MY WIFE AND OTHER ANIMALS (WITH DUE APOLOGIES TO GERALD DURREL & THE ANIMALS)

Part I : Stars in our Eyes and a Head full of Hair 

THOSE WERE THE DAYS

Our tryst with the animal kingdom starts with our first meeting. Now I would like to point out at this stage, that my wife's association with animals dates back even further. However, since the main protagonists in this story traveled different paths to reach this juncture, it is important that I pick up the thread from this point.

The occasion itself was not spectacular or momentous in itself but was an indicator as to how the future would shape itself. The author should have taken heed of the divine warning but like all present day intelligent youth, chose not to, and allowed himself to be led by the nose by destiny albeit aided by that foolish emotion that clouds all judgement, euphemistically, called Love. It was a beautiful day and had gone off quite well till then. A young eligible naval officer, footloose and fancy free, returning from a date. The movie was excellent and the company was good. Well not exactly intellectually stimulating; but then intellectual stimulation was not what I had been looking for anyway. One final chore was to drop off my date to a party at her friend's place. Okay, more women-who was I to complain!

MYSORE 1999

We were greeted by a gaggle of boisterous girls! Well, well, things seemed to be improving for the better. Way to go, I thought, and put on a well-practiced air of confidence and sophistication. Amongst these beauties there was one who stood out. Something about her attracted me. Something different. The way she carried herself, like she was a queen who had descended from her throne to mingle with her subjects. She had an aura about her. Of course, when cupid strikes one misses the finer points. Like for example, this here was a modern day avatar, dressed in a bright fluorescent blue jacket. That is all I can remember of her dress, a small indicator of how overwhelming it was. Mesmerized, into a trance I watched the lesser mortals give way, as her ladyship, made her way towards me. This was too good to be true. She gave me a disdainful look and proceeded to place a dirty scruffy mongrel onto my bike. The fact that this 'cute puppy', was the object of the interest, and not me, shook me out of my trance. Horrified, I watched the attempts to feed the 'thing'. It protested with violent yelps and proceeded to dig its claws with great vigor into the paintwork of my gleaming new bike. Alas the price of love. Which were deeper - the scratches on my bike or my ego, I leave to the readers’ imagination?

What followed later can take up volumes of books, of the mushy Mills and Boon variety. Needless to say, in the course of time we got married. What is most important here, is to tell my fellow male friends, that our period of courtship is often remembered. Whenever there is cause for discord, more often than not, on the subject of animals, my wife reminds me - "You knew what you were getting into before marriage. I never hid anything, so don't you dare say anything, about my animals."

SUMOOO DOO

What follows marriage is the awakening, OK you can call it the honeymoon period. The first visitor to our humble abode was - no prizes for guessing - a mutt called “Summer”. Oh yes! Bright he was, full of warmth and love, a fluffy and little, white bundle of joy. That is, if you happened to be my wife. Sammu, as he is better known, considered himself to be the soul (pun intended) guardian of my wife. I must admit that he was gracious enough to let me into MY house. That was as far as it got. No amount of coaxing and cajoling (by my wife that is) could persuade ‘Sammu Doo’ dearest to let me enter MY BEDROOM. Often after a round of tidbits and a mixture of naval maneuvers and acrobatics I managed to get in. In, as far as the bed and ….. well, I would retire quite literally licking my wounds. Naturally SAMMU had to go back to her parents place. The excuse, well, that is the first time I thanked the Navy for a transfer. So my wife tearfully bid farewell to her hometown Visakhapatnam, her fish and dear darling Sammu. I followed with a long face, my heart doing somersaults of joy. Mumbai here we come! Little did I know what was in store for me...

Any naval officers’ idea of Malad can at the most be stretched to - Beach, Beer and Shacks - Paradise. Few will take notice of the diverse flora and fauna that abounds in Marve. From the spacious Naval Park we moved into a one-room cabin designed for one, at the most two, bachelors. This with the surprising amount of luggage we had managed to accumulate in our six months of marriage. Who was I to complain, right on the beach, watch the setting Sun. Oh! the awakening, I mean honeymoon, period. At first it was too good to be true, long walks on the golden beach, the setting Sun melting into the sea. Ablaze like my wife’s name, Arunima, glowing a beautiful red.  How truly romantic!

