TANGO CHARLIE

Tuesday 13^th April 8.00am

Where is Charlie? I’ve looked for Charlie everywhere and just can’t find him. I know one of you’ve played the mischief. You better own up now or I am leaving the classroom and will not be back until I get Charlie back.

We were all stunned as we saw Brother Eric storm out of the room.

Monday 5^th April- Friday 9^th April

Brother Eric was the class teacher for X-C. He had just joined a week ago from another school outside Delhi. He was just 20 years old and the students in the class were anywhere between 15-17 years old, most of them Richie Richs but no better than urchins who would make the life of teachers miserable.  The first day in school he was treated with a bit of respect for his white flowing robe, a bit of disdain as he was probably the first Desi Indian Brother, as they called the missionaries in a school which had only seen fair skinned Irish Brothers, and a sense of being a nice prey seeing his small stature, curly hair and frail looks.
In the first week Brother Eric treated the students as younger brothers and impressed everyone with his hard work and dedication. The students were awestruck by his energy levels and freshness of approach. No one had taken so much pain for them; no one made History seemingly interesting and Math seem doable. Eric had cast his spell more so when he came out in his shorts and football boots to practice with the class team. The boys just couldn’t hide their joy and felt a saviour was here just for them.  With the arrival of the Knight in White Armour, The Dark Ages seemed a thing of the past.

But boys will be boys…slowly they got into their strides and started living in their own merry way…creating ruckus in the class, not doing the homework and much more. Brother Eric kept on counseling the boys to correct themselves….he was always like the elder brother telling the children what not to do…no beating, no punishments.
On Friday the 9^th of April, things changed. Eric gave the boys homework and said,

Make sure you do the last year’s ICSE Test Paper this weekend and hand it over to me on Monday. I want no excuses and I am warning you all that those who fail to do the work, Brother Charlie will get angry…very angry.

Monday 12^th April 7.30am

We were standing in the school ground for the morning assembly. While the Headmaster was saying the prayers and thoughts of the day, most students in X-C were in an animated conversation of their own ranging from whisper to loud talking.

Yeh Charlie kaun hai rey? Never heard about this character and why should he get angry? Chal chod, Eric Bhai aaise hi dara raha hai….kuchh nahin hoga. So many teachers have come and gone, we never did our homework and what homework man…one full board question paper! If I could solve it now, why will I need to sit in his class from tomorrow? 

After the assembly at 7.45 am, the boys entered the classroom. Brother Eric was seated on the desk near the blackboard nodding his head and shaking his legs…looked quite funny.

Ok boys settle down and before we start our reading of ‘Julius Caesar’ please put your homework test sheets on the floor there in front.

Strangely that day a lot of the boys had done the work and piled the answer sheets in one corner. About 10 of us remained seated.

All those who have not done the homework please step forward.

I walked up as did the others. This was not new to us. So many times we had not done our homework, made some excuse or the other or at best were asked to stand outside the classroom for that one period…two hoots…who wants to be in the gas chambers anyway.

I don’t want to know why you have not done the work. It doesn’t matter. I warned you Charlie will be very angry and now you’ve had it.

He stood up and from behind the desk took out a fine cane in one swift move like a trained swordsman with his epee. He curved it in front of all of us to see how flexible it was and smiled wickedly.

Charlie will now punish you and after this day whenever you make such mistakes, Charlie will set you right. I tried being nice to you all but you wouldn’t listen. So from now I will be good to those who are good and Charlie will take care of the rest.

And then it rained behind our backs…zick zack zick zack…4 tight whips for each of us. The cane touched our bottoms and bent neatly without breaking. Felt an intense burning sensation there and a sense of shame for getting caned in front of all was ignominy.

Now go and sit down.

As I sat down, I immediately stood up. The pain increased manifold as I tried sitting. It was burning hard.

Sit down or I will whack you again.

