure and chubby female. she was more attached to me because of her homely personality. she would snuggle underneath the bedcovers with me in winters, even though she has a perfect, warm bed of her own. one cold winter morning, i was lying on my bed. in a couple of minutes, my mother was to wake me up to tell me to get ready for school. i heard the sound of water in the bathroom and a light switched on in the hall. this wasnt usual. i also saw a hazy silhouette of my mother holding a bucket and entering the bathroom. she was crying. i knew the worst had happened. sandra had been paralysed neck down since the past one week due to some horrible infection. she had started having epileptic fits many times during the day. she would howl with pain and helplessness, and i would stand there watching her with horror, tears clouding my eyes. the treatment was painful.

that day, the entire school knew i had lost sandra forever.

Anu Jayanth said...

That must have been horrific, Rima, not ever knowing what became of Robo. And I can truly truly understand what you went through, over Sandra too. After Sirocco, I'm not sure if I can open my arms to another dog...I don't know...I just don't know. But I will write someday about another dog, and how obsessive I grew over this dog (in a lab shelter here) because he looked so much like Sirocco.

Anonymous said...

Quite amazing, these bonds we form with our dogs. Ann Patchett, the writer (author of 'Bel Canto' and other books)has this to say about her own relationship with her Rose: http://www.annpatchett.com/rosie.html