An intruder comes knocking at the door one morning and his irresistible charm and loyalty makes the author’s heart melt.
Morning Meanderings is a musings column by Dr Santosh Bakaya. Enjoy her jottings with a hot cup of tea. 🙂
It was not yet time for my morning walk, as the night was still spread outside and the trees seemed to be talking to it in whispers, opening out their leafy hearts to it. The trees whispered and the night pricked its ears to their rustling.
Suddenly I heard some whimpering outside, and opened the door a bit to find what was up. It was a tiny pup standing on the threshold. The moment he saw me, he started scratching at the door with his tiny paws.
Was he hungry, was he lost? I hastened into the kitchen, heated a bowl of milk, opened the door, and put it before him. In no time, he slurped it up, and looked beseechingly at me. I heated some more milk, and poured it in his bowl, in no time, he finished that too.
The famous pizza tagline popped up in my mind – ‘hungry kya’? I added some bread slices with some more milk. First he looked apprehensively at it, then looked down at it with the little canine contempt a small pup could muster, peered a little more, and then munched on with the appetite of a famished one. With a satiated sigh, he sat down on the doormat outside, blocking my way. But the moment I stepped out for my walk, he jumped up from the mat, started pecking and nipping my feet and then bounded down the few steps and accompanied me on my walk, every now and then stopping to look around with curiosity.
The pigeons, the mynas, the sparrows, the bulbuls and one solitary lapwing looked on as an ill-clad woman walked on with a pup in tow. Suddenly a couple of adult dogs and three pups came bounding towards me. My pup also bounded towards them, and something like a group hug followed. My pup had found his family.
They walked away, my pup, for which I had almost started hunting for names, following them with elastic poundings. I was heartbroken.
But, anyway, I walked on, picking up the broken pieces of my heart on the way. The labourers smiled at me, absolutely unfazed by my unkempt look, and one even offered me a cup of tea which he was preparing on a makeshift stove.
“Some other day,” I said, looking at the east, where the sun had once again become a painter.
Morning walk over, I was almost home, when I again heard tiny yelps behind me. Before I could react, the pup was again all over me, licking me, not stopping at all.
“Get up Chhotu, it is enough,” I said. (Chhotu was the first name that jumped to my feverishly excited mind and happy heart.)
And can you believe it, Chhotu obeyed!
Then something very eerie happened. My mobile phone rang.
“Chhotu bol raha hoon.” (This is Chhotu speaking) The phone almost fell from my hands.
Before I could recall, who this Chhotu could be, he added, “Kanchan sey baat karao.” (Give the phone to Kanchan)
“Oh,” I said, handing the phone to Kanchan, who had just entered the house. “Madam, bahar ek pilla betha hai.” (There is a pup outside)
“Don’t call it a pilla . His name is…well…..well… We will call him…”
”Raja? Dekho kaisey Raja ki tarah nakhrey kar raha hai,” (look, how he is behaving like a king), Kanchan chipped in with her suggestion.
Neither had I ever seen a king, nor did I have the least inkling as to how a king behaved, but I really liked what the pup was doing. He was looking straight at me, with canine love oozing out of his tiny eyes, imploring me to pick him up. I scooped up the tiny bundle in my arms, and he started licking and kissing me all over.
Immediately two hearts vibrated intimately, beating in a melodious euphony.
I had merely opened the gate to my house, but the little dear had gatecrashed straight into my heart, and I felt all fuzzy inside.
Love does that to you, you know.
We are editorially independent, not funded, supported or influenced by investors or agencies. We try to keep our content easily readable in an undisturbed interface, not swamped by advertisements and pop-ups. Our mission is to provide a platform you can call your own creative outlet and everyone from renowned authors and critics to budding bloggers, artists, teen writers and kids love to build their own space here and share with the world.
When readers like you contribute, big or small, it goes directly into funding our initiative. Your support helps us to keep striving towards making our content better. And yes, we need to build on this year after year. Support LnC-Silhouette with a little amount - and it only takes a minute. Thank you
Got a poem, story, musing or painting you would like to share with the world? Send your creative writings and expressions to email@example.com
Learning and Creativity publishes articles, stories, poems, reviews, and other literary works, artworks, photographs and other publishable material contributed by writers, artists and photographers as a friendly gesture. The opinions shared by the writers, artists and photographers are their personal opinion and does not reflect the opinion of Learning and Creativity emagazine. Images used in the posts (not including those from Learning and Creativity's own photo archives) have been procured from the contributors themselves, public forums, social networking sites, publicity releases, Morguefile free photo archives and Creative Commons. Please inform us if any of the images used here are copyrighted, we will pull those images down.