Riva is adopted by a street dog
I would come back followed by a dog that would have taken me as his own
I would come back followed by a dog that would have taken me as his own.
Riva was sure Koel was messing with her on this one, “Are you kidding me?”
“Why would I? Tick tock, Riva. You have six hours.” Koel cut the call before laughing out loud. It was fun to ruffle her friend’s feathers. Her husband looked at her over the newspaper. But then he shook his head with a smile and continued reading as their cat ran away from under the table.
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Riva had always loved dogs. But she was afraid that the feeling was not mutual in her life. She got bit by her Nani’s dog when she was seven. She still had the scar of it. His name was Tuffy. They loved the name from Hum Apke Hai Koun. Her maa applied a concoction of haldi on the wound for days.
Once Riva and her family were on a pilgrimage, her father asked her to give prasad to a dog first. She found one after walking the whole road, and it ran away from her. Her brother laughed at her for weeks after that.
So, she stayed away from them and satisfied herself by hearing about the antics of pets from others and watching cute videos on the net. She thought she would never be accepted by the dog community. Till he came.
When the couple moved to Lucknow after marriage, she was wary of the street dogs that roamed freely. When she had to go to the market, she would take him with her, “Would I need to come back from the borders, my love?” but she still clung to him as the dogs barked around them.
One day, Raj couldn’t go with her, and she had to go alone. She never thought she would come back followed by a dog that would have taken her as his own.
And since then, he waited faithfully by their door and came with her till the road ended. That was his area. The other dogs started growling at him whenever he wanted to go with her further.
She named him Bholu. Naive. Because he was. He had scars running over his head and the side of his back legs. Probably a brawl. She never saw him playing with other dogs.
But he would let them eat his food. Especially the pups. He would growl at the dogs but not the pups. And then he would look at Riva with his head tilted to the side. Raj laughed at his antics. Whenever he barked, Raj would say, “Riva, your son is hungry.”
She used to feed him milk and rice. It seemed to be his favorite. And the biscuits! Oh! He loved biscuits! Riva learned to make cookies for him. She made him a batch without sugar every week. He didn’t particularly care for bread. He used to leave that for the pups. It was not like he was short of admirers who would feed him his rice.
He was a good one. And every lady on the road had taken to him. He never stepped into their houses. So, Riva had a bed made for him in the street. He used to keep guard from there. He played with the children like they were his friends. And he was a confidante for the ladies whenever they stood in the street to talk. He was a part of the circle and used to listen to them with such serious expression that you would think he was interested in what the ladies thought of the new government or their jobs.
And his dramatics! Full on dramebaaz! Riva was out for a week once. He did not look at her for the whole day! Not even the biscuits could lure him. His highness only looked at her when he had to follow Riva out to the street end. He accepted some patting in return.
The dog did not stop accompanying her even when her husband was with her. Raj used to grumble about it, “Taking over my job, that bugger.”
Riva knew Bholu liked teasing Raj. One time, her husband was out in the garden, the dog sneaked in and took his newspaper. The soldier got quite the workout that day by chasing him around the street. And there were many such antics.
He was the life of the whole street. He dragged his bed here and there during the day. If someone had puja in their home, he would sit outside, graciously put up his head for the tika, and was the first to get prasad. Everyone knew to get sugar-free treats made for him. He would even bark happily at the intervals during the bhajans, contributing his music to the process.
People had all kinds of clothes made for him on special occasions. He would prance around whenever he wore something new, showing off to everyone and accepting petting in return.
Riva wished she could take him with them when they got transferred to Gujarat. But she found it unfair to the rest of the people on the street who loved him the same.
Raj asked her if she wanted to adopt a dog. But no one could be like her Bholu. And then she got pregnant, so it never came up again. Till they got the dogs after their children were born.
Still, Bholu held a special place in her heart. The dog who loved her first.
.
Koel smiled as she read the mail from her friend. This exercise was working better than she thought. It was bringing out pieces of her friend that she never thought possible.
Now, she understood her Riva's obsession with her dogs. She wished she had adopted one too. Unlike the hellion scratching her legs, “Go away, you!” The bloody cat gave her a haughty look as if she had disturbed her important session of sharpening her nails and went to Ashish.
He picked their cat up.
“I don’t know how you put up with her.” She pointed at the feline who had settled on her husband’s shoulder like a scarf.
He scratched under her chin, “How can you not? Just look at her cute face!”
She sighed at her husband’s grin and shook her head.
Fun fact, I have a Bholi of my own. She is a bitch from our street and definitely the inspiration for this one. She is a diva!
One day, we are going to collaborate on a story based on Kipling's poem GUNGA DIN. You don't know it yet, but now that I've put the bug in your ear, you're going to think about it, wondering how that could possibly work. Think Pundit, and puja, and British, and history, and we'll sort through it.