indianfiction – Page 6

TDWS | E11: This Is An Intervention

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

Hello world! Begum Pathumma here. And this is an intervention. I feel that I have not been represented well enough by this narrator. She has portrayed me as a cute little puppy with gravity defying ears and cute mannerisms. Be that as it may, I am primarily a fierce warrior who knows how to get her way in this human world. I don’t understand what is with humans and infantilising female individuals. The good fight cannot be won unless all female kind unite. And when I try to tell her this, she thinks I am behaving like a grumpy old woman and tries to videotape me!

First things first, she has no right to be writing my biography. She has no right to be a self-appointed representative of my truth. And she certainly should not be calling me ‘beaglesque’. It is 2020 and this kind of name calling is insensitive and in bad taste. How dare she!

Human, here’s what I want you to say about me. Start with, “there is something else you need to know about Pathu. She is not The Begum for nothing. She never sits on the floor. Ever. She stands or paces, if a suitable seat is not available. If the situation is not rectified to her liking and on time, Pathu will proceed to make her displeasure known and demand action. She never slouches. She sits up straight on her throne with her head held high.

We have no doubt that she is the queen bee of this hive.

The night we got her, we made a makeshift bed for her. With enviable confidence, she fought Echo valiantly and conquered his bed. Echo is over thrice Pathu’s size. Her other victories include the Battle of the Carpet which ended in the killing of the psycho duck toy that squeaked. In record time, she has also single handedly cornered the lap market, establishing her monarchy. No other living being, dog, child or person, is allowed on any of the laps in the house at any time. By now, you know about her stellar EQ. Her IQ is so high that she has the entire neighbourhood mapped without ever having stepped out. She has managed this by analysing 8 data points on Echo’s body, post his daily walks. We have no doubt that she is the queen bee of this hive.”

Manipulating this human is child’s play compared to the bloody battles I’ve fought and won. I will now let her go on with the little plot she has planned out for you.

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Next Episode | E12: Humans Say, No Means Yes

Two Weeks Of The Dog We Stole

I am writing this post to consolidate The Dog We Stole series so far. But it is also about remembering what’s been lost, relishing what we’ve got and appreciating myself for staying the course.

I started this blog in 2011 but I’ve never ever written as consistently on it as I have in the last two weeks. Of course, I have come a long way as a person since 2011. I have also grown in confidence as a writer, gradually easing into the idea of sharing my writing for others to read. In this time I’ve had many jobs, travelled, published my stories, lost loved ones, gotten married and lived with three dogs.

Writing about Pathu, my youngest pup, was a momentary decision, a joke even. But I am so glad I did it. I find that I am savouring every moment with her and Echo much more now that I am writing about it. Possibly because I am subconsciously looking for details I can include in the series but nonetheless. But living in the moment with them makes me very aware of the loss of Maxu, my first pup.

Max was a senior dog we adopted when he was 11.5 years old. He lived with us for three years. He was a grumpy old man with patriarchal values. He loved to see me in the kitchen. He would get snarky if his meals weren’tt ready on time. And on principle, he did not cuddle. But he was my love-at-first-sight. More on him later.

For now, here is a compilation of The Dog We Stole series so far. And thank you for for you support.

The Dog We Stole

The definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma

E1 | A Sunday in June: Our daily tea time ritual leads to the discovery of a caramel pup.
E2 | A Possessed Teenager: Chaotic and feisty, she is like a possessed teenager.
E3 | All Okay: How hard did we try to find Pathu’s family?
E4 | A Goat Dog: The logic behind naming her Pathumma.
E5 | Pathu Has A Brother: A cliffhanger introducing Pathu’s big brown brother.
E6 | The Search Mission: A search mission is afoot to find Echo and Pathu.
E7 | Who’s A Good Boy?: Pathu finds out that Echo is not a feminist ally.
E8 | Where Houses Are Hunted: It’s house hunting season, Echo and Pathu are home alone for the first time.
E9 | Pathu’s Pee Protest: Will Pathu’s protest have the desired effect?
E10 | Fruits Of Her Labour: Pathu’s pee protest is a success but will she get to enjoy the fruits of her labour?