I closed my eyes; made sure I held back my tears and somehow sat down. The whole day I did not eat anything, I hardly heard anyone speaking including the teachers. Just one thought came repeatedly…Badla..revenge…chordunga nahi saale ko!

Tuesday 13^th April 10am

Sir, please come back to the class. We are begging you to come back.

A delegation of classmates had gone to Bro. Eric’s room to plead.

No. I have nothing against anybody but I want my Charlie back. I don’t even want to know who did it and how he did it. I know one of the boys has only done it but I will forgive him, all I want is my Charlie back. The moment you bring Charlie to me, I will go back to the class and start afresh forgetting this chapter.

The boys left disheartened. They came back to the class and came straight to me.

Uday, please give back the cane or else we will all suffer. We’ve never had such a good teacher in our lives and if he goes we will again be saddled with another of the nincompoops. Please Bhai, de de na.

Hey why me? I’ve long been branded as someone who takes off a pen here, a bottle of coke there…but I was in no mood to accept that I had whacked Charlie for whacking me yesterday.

Get lost and stop bothering me.

Tuesday 13^th April 6am

I cycled down from Lodhi Road to Ashoka Place telling Mom that I had an early morning football practice. Having parked my cycle outside near the Church, instead of the regular school parking bay, I walked into the school. It was very early even for the staff to arrive and start the cleaning and gardening activities. Quickly walked up the stairs of the Middle School Building and took out my skeleton key. Took a quick look around and turned the key…click click…it worked. Quietly I went in the hall, slid the main door back again as I ran up the stairs to the third floor where X-C was. It was all quiet and lonely but my heart was beating fast. I could hear it loud and clear as I put the key into the lock again and magic happened again…the classroom door opened. Entered and pushed the door back…click…it got locked on its own again. Never mind, I have the master key.

Now just the wooden almirah remained where the brutal Nazi Charlie lay. My strides became more confident and I walked to the last door that remained between me and my revenge. Just then I heard some footsteps outside.

Oh no…who can it be now? Is my game over? If I am caught like this then it will not be only Charlie but Dad, Mom and police who will batter me to death.

God is great…they always tell you and so He was. I saw a small opening between the almirah and the wall and I somehow quickly managed to squeeze in behind it as the classroom door opened and in walked Brother Eric….

The person you want to see last is the one who faces you the first…what fate…kaput! What’s he doing here so early?  He’s not even dressed in his white robe. Phew!

I had not anticipated this. Eric walked in, took a piece of chalk and started writing some equations on the blackboard, something I never could understand. He kept on writing till he wrote on every inch of the blackboard. Here was a teacher who was getting ready for the first class even before the school had started so that not a moment was wasted!

I was getting fidgety for I had to be out of here quickly and be standing in the assembly for a perfect alibi or else if I remained behind the almirah when all the children entered, death was but certain. As Eric took one last look on the board, dusted his hands and started walking back.

I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” Dad had told me to count from ten to zero whenever I would get tensed and worried about anything and it always worked…it was one of the millions of things he taught me since childhood but most of it fell on my deaf ears.

I slowly came out of my hiding and opened the almirah and there it lay like a Sword of Honour above all the answer sheets. I took it in my hands and felt blood rushing to my head…I should break it up into pieces so that it is never able to stand straight again, never able to beat any student ever…Death Death Death roared the Romans as I stood in the arena, a victor ready for the last lunge.

Tuesday 13^th April 7.30am

Hi Uday! How are you man? I am sad at what happened yesterday…he shouldn’t have done it. It is inhuman to cane someone so badly. He talks about atrocities on Jews during World War II and here he himself is perpetrating similar things…trying to create a ghetto out of our class. Very sad man, our school was never like this…

Sandeep was being nice to me. I kept a straight face neither saying yes nor no, just kept looking sad and serious. Sandeep went behind and stood in the queue as we all started chanting, Our Father in Heaven…

Tuesday 13^th April 10.30am

Come on Uday. Brother Eric says he will forgive the act. We are all suffering because of you, pleaded Sanjiv, the Prefect and many more so called good boys of the class.