Chutney burst the bubble. Chutney was a kitten. I dare not use the word stray. Sacrilege. Anyway, Chutney was a ‘cute’ little cat. Oh, the fact that we had barely enough space to move never crossed our mind(s) when the issue of giving shelter to a homeless little waif came up. Chutney derived her name from the fact that her mother was called Spice. Chutney took an instant, inexplicable, liking for me. She had half a paw and few claws missing, however she never let up a chance to show her love for me. Everyday, she ensured that I woke up in time for PT by lovingly digging the remainder of her claws into my face or walking all over me and finally squatting on my nose. The fact that her body clock was all awry ensured that this process was repeated at all odd hours like three in the morning.

Chutney was adopted around time of the onset of the annual migratory season of birds. It amazes me that a being that is intelligent enough to chart a course to warmer climates can be stupid enough as to invariably fall out of its nest at the drop of a hat. Added to that they took an instant liking to all the plastic around Malad. However, their love for the environment stopped at that, for they missed no opportunity to bomb unsuspecting under-trainee officers with this rejected garbage. I never saw them miss their mass garbage disposal routine, especially when someone was late for classes.

The birds brought new visitors and fame for Aru. No sooner would a feathered creature fall, it would be taken into the nursing care of our over populated cabin. Soon the kids of our little hamlet, for some strange reason named her ‘Animal Doctor Auntie’. These devoted kids would bring hordes of half-dead creatures to her for TLC - tender loving care. They would even follow us in the funeral march to bury each and every one of these dearly departed avian friends. Of course the gentleman with the longest face, the pallbearer, was yours truly. I perfected the art of looking through the corner of my eyes to see that no body was watching and then pretending that I didn’t exist when we passed people crying, tears in their eyes, doubled up with laughter. 

During all this ‘Shibu’ stoically supported us. Shibu, the beach dog of the Hamlet, adopted us. One fine day amused by our antics he marched up to us and held out a paw in a solemn greeting. I literally went down on my knees and hugged him, for I knew what was next. Shibu declared ownership on us. Big round doleful eyes, a big smile on his face, he would lead us on our walks. Of course, he was banned from the funeral marches. Lest he dug up the earthly remains of, you know who.  At first he knocked at our door, then barged in and took charge of the remaining visible part of the floor, and followed by eating up half of Aru’s breakfast. So he remained with us, till we left paradise.

SHIBU AND CURRY

One of the more interesting visitors was Peggy the pigeon. Peggy had an attitude problem. Her beak and wings were broken but not her spirit. She would furiously chase Shibu around the place pecking at his feet with the poor chap scampering helplessly. At first this delighted me no end, as I had never managed to evict Shibu even at the excuse of some privacy. This was until Peggy, like all Aru’s animals, turned her affections to me.  The only person who got along with Peggy, i.e. who Peggy didn’t peck out of existence was Curry. This story has been a long time coming. Curry sat by my side as I wrote the first draft. His tail wagging, encouraging smile on his face full of empathy. Yes, the years have softened me. Curry was only one who showed at least some pretense of trying to leave, till dinner time or sleep time that is.

Marve is an ideal place for a nice peaceful evening jog. Also most of us develop a fetish for this pastime when, we want to convince ourselves that we are still young. The young, well, they’d rather sleep. So one fine evening we were pleasantly surprised to see one of the ‘young at heart’ (who shall remain unnamed), rolling past us being followed by a little puppy. Eyes barely open the little fellow struggled, making pathetic efforts to catch up. After he crossed us twice, we couldn’t resist asking the Pied Piper about his disciple. When he feigned ignorance, my wife looked at me, and my heart melted. Yes, I had started going soft. Ok! I had no choice, but I must admit that I was going soft. The zoo was full. Mind you, special mention must go to my Civilian Bearer, Surjeet, who stood by me in this hour of need. He and the other CB’s instantly adopted Curry and promptly named him ‘Shikari’. 

