The small things in life

Like someone one said “Everyone will have atleast one story to write, and it will be their own story.” This is my story. A part of my life I spent and am still spending by observing and interacting with animals around me.Sharing here are a series of notes about a few animals which came into our life and sometimes filled us with deep emotions of joy, sorrow, regret and like.This series is dedicated to all those who love animals.. Please pardon my poor English as Iam new to writing in prose. 

1.JIMMY

I don’t know when in my life the association with animals began. As far as I remember, the first animal that I can recall is a squirrel on the mango tree of my ancestral home and me in my Father’s arms eating food. My father musically singing “Annarkanna, Annarkanna kaliyaadidaan varumo nee” – or something to that effect. I spent my childhood – till I was 7 or 8 – in my mother’s ancestral home. We had a neighbour’s dog there. His name was Jimmy. He would often come to our house and spend time there. Everyday when my father and me went to the school in the morning in his bicycle, Jimmy would run behind following us till a junction. Then I would say good bye and he would return back to his home. When I think of Jimmy, I still remember a day when he came to our house with a big Aluminium vessel stuck in his head. He had put his head in, for water or some food and got stuck. He had come all the way from there, blindly following, I don’t what senses, to reach our home. My mother still wonders how he even made it. My father immediately sprang into action and with a cutting player, cut off the metal form his neck, freeing him up. He was so relieved and happy. That is all that I remember of Jimmy. But later once my mother told me that Jimmy has passed away. It was not a natural death. It seems he was in a habit of chasing one of the neighbour’s chicken, and the irritated neighbour fed him some food mixed with poison. Thats how he died. 

2.BLACK BEAUTY/ BLACKY

I think I was in Fifth standard or so, when my dad brought home our first pet. She was a dark black cow, whom I immediately named as Black beauty (as I just loved that story,I read somewhere). I don’t remember any antics of Blacky. She was a good calf. One day, she was tied in a field near to our house for grazing. Somehow her rope got loosened and unknotted, and she began to roam among crops. The owner of the field was furious and whipped her. She hastily ran back home. But there runs a road that separates the grazing ground and home. While crossing it, a bus hit her and ran over her. My parents and many others went to the accident site (I was at school).They pulled her out from underneath the bus and brought her home. Her spinal cord was affected and she couldn’t move her back legs and her tail. Then began a long treatment period in the cowshed at the back of our house, which was aimed at bringing her mobility back. My father brought ayurvedic physicians and the place always smelt of kozhambu and thailams. My parents and physicians would treat her with ayurvedic ‘kizhis’ and all. And finally one day the the miracle happened. She walked, came to our front yard and cried an “mbaa” as thanks for my dad. Soon she was walking and grazing in our front yard. But the happiness didn’t last long. Her tail had lost its movement and when she grazed the crows began to peck on her tail. Soon it developed a wound and my mom used medicines and clothes to dress it. But the crows continued to attack her and finally the wound was too deep that her tail was in a danger of falling off any day. Finally with tears in his eyes, my father had to sell her (Rather give her away).                      

3.KAALI AND SHANKU

My father was so aghast at the fate of Blacky, that soon after he brought home another calf. She was also black but with a brownish tinge. She was, but a naughty calf and wouldn’t allow people to pet her. She would shake her horns threateningly and so we named her ‘ Kaali’ – the angry one. Kaali was always a bit restless, trying to break free of the ropes she was tied to, which she succeeded many a times and wrecked havoc in the neighbourhood. On many days, after coming back from school, I would be told to run on some direction looking for her, while my parents will be running in other directions. Once while my father was trying to untie her ropes from the pole, she restlessly shook her head near his face, scooping one of his eyeballs out. He had to be rushed to hospital and had stitches to keep it in. Thankfully, there was no damage to his vision. But his love for the cow persisted. In due time, she gave birth to a bull calf. We named him Shanku. That’s was when my mother’s misery began. There was no one available in the village to milk the cow. My mother was a full time working woman, and mind you, a college professor. Since there was no other option, the job of milking the cow fell upon her shoulders. Kaali was a very caring mother too who wished that her entire milk goes to her child. So every milking session was a tug – of – war between my mother and the cow mother. Finally  Shanku became a very fat and lazy bull, whose strength surpassed ours so much that we were not able to control him with ropes anymore. So we had to bid adieu to the duo, when my father found a seller who agreed to take both the son and mother together.