I don’t have it. Don’t bother me. I was standing with you since morning then how could I have done anything. I left school together in the same bus as Ajay…ask him and I was at the assembly with you all. Stop bothering me. I am trying to finish the next test paper before I get beaten again.

Tuesday 13^th April 12 noon

No teacher was stepping into the class as they had heard about Brother Eric. Each of them, Mr. Kuriakose, Mr. Jose, Mrs. Pallamatam…veni vici vedi…they came, they saw and they conquered…or whatever you may make of it. The 40 students of X-C were the vanquished forces lying low. There was surprisingly no noise in the classroom even though there was no teacher. It was indeed a strange day.

The look on everyone’s face was too much for me to bear. So I walked out of the room and after a while stepped right back but this time not alone…

Here take this thing to him and say we’ve found him. He can now come back and start the classes.

Whoa!! You should have been there to hear the joy and laughter on every child’s face.

Kaise kiya Boss….batao batao…

Just shut up and go from here. Don’t bother me. Just tell him that his bloody Charlie is back from grave.

Tuesday 13^th April 7.10am

I did not break Charlie even though I had the opportunity and the reason to do it. I just took him and put him where he belonged, a big red dustbin with a cover outside the classroom and then walked out of the main gate closing all doors as I had opened.

Tuesday 13^th April 12.15 pm

Brother Eric walked into the classroom, opened up the literature text and starts reading aloud as the students started underlining the pages…

Friends Romans Countrymen

Lend me your ears, I come to bury Charlie

And not to praise him…

Eric never used Charlie again. I never gave him a chance to use it either for I realized it was time for me to turn a new leaf. My father had gone out of his way to put me in a good school and it was time for me to start my affair with books. I started enjoying classes with Eric and would never fail to do my homework. Slowly my grades started improving and I felt for the first time the desire to rush to school in the mornings.

Two people died that day- Uday of Old and Charlie of New. Both were laid to rest in peace forever.

Two people came alive that day- Uday, The Reformed and Eric, The Teacher.

And so began a long journey together, first as student and teacher and then as friends forever.

UNEXPECTED VISITORS

I always enjoyed reading Gerald Durrell and James Herriot. Their books made such interesting read and helped me live through so many idle afternoons in my days of youth. Neither am I an animal rights activist or a PETA fan or a SPCA member nor do I carry around packets of Marie biscuits to feed my canine brothers and sisters living in the neighbourhood . I just loved the way these two writers brought all those creatures great and small so close to us .They made them one of us, bringing out all their little emotions and instincts which we are so familiar with .Often smitten by the snide remarks of many a relative, a book titled Birds, Beasts and Relatives or My Family and Other Animals had a particular personal appeal and made extremely desirable reads in my growing up days. And, of course, who can re-create the bright and beautiful, wise and wonderful world of the unforgettable vet peppered with his brilliant wit and sprinkled with dollops of humour.

These days, too, I am once again at peace enjoying the company of my lesser known guests who call on me in my apartment on the 17^th floor of a typical multi-storied structure in a Mumbai suburb. They are probably visitors you least expect amongst these blocks of concrete but they do come and give me company and I am actually growing quite fond of them.

The regulars of course are those belonging to the family of Columbidae but I will come to them later. Those who come every day or rather are permanent residents do not fall in the category of revered ‘guests’.

Among the less frequent ones is one Mr. Raven. He is truly ‘as black as a…….’; there’s no mistake about his identity. My 81 year old mother hates him the most especially when he is sitting at the window cawing with all his lung power. The reason being, his cawing forebodes ill-luck. Remember Julius Caesar:

“And in their steads do ravens, crows, and kites,

Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us,

As we were sickly prey.” 