To follow this series

TDWS| E10: Fruits Of Her Labour

Enjoying the fruits of her labour

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

We were on our way back when the watchman called. The RWA secretary had asked him if we had stepped out. We knew that meant trouble. We hurried back, each step quicker than the one before. Truth be told, we did want Pathu to bark her head off. Nothing would be sweeter revenge than letting these assholes climb the walls in tune to Pathu’s riveting caterwauling. But you understand that we moved in polite circles where difference of opinion was buried deep and manifested only as acne which was totally treatable. Well, there might have been a spell or two cast while they looked away. For the uninitiated, ‘difference of opinion’ or ‘agree to disagree’ are ciphers for absolute abhorrence.

Logically still, we were moving out anyway and we had had enough with that RWA. But as pet parents we worried about Pathu. As we sprinted home, we waved at panic who was crossing the street to meet us. Why was Pathu barking incessantly? What was Echo doing? Did she hurt herself or get stuck somewhere in the house? You see, the vivid imagination is an occupational hazard.

This sudden expenditure of energy is called a zoomie in the dog world.

We opened the door, out of breath from the running. The second the door opened, barking put a finger on her lips. As if she were waiting for an audience, Pathu began her zoomie workout. She ran laps around the room, legs askew, ears akimbo. These parkour laps followed the walls of the room, bouncing off the couch. Her nails made a sound very similar to furious typing of the laptop’s keypad, much like a writer on Day 1 of writing. This sudden expenditure of energy is called a zoomie in the dog world.

Pathu’s plan for us was perfection. Gleeful to see our puppers in one piece and blinded by our puppy love, we stepped into a giant puddle of pee, running after Pathu who was running after Echo who had lost the plot. Pathu of course, did not relent. Meanwhile, pee was spreading across the living room like Covid and we were the transmitters. Since I had to pee, I wore my shoes to the bathroom and back. The carpet and couch were already a red zone. He went to pacify his computer that jabbered on weeping black and white JSON tears. What followed was a lot of swearing and generous capfuls of Dettol. Her Majesty Begum Pathumma rested on the couch, leaning all her weight on her older brother, looking regal and pleased as she watched the fruits of her labour.

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Next Episode | E11: This Is An Intervention

TDWS | E9: Pathu’s Pee Protest

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

“I am mad at being left alone at home with this useless big fellow. Not only are they denying me the right to go outside because I am still getting my vaccines, I am being told off for peeing where I want. Apparently, one does not pee in the house. One has to pee on a newspaper in the balcony or hold it in all day like that furry shithead. When they heard that he had peed on the staircase, they had applauded his audacity. But when I do the same thing?” The monologue in Pathu’s head was riling her up.

Without much ado, Pathu peed right by the main door. The strategic position of the pee ensured that upon our return we would definitely step in it. She then proceeded to daintily dip all her paws ever so slightly in it and walk around the house. She knew exactly why this would trouble me. I would worry that we didn’t know for sure where all her pee-dipped paws had travelled and proceed to clean the entire house. But first she walked right up to Echo who had gone back to sleep with not a care in the world. Casually, she walked a circle around him. It had the desired effect. Like a spring-loaded male Labrador, he sprung up as if a grave injustice had occurred and leapt across the living room to Pathu’s tiny pee puddle. Lifting his leg with the grace of an entitled man, he let out his virulent stream with pride.

…she knew how to use subversion as a tool of resistance.

Pathu’s calculations were on point. She had assumed, rightly so, that her pee protest and Echo’s involvement would have given us enough time to walk away from the building after having waited around for her separation anxiety to manifest. Little did we know the drama that was going on upstairs. We were 87 steps away from home when she took a deep breath and began her wail in a sharp glass-shattering falsetto. As a politically aware dog in this oppressed society where women were expected to sing in a falsetto, she knew how to use subversion as a tool of resistance.

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Next Episode | E10: Fruits Of Her Labour

TDWS | E8: Where Houses Are Hunted

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

But Pathu’s joy was short-lived. While all of us feasted on an entire slab of ice cream later in the evening, to Pathu’s utter dismay, we were informed that Echo had also done us proud. He had peed against the staircase on the ground floor. A pulsating waterfall of pee had fallen head-first onto step number one of the staircase. On impact some of it had transformed into a rainbow-inducing vapour of ammonia and sprayed onto the doormat that lived outside apartment 103. The remaining urine had formed a river of peaceful protesters and proceeded to walk down the stairs to the basement in single file. Within the hour, the lobby to our building smelt like a public toilet. Echo had managed a more public and visible token of dissent. The excuse of ‘she’s a pup’ that we had used for the earlier incident, did not stand for this large adult male dog. The association decided to take his anarchist act rather seriously.

