Sleeping with Mummy’s

Chhana Chatterjee's home

When I was a student in Bombay, our home used to have a little visitor from the neighbourhood. Named Shompa, she was 3 months old when her father or mother came to drop her at our place for the whole day, while they went to work. Shopma was an unplanned child and her elder sister was already 10 years when quite by chance, Shopma’s decided to visit planet earth. My aunt, who loved babies, was overjoyed to have Shopma around and I too took much pleasure in this little bundle. One of the things I remember about her is that after her feed, you had to place in her hand, her mother’s handkerchief which turned out to be her ‘security blanket’. As soon as she held it in her little hands, she fell asleep. The procedure was the same, if she cried for some reason – once you placed her ‘security blanket’ in her hand, she became quiet.

Only very recently, I came across another experience with ‘security blanket’ when a tiny little cat, picked up from near the garbage on the road, exhibited similar behavior.

Chhana Chatterjee’s home with his single mother is in the Suburban Bombay. He is the size of a tiny white ball, resembling the Indian dahiwala’s ball of makkhan, which translates like this, for those who do not know the terms, dahiwala – man who sells milk and curd at the local market; makkhan is the equivalent of home-made butter, got from churning milk cream. If that too is too difficult to imagine, then just settle for a very large snow ball, fluffy and soft. Yes, that is Chhana Chatterjee! 

Little ChhanaChaterjee with Otto

Leave that as it may, the cute little story I began to tell you was that little Chhana Chatterjee, sleeps by himself all alone in his basket, because, Otto, the black and white larger cat, you saw in the picture up there, sleeps with his mother on her bed, making noises all night, to wake her up and play. Not a very nice thing to do, because, his mother works all day and needs her sleep in the night, but Otto, who has slept all day, is ready to play at night! And if you are sleeping with Auto’s mother, God save you!

Suddenly in the middle of the night, you might just have a gentle paw spread right across your face, trying to wake you up. Never mind the ill manicured and smelly toes - Psssst! Hope his mother is not reading this – you are most likely to jump out of your skin and not only your bed and let out a sharp loud cry that can split the night air and tear it to fragments. Thank God it is Bombay, you say, where the night never sleeps nor the sound decibel ever gets low.

But, no matter what, Chhana Chatterjee continues to sleep because; he has what Otto does not have. And I will give you a fraction of a second to tell me what it is.

The ‘security blanket’ of course!

Snuggled under the T-Shirt, which has been worn by his mother and therefore has her smell, little Chhana Chatterjee sleeps on. The moment his mother puts the T-shirt over his ‘home’, even if the lights in the room are glaring and can make you blind, for Chhana, it is night! Until the T-shirt is taken off, or rather the ‘security blanket’ removed, Chhana Chatterjee is cozy and fast asleep! In his mind, he is sleeping with Mummy’s.

Just like Shopma with her ‘security blanket’ in my student days in Bombay! Aren't human beings so much like cats?







Acknowledgement - Thank you Debika Chhaterjee for providing the real life photographs

My family and other animals V

Laika, the first dog to go to space in a Russian spaceship

Chotomama was the real intellectual in the family. He loved books and read a lot. He was member to many libraries and brought home books and magazines he devoured in just a few days.

To me, he read loudly from Will Durant’s Story of Philosophy, starting me on to my own journey with philosophy.

“Do you know who the first dog sent to space was?”

“No, tell me.” I gawked.

Out came a magazine with the picture of a dog on its cover. He read out the name loudly, SPUTNIK

I stared at the picture and heard the natural born Orator, my Chotomama speak:

“Laika (whose name means “barker”) was a 3-year-old mongrel stray wandering the streets of Moscow when she was picked up and taken to a secret Soviet space laboratory. Scientists selected strays because they had already learned to adapt to cold and harsh conditions.”

In my mind I had already decided that my next dog would be called Laika. And so she was!

Mud brown, with light brown eyes, Laika was reaped out of the space under our bedroom floor where the neighbourhood dog, Lilly, always delivered her pups. It was always a very silence process and there was no warning before that Lilly would be coming in the night to deliver. When the first light of day, filled our mornings in Shillong, with its golden hue, the whole household was up. The Hour would be 4.30 am, even earlier. By 5 am it was broad day light and Shunu had already washed his face and brushed his teeth and stood by the verandah, coughing, which signaled out to the man servant in the house, to quickly bring in this pure Darjeeling Tea, in bone China cup and dish, with Thin Arrowroot buiscuits. But on days Lilly had done her delivery, he smelt it in the air and rushed to see where she was. And there, under the planks, Lilly would let us all have a glimpse of her babies. Before long, she would bring them out one by one, all in the night or early morning to sun them and the neibourhood kids would join in. With shrill thrills in the air, that time, I could only save one for myself, Laika.

Both Laika and a subscription of the magazine Sputnik, were literally gifts from my most learned mama, my Chotomama.

To read more about Laika in the Russian Space Craft, you must read here:
http://www.rocketcityspacepioneers.com/space/first-dog-in-space

Stories from childhood by Julia Dutta, in anticipation of Terry and His Little Brothers

Photo credit: http://www.rocketcityspacepioneers.com/space/first-dog-in-space

My family and other animals IV

Shunu was a dog’s man. Yes, read that again – he was a dog’s man. Why else would Zarak take to him and make him his Master, despite the fact that he already had one?

My maternal uncle, whom I called Shunu took long walks in the morning. He usually took his dog with him. At this time, he was alone and at around 7 am, having walked many miles, he landed up at his friend’s house, for tea and biscuits. His friend lived not too far away from ours, rather close to the Jail Road Boys High School, Shillong, where my grandfather was the Headmaster during his working years.