Then we have Mr. and Mrs. Mynah. They come off and on, not every day. I prefer to see them as a couple because once again seeing only one may bring sorrow…You have to be very alert. All the birds sound different and you need to have sharp ears to catch who is at the window. That’s how I never miss Mr. and Mrs. Parrot (actually rose-ringed parakeets, green bodied and red beaked). They come very often but do not like to stay for long. Sometimes they bring their friends along and it is a treat to see them all sitting in a row. Their home is not far away, two huge trees in the next compound. As I water my plants every morning, I see a flight of them leaving their homes and again as the sun is setting they make their way back.

This little bird world is often disturbed by the mighty King Kite. I think he has his throne perched on our rooftop and the day the king decides to swoop down for a kill, there is mayhem all around. The big ones, the little ones, the fat ones and lazy ones are all flying hither and thither ,all trying to be out of his range, as he first soars, then circles the Goregaon sky and finally swoops down on the catch. I watch till peace returns and the king has settled down with his prey, may be a big one or just a fledgling. However, the hunter always alerts his prey with a shrill call before swooping down- the shrill piercing cry of the kite is truly spine chilling.

The tailor-bird, my little Tuntuni, loves to come and swing on the branches of my Bougainvillaea. I love to hear her sing…but those ‘terrorists’ never allow us each other’s company for long.

One day I think I saw a sparrow…but it was for such a fleeting moment that I am not too sure. The urbanization and concretization that we chose for ourselves have made the sparrows an endangered species today. It was not too long ago, when we were kids, we did see so many of them everywhere, even nesting inside our homes. But now they are gone…  ‘gone to graveyards, everyone’ .Do you realize that our children are growing up in these cities seeing skyscrapers cropping up every other day but not the house sparrows collecting twigs and straw to build their nests?

And would you like to know a little more about my other visitors? There were the Squirrel Twins who even made a home just above my living room window. The first time I spotted them, there were three of them- Mother and the Twins. The Mother must have been on the lookout for a safe place to give birth. Soon the mother left and the twins could be seen coming out of their hideout, playing hide- and- seek among my potted plants, nibbling on the leaves, gnawing at the thin branches. Finally, I could see only one of them .When the house was all quiet, especially in the mornings and afternoons, this young fellow would come out his den, frolic around, eat my plants, nibble at the pods, and then, not satisfied with one window-sill garden, would move on to the next window. He had become so bold that even when I went and stood at the window he would continue with his nibbling and chewing. Once, he even made his way through an open window into my guest room! Imagine a squirrel inside a house- I had never seen one before! In my childhood I had seen squirrels living only on trees and every time you approached them they would vanish. I guess, when we humans encroach on their homes, they will enter our houses. Once inside the room, he completely panicked. He was scampering here and there, on the television, jumping from it, falling into the waste-paper basket, coming out of it, running up the book-shelf. All lost, confused, confounded. I left the window wide open for him, shut the door and left the room. I let him find his way out.

Now let me turn to the little rogues of the Columbidae family who have completely terrorized my life. I think they have enrolled with the IS. Each one is a little Kalashnikov- they don’t have to carry one.  I admit that these stocky and stout birds do not look like terrorists nor do they lead the lives of terrorists. But they are completely capable of turning your world upside down, creating havoc and ravaging your peaceful existence. In an earlier piece on the same blog, my daughter was charmed by their loves and quarrels but I, for one, am not at all impressed with them. With my little knowledge of the world of flora and fauna, I thought doves and pigeons belonged to the same family and so the pigeons, like their sisters, the doves, would be harbingers of peace. I have been proven completely wrong- they are such a menace. Sadly, unlike the other guests, they do not visit for a short while, they are there always- day and night. In my house you will be woken up in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning to a sudden loud thud. With an octogenarian living with you, who is also osteoporotic and a cerebral stroke survivor, that is probably the last sound you wish to hear. As you rush to her bed and find her sleeping peacefully, the thudding grows into pounding. Remember Daphne du Maurier ’s  The Birds, in which the birds attack the humans, made popular by Hitchcock’s classic thriller? Yes, it’s the pigeons banging against my bathroom window. The glass panes need to be cleaned twice a week; they completely defy ‘Swachh Bharat’ and follow their own dictum of “Gandgi Machao’. They have digested more plants and saplings from my window gardens than I have managed to save. With constant cooing and insatiable lovemaking they can completely erase the word peace from your life. If that is not enough, they refuse to build nests and instead lay eggs inside my flower pots. Last, but not the least, they stroll into my house and once inside they are so perplexed that, even if the window is completely opened up, they do not know how to get out. The fans have to be switched off, before there is bloodbath, doors closed and these fatsoes have to be literally shoved out of the windows. By then the whole room is in absolute mess.  