HANDSOME CURRY

Curry was a wanderer, he could never stay indoors for long and has an insatiable thirst for knowledge. The name itself was derived from - a mix of nearly everything. Obviously, not being a cat he did not know the result of curiosity. Probably these qualities and the desire to eat anything new that enters into his area of vision was the reason of his friendship with Peggy. The CB’s and Shibu took Curry under their wing. Soon our evening walks turned into mini circus shows. Shibu taught Curry how to make an utter fool of himself trying to catch crabs. 
Step 1. Find a crab and assume you are smart enough to catch it (this involved running frantically after crabs and then being chased back by the waves) 
Step 2. Find a crab hole and start digging till you are half buried in sand. Then give agonized yelps of pain on having found and then being bitten by one. This game had another variation, getting-stuck-in-the-hole-you-dug. 

Aru insisted that the ‘boys’ needed some exercise. Since she refused to put them on a leash and I refused to run, we devised a novel solution. Actually the ‘boys’ discovered it themselves. It involved us driving on my earlier mentioned bike round and round our locality at top speed. The dogs followed in full sprint. This ran into rough weather soon, for obvious reasons, as the non-dog-lovers found this to be a hazard to their safety and peace of mind. 

The retreating monsoons swept away the feathered ones and hastened our departure to Ghatkopar. The usual tearful good-byes followed. The ‘boys’ had to be left behind as their unfettered souls belonged to the beaches of Marve.  However Curry with his insatiable appetite and curiosity decided otherwise. He decided to expand his horizons and add new delicacies to his menu. His first attempt at eating baby crow ended in him literally eating crow, when a furious colony of crows pecked him bald. Beaten and bruised but his spirit of adventure not diminished, he turned his attention to snakes and lizards. The result, a very very sick dog who had to be nursed back to health and obviously, we couldn’t leave this little mutt behind.

BLUEBELLS

MOORA, Ghatkopar, for the un-initiated, stands as the gateway between heaven and hell.  Dirty, polluted, barren and overcrowded outside. Once you step inside its like you are in Eden, minus the apple trees of course. Anyway the only incident, among the others, that I will mention here is the arrival of Bluebells. One fine day my wife returned home with a bigger smile than usual. I smelt rat but did not expect a cute little kitten, pure white with deep blue eyes, to jump out of her bag.  NO! I screamed in my most authoritarian tone, knowing fully well that the battle was already lost. We arrived at a compromise, Bluebells would be returned to the urban wild, post medication and TLC of a few days. The warning bells were ringing but I was trapped. I woke up a few days later on my birthday and was greeted with a big hug, a birthday cake and…A birthday present wearing a ribbon as a bow tie. Bluebells had come to stay, how can one spurn a birthday gift, that too given by your loving wife?

BEST OF FRIENDS

Bluebells was a descendant of the royal family. Even I must admit that she was a beauty. She knew what she wanted and just took it. The object of her desire might be food, attention or amusement. She took charge of the family. She would summon Curry with a seductive meow and the besotted fool would bound up to her. They would play with whatever she pleased - a ball, my newspaper or some unfortunate curtain. When she tired of the game(s) she would dismiss the poor bloke with a swipe across his face and he would scamper away yelping. No matter how much she humiliated him, he never tired of going back again and again on her summons. When she wanted food she would help herself to his food and scratch and hiss if he ventured near her bowl. At night they would cuddle up together, a perfect picture of love and harmony. Of course when her Highness felt the need for extra warmth, she would snuggle into our blanket. We had a golden rule-“No animals on our bed”. 

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS

But of course Bluebells was royalty. No manner of admonishment, even a dunking in a tub of water (when my wife was not looking) could make her desist. Her habits were no less regal. She did not need any toilet training. She knew where the loo was and used it, and adapted to the litter box with a disdainful look, as if to say- “In my kingdom the bogs were made of gold”. 

