Musings of a Wanderer

Thorns may hurt you, men desert you, sunlight turn to fog;
But you’re never friendless ever, if you have a Dog.
― Douglas Malloch

Tipu’s frenzied and loud bark would scare away the boys sent to catch me and get me back to school – a typical scene after my grandmother(lovingly, I called her ‘Amma’) would drop me at the school. Tipu, our pet, a medium-sized black Himalayan sheepdog, was my companion in crime. Tipu was known for his short temper and violent bark, but there were no instances of him biting anyone. With my siblings away in my maternal hometown to pursue their studies, Tipu was my only real friend and a sibling in a symbolic sense. Mother, being a working woman and father, posted in a far-flung mountainous region of our state; I was in the care of my grandmother most of the times. So, it was three of us musketeers-Tipu, Amma and self. In rural Himachal, those were not the days when children were admitted to school at the earliest eligible age; at least, I was not. I suppose Amma was in no hurry to expose me to formal education, and avenues of informal education were many.

I lived, experienced and savoured the simple, minimalistic and content village life. I would roam in fields with Tipu in the toe and see the crops sown, weeded, bloom and harvested. In summers, we would be in mango orchards tasting the best of the produce. Exploring the muddy meandering streams with our paper boats was our favourite pastime in the rainy season. Misty winter mornings were spent in the greens of sprouting wheat decked up with shiny dew drops. Springs took us through sprawling yellow fields of mustards to the sugarcane plots where I feasted on the sweetest of the cane. The beautiful balmy autumn was spent watching the leaves turn orange and the harvest of maize crop. Tipu would often follow me, but he had quite a real sixth sense – he understood the need to protect a five-year-old. Like an alert bodyguard, he would overtake me if he felt the need to check the area for any danger before I venture. Whenever the hill trails grew narrow and steep, Tipu would always lead the way. He chased away stray dogs, cattle and even potentially dangerous humans from my path. He identified the people I did not like very accurately. A friend of Amma regularly complained to her about my mischiefs, and I never like that. Tipu sensed the same and ensured that she could never cross the precincts of our house in peace. He would violently bark and chase her away. It was a Herculean task to calm down Tipu whenever she came visiting.

Close to my sixth birthday, it was decided that it’s time for me to commence the formal education. Being Amma’s favourite, studying in my maternal hometown was not an option. The government primary school in the neighbourhood was the next best option. I got admitted to the school, which was in poor shape. Heavily understaffed, there were only three teachers to teach primary classes, a single-storey block of classrooms was crying for maintenance and repairs, and there were no suitable arrangements even for students’ seating. At first sight, I wouldn’t say I liked the school, but the prospect of learning something new was overwhelming, and I accepted the way it was. Private English-medium schools had not proliferated the country’s rural landscape yet, and the situation in Himachal was even worse.

The Headmaster was known to my father, and he tried to make me comfortable, but I never liked him since he used his cane quite often on children. I joined the school with great enthusiasm, and Tipu, habituated to my company, started accompanying me on this new venture. He found a cosy corner for resting under the banyan tree in the school premises. He would spend his whole day there, waiting for the dispersal bell. My excitement was somehow short-lived; the routine, punctuality, rules and lack of independence coupled with a dreaded teacher were enough to dampen my spirits. I started looking for excuses to miss school, and sensing my lack of interest in a few days, Amma began to accompany me to the school. After assuring herself that I am comfortable and the first class of the day has commenced, she would walk back, leaving Tipu and me at the school.

One fine day my patience gave away, and I planned to give the teacher the slip. Collecting my school bag, I managed to sneak out of the class. Tipu, taking a nap outside, loved this pleasant surprise and immediately got up to accompany me, wherever I was planning to head to. His hurried stretch and an enthusiastic tail waging said that he’s happy that I won’t be staying in school for long. Tip-toeing quietly, Tipu and me managed to move around fifty metres from the school periphery undetected. Breaking the silence of a hot summers noon, I heard the loud voice of the dreaded teacher. He was calling out my name, and I, without looking back, got into a sprint, with Tipu leading the way. Enraged by the audacious escape of the rookie, the Headmaster mustered three boys to follow me, catch me and force me back to school.

Midway, the trio was able to catch up with me. They asked me to get back, to which I plainly refused and continued on my way. Irritated by my indifferent and intrepid reaction, one of them tried to hold me by the arm and force me to return to school. Tipu, a silent spectator till now, flew into the wildest rage and started barking at the top of his voice. Sensing that the dog is angry and may bite them, the arresting party withdrew in shame. I do not know what happened to them when they returned to school, but from that day onwards, Tipu became the talk of the town. The scene was repeated on a few more occasions, and finally, the teacher had to request my grandmother to ensure that Tipu does not accompany me to school, which she, half-heartedly, agreed to. Poor Tipu was put on a leash during my school hours. After a couple of weeks of struggle, I left that school for good and joined a recently opened private school. The school was far, and I had to travel by bus, and the chances of Tipu accompanying me to school totally diminished. Even being reserved with the display of emotions, he could not hold back his excitement on my return from school in the evening. He would vigorously wag his tail and would not leave my side till I go off to sleep.

Tipu was the undisputed king of our neighbourhood, and he loved his freedom and attention. A guard dog breed, he was not friendly, so not many people would pet and cuddle him. He liked it that way. One fine day, a neighbour got a pet of his own, a ferocious-looking, large-sized Gaddi Dog, Moti, and here started the war for turf between the canines. It had hardly settled down that a new contender joined the race, Bully. Seeing the ongoing tussle between Tipu and Moti, after weighing his options, Bully finally joined ranks with much stronger Moti. Being a new entrant mongrel, Bully was no match to the guile, ferocity and anger of Tipu and hence would avoid taking on him directly. Still, whenever Moti tried to pick up a fight with Tipu, Bully, like a conspiring teenager who could not himself get into a scuffle with a stronger opponent but would like others to do his bidding. Bully was happy to be a sidekick to Moti.

Noticing that the skirmishes between Tipu and Moti were growing fierce and violent, we tried to keep Tipu away from the sight of Moti. Moti being bigger and stronger, could physically harm Tipu, and the best was to keep him away from his adversary. But one fine day, Moti and Bully ambushed Tipu when he was en route fields with my grandmother. Tipu fought back bravely and scared the duo away, but in the bargain got seriously injured. He was bleeding profusely, and timely evacuation to the veterinary hospital saved his life. Tipu was back to his original self within a fortnight, but deep down, the injury had not healed well. Within few days, Tips’s health deteriorated, and visits to the doctor did no good. At 12, age was also not on Tipu’s side. Tipu finally was bedridden with failing health, and his drooping ears, limped walk and wet eyes said it all-the pain of an ailing being. No amount of medication, traditional or modern, helped. After suffering for about a week, on a sultry summer afternoon, Tipu, my friend, my saviour, my co-explorer, left us for his heavenly abode. Pained, I cried for days, helplessly. I think that was the first time in my young life; I understood the meaning of ‘loss’. I lost my best friend, and it was hurting, a hurt beyond words. Tipu is gone a long time back, but his memories linger on in my conscious, reminding me of the meaning of true friendship, loyalty and selfless love.