Even then, neither do I want to be caged in behind bird-proof nets nor do I wish to have an air-conditioned existence. So, for the company of a few good guests I have to learn to be tolerant.

DS

Jab We Met

You have to help me, pleaded Rocky.

What can I do? I don’t even know her.

Arrey she is a Bong and I need you to speak to her casually and introduce me. That’s all.

I am posted at HO under a boss who keeps a hawk’s eye on my movements. I can’t leave my workstation or go to your office for this….it is impossible. And I am sure she can speak in English and definitely Hindi as well, so why don’t you do it yourself?

Woh hi toh problem hai….how do I start the conversation. Ek baar aaja dost. You come over during lunch break and start talking to her and then I will join you. After that you can leave. I’ll manage the rest. Bas itna sa kaam dost ke liye nahin kar sakta?

Rocky was a name given to Sanjay by us friends because of his tall, fair and slim frame and a faint resemblance to Sanjay Dutt in the late eighties in his launch movie of the same name. Sanjay had just joined an insurance company as a direct recruit officer with a good salary, designation and perks. Sometimes you saw him with a French beard and other times without it. Everyday he would go to the office with a brief case in his hand, travelling by state transport buses. Everything was going good for him and all he needed was a girlfriend to complete his life’s little dreams. He had been trying to befriend many a girl in the bus while travelling to office. Once, he even gave his business card to one of them to impress. He was staying with a couple of his friends at Salt Lake, Kolkata. Every evening they would get together over dinner discussing their day at work, people they met, especially girls they encountered….anything spicy would liven up the talks as Durga Bhai, their Man Friday cooked some nice simple dishes and garma garam chapatis with a coating of desi ghee.

Kaisi hai woh?

Acchi hai…bahut acchi…and she is damn good at work. My Divisional Manager was praising her a lot.

Tujhe pasand hai?

Yes, very much, why else will I ask for your help.

Ok then I will come sharp at 1.15pm and leave by 1.45pm. if I am not back on my seat by 2, tere chakkar mein shahid main ho jaaunga (will become a martyr for your cause).

Next afternoon, our Bir Bangali reached Poddar Court at 12.45 pm…much before time. Surely the excitement got the better of him….the idea of match making and being a hero for his friend was just too much for him to stay back late in office. With a heart that was beating aloud and a fake smile on his face, he walked into the office.

Hi Rocky. Kahan hai woh?

Rocky was flummoxed…he turned completely red as he looked up to see his friend there early and making his intentions known to all around…and you know well about the famous Bengali office ka adda and the gossip that goes on there. How can he behave like this…galti kar di shayad isko bula ke. Shhhh….as he put his pen over his lips and motioned to his left with his index finger.

Oh no…there was, in the desk next to Rocky, a girl sitting in a cotton saree, with her head down, trying to concentrate on the pile of files in front.

Rocky mustered up all the courage that he could and told the girl in the nearby desk…he’s my friend from Head Office, Marine Technical Department. He said it as if I was working in some great place like the Prime Minister’s Office but possibly for people in the Divisional Offices, HO must have had the aura quite alike.

And then the two bongs introduced themselves which is quite normal….what is your name, where are you from…so you are not from Calcutta…yes I am from the outskirts of Calcutta…ok I am from Delhi… and the conversation kept on going till Rocky nudged his friend.