LIVE TOY

By the time I got my marching orders for Kochi we had expanded as a family. That is not a reference to my girth but that my daughter Advaita had been born. Bluebells and Curry adopted Advaita and became her guardian angels. No matter how much Addu tormented Curry and Bluebells, they would take it stoically. Its not as if these two were filled with the milk of 'animal' kindness. Her Royal Highness Bluebells was  strictly 'touch me not'. Unless she chose a subject that was permitted to, for the time being, groom her. Curry was developing a ferocious streak and was prone to the occasional growl and snarl. But with Advaita they were her devoted slaves. She would pull their tails, poke them, cuddle them, sleep over them - but not a peep was heard from them. In fact, when we were not in the room and our angel was sleeping, Bluebells would cuddle with her and Curry would stand guard over her. And mind you  if anyone even dared to look at our daughter! They would have hell to play with.

The trip from Mumbai to Kochi was adventurous to say the least. Transportation had been upgraded to a second hand Premier Padmini. Normal families would have settled into mundane issues like packing and farewells. We launched into a market survey of means to transport the menagerie. Each mode except walking was explored threadbare. By Air - our future mode - too expensive. By train - too long for animals to be boxed up. No Ist AC bogie available to splurge. 

ARU "GET ME OUTTA HERE"
ADDU TRYING TO COAX THE CAT FOR SOME TLC 

AT GOA 2003 - DRIVE FROM MUMBAI TO KOCHI

The final choice, drive down the picturesque West coast. The mode - the "tank like" Premier Padmini. To date this has been my favourite car. No AC, no power steering, shocks to shock you and solid to the core. So we crammed our Tank with Luggage, two animals, a two year old and two adults. The blistering summer and cramped conditions did not dampen our spirits but other than our daughter drove all of us half crazy. The fact that few hotels or watering holes agreed to give shelter to this travelling circus made us drive long distances without a break in the broiling hot month of May. The beautiful road trip remains a memory scalded into our consciousness till date. My daughter, far removed from adult wisdom or teenage angst, thoroughly enjoyed herself. But that's another story. We gleefully broke journey at Calicut, after about 1300 kms on the road, at Aru's aunts place. That should have been the High point - an Oasis, shelter. But alas our Queen went missing. Maybe the journey was too much for her and she tried to find her way back or.......? We have strong suspicions that she Eloped with a Mallu cat. Our primary suspect is the aunt's fiendish looking tomcat that went by the dubious name of ‘Shangu’. I mean 'Shangu' come on, that name sounds devilish! Well, since then we've had cats with weirder names but at that time Shangu sounded absolutely villainous. That was the last we heard of Bluebells. With a heavy heart I left my family at Calicut and went ahead the rest of the 200 odd Km to fix a house for my depleted family. No matter of search or survey yielded any results for our darling Bluebells.

Advaita  with her favourite Dora Tee -2005
In our new wheels all "Toweled up" for  the long journey

 Kerela and Kochi are beautiful, a tourists haven and we travelled far and wide but our family size remained same. As far as the animals go two incidents merit attention. My daughter grew in exuberance and Curry grew more moody and restive. It was as if his soulmate Bluebells had left a void too deep. We just couldn't get ourselves to replace her. One day on a hot and humid day while we slept Advaita went on an adventure. She decided that banging a plastic shovel and crawling  around the house would lead to great new discoveries. Our very own Dora the Explorer, all of two years old. Dora discovered Curry under the bed. The farther Dora crawled the farther Curry crept away, till he was cornered. Dora gave a whoop of joy and banged Curry hard on the head. Curry snapped and Advaita lunged forward to kiss him. In the process, she got bitten on her lips. I woke up to their collective yowls and went for him with a vengence. God! I could have killed him that day. A tearful, bleeding daughter stopped us by sobbing - "Don hit Cully - pleeeeese don hit Cully, nooo". She jumped out out her mother's arms and physically stopped me. The second was our journey North back to Mumbai. The old car had deteriorated beyond repair. Held together with rust, paint and will power. So we upgraded to a car with AC, power steering and most importantly, with split seats and tall enough to have Curry travel comfortably

Mumbai, the passing on of Curry and the arrival of Annabelle, well that's another story......like hair now , gone tomorrow  and adorable Zara and Pogayan and ........