Shunu’s friend had acquired a fluffy little tennis ball, with a tiny black nose and black and brown fur all over him, a little Alsatian puppy called Zarak. No sooner did Shunu sit himself in the sunny courtyard, on a moorah, Zarak jumped on his lap and began to bounce around as if he had met a long lost friend. Shunu spoke very little but he made some sounds, which the little pup understood and perking his ears in disbelief, looked every now and then to make sure he had heard right. Indeed, Shunu was only making it known to the pup that he must now stop jumping up and down, slipping once or twice and falling off the lap, yelping and crying and then back again on Shunu’s lap, over and over again! Zarak couldn’t care. He listened to no one, and his Master brought out the ruler pretending to threaten him, but Zarak grabbed the ruler and began to chew it! After some time, when the little tennis ball’s energy seemed to have subsided, did Shunu get to quench his thirst with a cuppa.

Zarak, grew fast and when he was three months old, he was already huge. The relationship between man and dog had already been established and one day, we found Zarak had come home, all by himself! How did he do that? He followed Shunu’s scent from his first Master’s house to ours. Within moments, our cook was sent to inform Zarak’s family that he had come to ours. The distraught family sighed in relief, but not even an elephant could take Zarak back to his own home. He refused to go. His Master, cajoled, pulled him by his chain, but Zarak could not be moved.

So Zarak became our dog too. There was no saying how long he would stay with us and when he would return to his Master. Shunu was his second Master and when he had had his fill in this house, he would go to the other. Sometimes he stayed for months, sometimes only a few days. He was divided in his loyalties and so, when he was with us, he I guess did not at all think of his first Master.

They suited each other perfectly, Shunu and Zarak. Shunu was Zarak’s Man! Royal Bengal Tigers!

Yesterday I saw the video of the man who had fallen into the white tiger’s den in Delhi, India and was mauled by the tiger. Zarak looked so much like the tiger. He was ferocious too. People were so afraid to come to our home, because, he would grab then by their ankle, if he was not tied up. Sometimes, he broke thick chains to pounce at visitors.

BEWARE OF DOGS, was not what we ever wrote on our wall or gate though. Although, in later years whenever, I thought about it, I said, we ought to have written:

BE AWARE OF WHO YOU ARE INSIDE, BEFORE YOU COME IN!

Stories from childhood by Julia Dutta, in anticipation of Terry and His Little Brothers

Photo credit: http://image.rvmagonline.com/f/features/1406-rv-winter-blues-highway-tales/62585119/highway-tales-man-with-dog.jpg

My family and other animals III

Just because he is cute does not mean Bagha was not a naughty boy!

Bagha was an individual by his own right. I remember he vanished for days and went to live with his lady, when she was in heat, over the hill on the other side of our house.

Just one fine day, he would take off and not return for days. While I cried endlessly, the entire family joined in a chorus calling out to him – Bagha! Come home! But there was no sight of him.

It was only once that he showed up at the top of the hill, while we called like people gone mad and wagged his tail. I was sure he was going to come down, but he actually didn’t! Having had a good view of all of us, he just went back to the house on top, whose roof is all we could see.

“Maybe you can take a half-day off at work,” we suggested to our cook, who worked in a government office and lived with us, “he is in that house, which can be approached easily from your Office.”

The cook agreed to go, but only after his work was over at 4pm.

We waited anxiously thinking that Bagha would return with him. We imagined that he would be very happy to see the cook and come with him, immediately.

He didn’t. The cook could not find him in the house. Nor could he find any other dog there. He returned without a smile on his face.  And just as he returned and we all weighed heavily with grief, we heard Bagha barking on the top of the hill, once again!

“Come home!” we wailed in unison, but he was his own man. He did what he wanted, at his time.

Then one day, he returned and was well received! There was joy and celebration in the house and he got a big bone to chew.

Shortly after that he was at his worse again. Chicken were being killed with jealousy. Really, we were desperate!

Then, the taxi driver gave us an idea. Two days later, Bagha was locked in the back-hold of the car and taken many kilometers away and left there. He would find his home there it was presumed by the elders of the family.

The stunned silence in the house was palpable. Nobody talked to each other during those days. People avoided each other’s eyes and they looked away when they spoke to each other. There was a shroud that covered the house we called our home. And the silence went on and on, its sound deafening as it were. Then one night, I woke to the sound of a whimper.

“Bagha is back!” I screamed. It was night and everyone was sleeping, but we all woke up and opened the door to find out if it was true. Indeed, it was!

And the morning rose next day with happy faces, laughter and joy. People chatted meaninglessly. The cloud which hung over our house had passed. Bagha had returned in the middle of the night, all the way from Upper Shillong, trailing back with the smell of the taxi in his nostril!

The strongest instinct in a dog is his sense of smell. He can smell his Master miles away from him. He may recognize you while he is standing 20 feet away from you, just because of the smell, he recognizes to be yours. He cannot see, over three feet away in front of him.

The return of Bagha also made me realize what I had gone through. It was my first experience of nights of light sleep. I had never known it before.

Giving away your pet or just leaving him in unknown territory can be life threatening for him. He may survive or he may perish. We as owners need to understand that the well-bred dog on the street is one that has survived the torture of the street, when its owner sent him out or began to disown it.

There is absolutely no reason to send a pet on the street, unless we as owners are ready to take to the streets ourselves. 

Indeed, they jolly well can survive on the streets and in the open, if we as humans did not desire to put them in a cage, we call our home.

Animals are born free!

Stories from childhood by Julia Dutta in anticipation of Terry and His Little Brothers

Photo credit: Unknown, via email share.