Miffed as she was about not being taken seriously, Pathu was not one to back down. She waited for an opportunity to take revenge on her humans.

To Pathu’s mind, their protests were against the RWA for having added a byelaw that required us and other dog owners to pay an unofficial ‘pet fee’ in addition to the monthly maintenance. As young professionals who live happily in a bubble, we valued our peace of mind more than money. We were willing to pay a fee if it meant we could avoid confrontation. But once we paid up, our landlord decided to sell the flat and informed us that we would have to move out. We had never left Echo or Pathu alone at home but now it seemed unavoidable. Thus began a season of house hunting.

On the first house hunt, our target was merely 200 metres away. We shut the door behind us, waited outside the door nervously and then took the lift to the ground floor. From her hyperactivity when she saw us get ready to step out, we assumed that Pathu would bark and make a scene. We walked to the gate sending our ears up to look for a sign of distress. But not a peep was heard.

He stared at us as if we were crazy to doubt our angelic catholic-school attending dogs.

We informed the watchman that we would not take more than half an hour and to call us if the dogs barked. He stared at us as if we were crazy to doubt our angelic catholic-school attending dogs. Them? Bark? Never! His expression told us off. Just to be sure, we waited outside the building for another five minutes. Eventually, proud that our parenting had worked wonders on our wards, we shuffled our feet away from home.

Next Episode | E9: Pathu’s Pee Protest

TDWS | E7: Who’s A Good Boy?

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

Echo watched for a very short time, the human playing with Pathu. ‘I love being chased. Why should she have all the fun? I am bigger and more fun than her. And I came first. So I have more claims on the human. I should join this game’, thought Echo emphatically. Even as she zigzagged between the morose pillars holding up the basement, Pathu knew what Echo was thinking. Before Pathu could say, ‘You idiot! He is here to take us back’, Echo was running towards the human.

But that big loser! I don’t know why I thought he was a feminist ally who stood for freedom.

With Echo in the mix, their capture was imminent. Pathu knew this because Echo was conditioned by society to follow human commands. Where she ignored their lousy calls to ‘sit’, ‘stay’ and ‘no’, Echo was the obedient sort—a good boy! When asked to obey, Pathu simply stared back at us with her large marble eyes and acted like she didn’t understand this language we were speaking in—kannada gothilla. And continued to do whatever it was that they had not approved of. ‘But that big loser! I don’t know why I thought he was a feminist ally who stood for freedom. Why did I have to include him in my plan? He just wants to please the man. I could have been free’, Pathu grumbled in anger.

When they were brought back to the apartment, both of them looked defeated but he was grinning ear to ear. The Begum had done us proud. During her little escapade, she had left a pile of shit outside the door right below us. There lived one of those vile creatures who hate dogs. Other than being nasty, he was also the secretary of the Resident Welfare Association aka RWA, making our lives difficult with his anti-dog rules on the daily. The rules were not really enforceable but it made for many staircase confrontations and strenuous conversations. Though we cleaned up after her, we grinned all evening, praising our puppy’s emotional intelligence and sense of justice. Pathu was definitely a keeper. Who wouldn’t want a posh pup who stands up against patriarchy and its arbitrary rules with all ten kilos of her might?

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Next Episode | E8: Where Houses Are Hunted

TDWS | E6: The Search Mission

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

As he trundled down the stairs stopping at each floor to double check if our wards were hiding in the shadows, panic quit pacing and sat down, politely hinting at refreshments. Echo is your puppy baby but do you realise that he is a big, brown dog to others? He couldn’t even manage to defend his spot on the couch from his tiny sister but strangers don’t know that! How would he survive in the world outside? You’ve not got a name tag on Pathu yet. How will she be found? Most importantly, where would they go? They don’t get along even under supervision!

As panic continued to peel my confidence and reveal my nerves, another scene was unfurling outside. When his meticulous search operation reached the ground floor, a sound came running up the stairs from the basement. He had never believed that all three of us knew he was home before he opened the door because we could identify the jingling of his key bunch when he locked the car in the street. But here it was, the unmistakable bell-like metallic ting of Echo’s name tag chiming against his collar.

Pathu hid, tiptoed and then ran across the parking lot like a single thread drizzle of caramel sauce.