You know Sonjoy, na? He is brilliant. He was the topper of our batch…he knows all the tariffs by heart. If you need any help in technical whether in underwriting or in claims, he is the person you need to ask. He will be more than happy to help you. He is too good. We refer all technical matters to him.

I could see Rocky blushing as he heard all the praises in his honour. Ab toh chakkar chal gaya mera…he thought and looking at his watch he told his friend it was already 1.30pm. It should have been a signal enough for the Bong friend to ‘cut lay’ or bugger off from the scene and let Rocky now take over.

Hey, good news! Today my boss has gone to Bombay for a meeting so I am in no hurry to go back. What about your lunch, he asked the lady.

I usually go down to the canteen on the ground floor for lunch, said the damsel, who hardly looked in distress, as she saw two young suitors at play.

Good, then let us all go down there and eat something…I am starved.

Rocky glared at his friend and reluctantly agreed to join.

All three went down and had some quick bite and finished off with a cup of gorom gorom cha. All this while at the cafeteria it was the two bongs talking non-stop in Bengali of course. Rocky understood Bangla but kept nodding his head once in a while or smiling at the discussions. He kept looking at the watch and finally the time came to say good bye to the Devil from Head Office. Instead of just saying bye, I asked the girl...

Hey, what are you doing this Saturday?

Nothing in particular.

I have some passes for Super Soccer where a Brazilian Team is playing an Indian Team at Salt Lake Stadium. My cousin is at Tata Steel and he got me the VIP passes. Why don’t you join us? It will be fun.

Ok, I’ll come. She said immediately.

Great, then see you on Saturday. Sonjoy will give you our address and the place we will meet before going to the stadium.

That evening in the Salt Lake house, 7 friends got together to know what had happened. Rocky looked pale, the bong looked elated.

Saale, I asked you to just be around for some time and then go off. You just went on and on and on.

What could I do? I just started enjoying talking to her and then couldn’t stop myself.

One of the others remarked, “Isne toh out swinger maar diya (he has bowled an out swinger) and Rocky you are completely bowled out.

Finally the Big Day came. Our man had a good proper bath that morning, wore his best clothes and waited eagerly for the lady to come…an hour before time.

And she came….

We went to the Yuva Bharti Kridangan to witness the match.

We sat next to each other.

The others sat next to us.

I kept talking in excitement trying to show off my knowledge of football also telling her about my own exploits on the football pitch. The people playing in Indian colours were so off colour that it became a pathetic show…Boys from Brasil won handsomely…what else did you expect.

For those who have not seen the football frenzy in Calcutta, you have not seen anything. There are people and people and more people. So after the match, we could not find public transport and walked back to AB Block Salt Lake. The two of us together in front, the others behind us….giggling merrily. One of them Debasis had the audacity to come ahead and say she is taller than you. I quickly straightened my back and showed him there were a couple of inches between us.

So as the serial How I Met Your Mother goes on air again shortly, I thought it was time to tell my daughter how I met her mother. It was around 27 years ago…now in the next 2 weeks we will be celebrating our 26^th anniversary and the match continues since we took the vows…

“I take you to be my wife.

I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.

I will _ _, honour you all the days of my life.”

And for the two words missing in between, I’ve never been able to say nor write.

In this match of life, we often fight hard, hurt each other at times but always play together as a team. Rocky settled down some time later with a wife chosen by his parents and now has kids and is doing extremely well. And so are my other Salt Lake buddies.

Finally here is the proof of When and  Where We Met.

Crime & Punishment

It was a cold winter morning and I had been sleeping on a woollen rug. I had not been keeping well for quite some time and the doctor had said my ailment was beyond cure. The medicines had made me drowsy, and over past few months, I had become irritable. The old woman who took care of me all my life saw that I had moved away from the rug below and had shifted to the cold floor. She quietly came from behind making sure my slumber was not disturbed, bent down and tried shifting me back onto the rug, just the way a mother would do for her baby. A failing body that was anyway undergoing unbearable pain and compounded to it was my basic wild instinct that it must be someone bad trying to sneak in from behind. Without opening my eyes and checking with my senses, in a fit of extreme irritation, I just turned my head, bared my fangs grrrrr….and snapped……

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh…..my eyes fell on the old woman as she wailed….she was bleeding profusely as I saw her lower lip had come off and was lying on the floor…..O God, what have I done? Quietly I bent down and slipped below the cot lying in the room as I heard her cry.

