Today is for the animals - those wonderful sweethearts who choose to be in our lives!

Hugo’s India

- By Reshmi R Dasgupta,
the middle in today’s TOI

Coming to India for the first time is an overwhelming experience for anyone. So it has been for Hugo. More so since it’s been accompanied by several other firsts: the first trip abroad and the first flight. Once he arrived in Bangalore, there have been other surprises too. The problem is, there’s not much we can do to forewarn him. Hugo is a big, golden Labrador, you see. As such, he’s rather ill-prepared for India since he’s lived all his seven years in London as a typical English dog. He’s used to long walks on the Common, hobnobbing with assorted canine companions and the odd horse or deer. He eats only dry dog-food. He displays desi bad manners like drooling and begging only at home, that too when his India-resident relatives descend on London in summer.

This summer, Hugo’s in India and it’s quite a culture shock. He’s used to seeing brown faces at home and white outside. Now there’s hardly a white face in site. Worse still, no one speaks English in quite the same accent as Moon and Nayana, his two ‘sisters’. To add to his woes, the staff don’t speak in the only Indian language his ears are accustomed to – Bengali. No wonder he’s gravitated towards the English girl who’s staying next door, like a long-lost friend: a familiar face and accent he understands. Till he picks up Kannada and a taste for curd rice, Henrietta is his link to a world he has left behind. He’s like one of those lonely English memsahibs who came to India in the 19th century and confided their impressions to their diaries.

Hugo can’t keep a diary or else I would love to know what he thought when he saw his first Indian cow on the way to town from the airport. His ‘mom’ Ruma says his ears drew back, his tail went down, his usually wide eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed. Hugo’s also astonished by his country cousin, the stray dog. They seem to have no human companions, no leash or collar. As for their language, the less said the better. The other day, as Hugo was examining a car tyre intently, one such creature jumped out from underneath and berated him in a most unseemly fashion. His English sensibilities were outraged. Other surprises lurk. What on earth is that revolving object on the ceiling, for instance? Why do cars honk so much? Hugo’s face is one perpetual question mark. What does this English dog make of India?
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Was thinking of my sweet cat today and felt guilty for having somewhat neglected him recently. Was too caught up with life to pay attention to him.

And I thought, my Mom’s life was terribly complicated as I grew up. She probably just didn’t have the mental space to deal with me. I should be more understanding.

Animals always teach us something, don’t they? :)