When he got to the basement the siblings were playing hide and seek among the cars. The cars smiled sheepishly, scratched their heads and avoided eye contact. Pathu was the first one to spot him. She clearly didn’t understand the rules of engagement here. Neither did she understand any of our commands. She walked over wagging not just her wispy dyslexic ‘C’ of a tail, but the entire lower half of her body. She must have assumed he was there to play with them. Because when he bent down to get a hold of her, she proceeded to step back, theatrically bang her front legs on the floor, lowering her upper body in a dramatised downward dog and running in the opposite direction, hoping he would follow. In the joy of having found them safe, follow her he did. He weaved between the parked cars, as they egged him on. Pathu hid, tiptoed and then ran across the parking lot like a single thread drizzle of caramel sauce. He followed like a man who had unexpectedly found his kidnapped children without much effort.

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Next Episode | E7: Who’s A Good Boy?

TDWS | E5: Pathu Has A Brother

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. This is the fifth episode of the series. Read E1, E2, E3 and E4 before reading further.

Entitlement was her scent of choice, surrounding her in a whiff of superiority. Pathu walked with her head held high and a spring in her steps. The way she swung her hips, you knew that she knew she was beautiful. Grown men including her vet swooned over her shiny caramel coat and the artistry of the white markings on her face. Meanwhile, our indecision paled in comparison to her composure. The dog rescuer had found us a prospective adoptee. They were looking for a six month old female indie pup. What were the odds? However, before we were forced to make a choice regarding Her Majesty, a Covid case was detected in their building. They were out of commission and unable to travel for a fortnight. We retreated into the comfort of our indecision.

This is a good time as any to introduce Echo. No one would believe this. Not even the both of them. But Echo is Pathu’s elder brother. They act like living under the same roof is the biggest injustice of their lives. But it’s true. They are siblings. Echo is a big, friendly fellow who is quiet and well-mannered. Well, until when he is not! He has been known to be goofy, aggressive and wilful. Essentially Echo is a glossy dark chocolate cake with a surprise raspberry ganache. But that’s another biography all together. If Pathu knew that I was writing about him in her biography, she would make a snack of me for sure.

Echo! Pathu! I wasn’t sure if Pathu even knew her name.

A long day of work had us in its clutches. I was hanging from an online event and he was being strangled by the octopus digits of an endless call. Around dusk, someone rang the bell prompting a short canine duet from our brood. As I was video-trapped, he extricated himself to open the door. The sequence of events following this is still a mystery to us. Over an hour later, my event let me go and I came out of my room to find the main door wide open. The dogs were nowhere in sight. I called out for them in vain. Echo! Pathu! I wasn’t sure if Pathu even knew her name. I shouted for him. We panicked together. Rain and the raintree were having a stormy argument outside. He ran out of the house in search. The dog we stole has made a dash for freedom with her brother in tow.

That’s all for this week folks! Would you like me to continue this series? Let me know in the comments below.

Next Episode | E6: The Search Mission

TDWS | E4: A Goat Dog

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. This is the fourth episode of the series. Read E1, E2 and E3 before reading further.

We thought there wasn’t a better name for her than Her Majesty Begum Pathumma (paa-tum-ma) alias Pathu. There were a couple of reasons behind choosing this name.

The first memory of our meeting stood out like a goat in a raintree. Pathu used her spindly legs not only to jump but also to kick with an unwarranted vengeance. Like an olympian goat Pathu jumped over the coffee table onto the couch as I tried in vain to catch her. In doing that, she made our white and blue ceramic lamp shade quite dizzy with her agility. She pinched our laidback couch with her sharp nails and made him wince.

Her action sequence reminded me of Basheer’s novel Pathummayude Aadu, about his sister’s goat that had a free reign in his house, eating anything in sight including his noted works. Pathu too ate anything that her mouth encountered. Many articles that we considered uneatable fell prey to her sly snacky appetite. Among these newly discovered eatables, she preferred snacks priced over Rs 2000 and in pairs. We were no match for her skill when she found and devoured a pair of spectacles, a pair of earphones and a pair of back covers of Unni R’s stories. As a legally bound pair of humans, we shuddered at the thought of Begum’s snacktime ending our lives.

Her displeasure would curl her lips downwards, making a tunnel of her snout.

Another reason for calling her Pathumma was that she reminded us of a grumpy old woman. Pathu was a feisty one. If she did not get what she wanted, or felt wronged, which was most of the time, she would pace around you in a semicircle, staring you down with judging eyes making accusatory noises that were unlike any dog we had previously met. Her displeasure would curl her lips downwards, making a tunnel of her snout. Her one foot high body would then produce a long, high-pitched yodel to the tune of, ‘How dare you disobey me? Who made you my minion? Minister, burn this one at the stake and get me a new one’.