What have I done? Bitten the woman who was more than a mother to me. What have I done to the woman who brought me up for the last 10 years since I came from a kennel in Mussourie. I was just a couple of months when I came into this home. Nicknamed Ike, after the illustrious US General and President Eisenhower, I was the son of Argus who was a legend in the canine world. With a proud parentage I was a handsome Doberman who was destined for even greater heights. Won many a laurels in the competitions organized by the Kennel Club of Kolkata, I was a real champ in my heydays. I was never chained in the house and would roam around free. I was lucky to come into a house with such huge lawns all around which allowed me space to run and enjoy freedom. In all these years it was this mother in a white saree who would take care of every meal right from early morning till I went to sleep. If it was any medicine to be given, it was she who never missed doing it at the right time. From shampooing my coat to clipping my nails, she never missed anything.

I too loved her very much. Whenever she would go out, even for a little while, I would start chewing her rubber slippers or play around the house with her saree. Tore so many of her sarees in what appeared to others was my playfulness but in actual fact was my fear of losing her...just couldn’t live a moment without her by my side. And when she returned, I would jump in joy, licking her and shaking my little tail till she pushed me away. It was a strange relationship we had, for although my official master was her son, but for me, my total loyalty, my complete love was just for her alone. She was my universe, my master…she was everything to me, she meant everything to me. She was a mother to me.

And what had I done today…what a shame! I had given her such pain…bitten her so bad that she looked so sad and pale? How could I have done such a thing? I just quietly lay there without moving an inch as I saw the servant calling up her son. The son came in after an hour or so. All this while I just put my head between my front paws and lay still with eyes full of remorse. My master quickly took the old lady somewhere, must have been a hospital.

All day long I just stayed unmoved below the cot. I touched not a drop of water, not a morsel of food did I taste the whole day. So many people had warned the woman that she should not trust a Doberman and stay alone. They said no matter how domesticated this breed gets, its wild and aggressive instinct never dies. They told her of tales of how some others of my breed had turned ferocious and harmed their masters. They would always tell her that I needed to be kept under leash and lock. But she never listened to anyone. She trusted me and I loved her…and yet how badly had I let her down. Why did I not look to see who it was behind me?

That night the son returned from the hospital. I felt like walking up and asking him, “how is my mother…will she get well soon…what do the doctors say about her recovery….when will she come home…” So many questions kept coming to my mind but did not have the bodily strength nor the courage to walk out of my shameful den. My master just kept sitting there speechless and motionless. He never even gave me a glance. Hungry, sick and sad, my eyes closed as I went into a deep slumber.

I slept and slept and slept, never to wake up again. The old lady returned home but needed a long time to recover. I was laid to rest in the garden behind the house where a deep pit was dug. My master and his mother sobbed as my body was carried and placed inside the pit. They put mud over my body till I was fully covered... it was a brown coat over my shiny black coat today. They planted a sapling near the place and watered it daily. In some time lovely flowers bloomed. The old lady would not let anyone pluck the flowers from my shrub. I think she had forgiven me like all mothers do….but I still can’t forgive myself for having harmed such a soul. I don’t know if there is a heaven and hell for us dogs, no matter what our pedigree is, but surely if there is a place below hell, it must be for ungrateful souls like me.

Then one day a  marble tombstone was placed at the very place I had been buried.

Here lies Ike,

Here lies one of us.

Ivan Von Feinberg

1989-1999

It seems today my mother and her family have truly forgiven me and now I can truly RIP.

SS