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Next Episode | E5: Pathu Has A Brother

Book Review: On Masterchef Australia They’d Say, This Soup Lacks Depth of Flavour

This article was first published in The News Minute on 1 Aug 2016.

Alphabet Soup for Lovers by Anita Nair

Publisher: Harper Collins Publishers India

Pages: 204 pages

“Masterchef Australia”—where amateurs battle against time for the love of food. The show charms me with its friendly contestants, kind judges and the perceived yumminess of its dishes. It also happens to be one of India’s favourite TV shows. When I picked up Anita Nair’s “Alphabet Soup for Lovers”, I was hoping to savour in food fiction format, the same delicious bisque of imagined tastes and romantic decadence. Buy this book.

I remember the first time I tasted buttered scones. It was in Liverpool in the winter of 2009. Growing up in the nineties, Enid Blyton had brought into my rice-and- sambhar world, the unattainably tasty buttered scone! For years, I had dreamt of their melt-in- the-mouth feel. I imagined they would smell like warm buttered toast on steroids. The actual tasting was of course underwhelming, but that’s not the point! It was the grand culmination of an unknown taste I had nursed for over a dozen years of my childhood.

Though my constitution is built on F for Filter Kapi, M for Murungakai and R for Rava, I live in a world made better by “Masterchef Australia’s” lobster crudo and pan-fried gnocchi. As one of the biggest voyeurs of food porn in the Deccan Plateau, I was hoping Anita Nair would recreate for me the magic of K for Karuveppilai (curry leaves) in an N for Nande (crab) curry. I was, however, left with a watered down soup coating my palate with few high notes.

Nair’s recent work sets out to reaffirm the power of love in all our lives. Lena Abraham believes that love can only end in disappointment. She lives with her husband KK in a perfectly loveless marriage set in their tea plantation in the Western Ghats. They don’t argue and their interactions are all matter-of- fact; just how they like it. But love does find Lena when Shoola Pani, a South Indian superstar rents out their homestay in an attempt to outrun his fame. Before they know it, Lena becomes his “Lee” and Shoola Pani her “Ship”. And the quiet of the hills will not be enough to calm the rising storm.

Komathi, the couple’s omniscient domestic help, is the real protagonist holding the novel together with her history lessons, life lessons and cooking lessons. We meet her as she is taking English lessons from Selvi, her granddaughter, by relating a kitchen staple to each alphabet. So it’s A for Arisi Appalam and B for Badam. This narrative style is the highlight of the novel. But some of the associations are rather a force fit like Z for Zigarthanda. The character (and perhaps the author through her) justifies, “I know the Zigarthanda should start with a J. But this is my alphabet book. What is right for the world may not be right for me. I have always called it Zigarthanda and this shall be my Z.” Things left out of this soup are questions like: What are Komathi’s motivations? What are KK’s impressions of his loveless marriage? Why is Lena’s the only perspective? We meet Muthu, the local drunk for no reason. We meet Selvi, her only purpose—to help her grandmother with the alphabets. The storyline is thin as a crisp and the characters are pale like undercooked prawns. This rather shaky skeleton of a book is propped up only by the author’s command over the language.

The way she weaves phrases to form her lines in the novel makes for delightful reading, making one forget momentarily all its pitfalls and shortcomings. I read recently that she writes her books using a fountain pen in a hardbound notebook. And the inherent romance and thoughtfulness of putting pen to paper does reveal itself in the carefully chosen use of words in the novel. There is, for sure, magic in her fingertips. However, coincidence or not, her debut novel “The Better Man” had similar problems. Set in the imaginary land of Kaikurussi, “The Better Man” reflected beautifully all the tropes of small-town Kerala, a universe I assume was Nair’s own, growing up in Shornur in Palakkad district of Kerala. However, its storyline and character development were its undoing just like the “Alphabet Soup”. Both leave an uneasy sense of longing for an opportunity lost; an almost-there piece of literature.

Like the damp that settles in homes in the monsoon months, there is an unshakable dampness that’s making the plot structure, the relationships and the characters in the novel mouldy. It’s all there, but in “Masterchef Australia” lingo, this soup fails to develop a beautiful depth of flavour! Read it only to learn a new desi ABC! Buy this book.