My Journey to Becoming a 'Good Man'

Sometime in the early 80’s, a sprightly 12/13 year old boy leaves home after coming back from school to go for the warm-up, practice and game session of basketball. So eager is he to get on to the court at the far end of Shivaji Park that he sprints across the park towards the court. En route he encounters, and deftly dodges, sundry leather balls that are flying all over from the various cricket pitches that dot the park. This is his daily routine. Except one sunny evening while he is on his usual sprint through the park, he hears someone panting and following him and it definitely doesn’t sound like someone on two legs.

The boy turns around and sure enough it’s an equally sprightly and excited Doberman. The boy panics. And in that panic forgets the cardinal rule that’s been handed down to him by wise elders and some know-it-all peers – stop running when a dog is chasing you! Instead the boy runs at an even faster pace, mistakenly thinking that he will outpace the Doberman! The canine beast (to a 12 year old, a full grown black Doberman does seem like a beast) also mistakes it for a game the boy is playing and doubles its pace as well. This goes on for about a minute or so during which time the boy has successfully claimed the title of the fastest runner around a cricket pitch in Shivaji Park! Fortunately the Doberman’s walker figures what’s going on, intervenes, holds the dog back by his collar and utters every dog-owners’ favourite line “Darna nahi, yeh kuch nahi karega.”

While the dog didn’t show much intention beyond just chasing the boy, the fact that he didn’t bark even once during the chase, made it all the more terrifying as at least the barks would have gotten the attention of his walker and the boy’s torture could have been shortened by a precious few seconds. It would have been at the cost of the imaginary fastest runner award, but between getting a chasing dog (and a Doberman to boot!) to stop and an imaginary award, the boy knew where his preference lay. Not blessed with clairvoyant abilities at that time, the boy wouldn’t know that playing the role of a coach Shah Rukh Khan would deliver a soul stirring monologue in Chak De about how 70 minutes could change the lives of his team forever. The boy didn’t need 70 minutes for his life to change forever – only one minute sufficed.

That 12 year old boy was me.

And that one minute would create a deep rooted fear of dogs in me.

I would start palpitating if I had to visit someone’s house that had a pet dog. I would insist on the pet being put on a leash or locked in another room. Unfortunately in the times that I grew up not too many people we knew had a pet. The reason I say unfortunately, in spite of the terrifying ordeal I had been through, is because I would have possibly overcome my fear much earlier were I to know many friends/families who had a dog. In our wonder years, having a pet dog at home was more like a luxury. Like a status symbol. Cars and dogs were best ogled at from a distance. They were not a typical middle class thing to possess.

As a result I spent the next four odd decades living in a morbid fear of dogs. To the few of them who had pet dogs and insisted “Yeh kuch nahi karta”, I would feel like telling them to just STFU. I would feel like telling them that it was me who had been terrorised for that one minute, not them. I would feel like telling them that it’s a line that sounds stupid to me because it isn’t they who have gone through the ordeal of being chased by an unknown beast.

Irrational as it may sound, over a period of time my fear turned into resentment for the canine species in general. I started detesting their mere presence in my vicinity. I guess that’s what PTSD is all about.

Having said that, I would like to believe that, in balance, I was/am a pretty accommodating guy. Always been one. Except when it came to dogs. That is where I drew the line. No dogs, EVER, in our home. Fortunately for me, the wife never really insisted on having one at home. Or let me put it this way, I was first off the blocks in making my distaste for dogs so evident that she felt it wasn’t as big a battle worth fighting for. After all she had/has been otherwise winning quite a few wars with me - hands down! (Details of those are never going to make it as a newsletter.)

I would also like to believe that I am a very loving and doting father. We have a lovely daughter who we absolutely adore, and so does she in return. They say that all your firm resolutions melt when it comes to what your kid wants and desires. In my case, I didn’t relent even when our daughter would constantly keep alluding to having a pet at home.

As a compromise alternative, around 10 years ago, I gave in to her entreaties when it came to adopting a tomcat from a litter that had been delivered in her school. The understanding was clear – the cat would be it! No further sentimental requests, no emotional blackmail about getting a dog at home. (We got an initial taste of the lengths to which she could go to, to get herself a pet dog, when she started dropping lines like “I don’t even have a sibling to play with (sob … sob).”)

I kind of created my own logic of ‘plants and animals need to grow in the open’ and that by having pets we would actually be stifling their natural growth and instincts. I thought I had sealed the matter for good. That was till 2019. Almost four decades later, I guess my trauma still gnawed at me.

But kids today are made of sterner stuff. Once they set their mind on to something, they know how to get their way. As the saying goes “Ghee agar seedhi ungli se na nikle, to ungli tedhi karni hogi” which roughly and very badly translates to “Where straightforwardness has never a chance of working, crookedness flourishes”. So my daughter planned and connived.

Normally parents are happy when they see that their kids have loads of friends. Even we were. Until we realised that our sweet little kid, who was growing into a fine young girl, had secretly plotted with her friends to get them to ‘gift’ her a dog on her birthday. Mind you, she wasn’t so brazen as to demand her gift. Only strong hints about how much she loved dogs were dropped every now and then to her friends for a few months leading up to her birthday. Which became a no-brainer for them to collect contributions for a common gift instead of breaking their heads on what to gift her individually. By doing this she ensured that her parents, especially me, would not be able to refuse a birthday gift, and she would finally be having a pet dog of her own. That’s how Kenzo came to be a part of our family.

Our family is now a tomcat called Oreo, a Shih Tzu called Kenzo, some sundry indoor plants pottering about in various parts of the house … and oh yes, a few humans too. Any more living and breathing entities enter our household for keeps, and we will be frontrunners for the Gerald Durrell “My Family And Other Animals” Award! (Hope you didn’t miss ‘indoor plants’ in the previous sentence. That has been one of the hands down winners for the wife - more like a stealth attack than a war, that completely blindsided me.)

Kenzo celebrates his 4^th birthday come June 1. It’s been 4 wondrous, wonderful years that he’s been a part of our family. How time flies! I will be honest, the first couple of days were quite difficult for me even though Kenzo was no bigger than my forearm. I kept my distance. But it wasn’t to last too long. Soon enough, and sure enough, he had me wrapped around his paws. I have no qualms in admitting how wrong I was in not just fearing, but actually detesting, dogs. I kind of curse myself at having lost out on so much undemanding and easily forgiving love and attention that only a dog can give.

Thanks to Kenzo, my fear and loathing of dogs is now non-existent. In fact I loathe myself for thinking and behaving the way I did.

There isn’t a moment in the day when Kenzo’s presence, physically and even in absentia when we are out of home, is not felt. The smallest of things he does. The tantrums he throws. The attitude he gives. The mischief he is up to. The sly stealing of socks that he loves. The midnight snacks he demands. The stress he feels when there is stress at home. The unbridled joy on seeing us return home even if it is for a short stroll downstairs. The prompt steal-and-dash that he does of our daughter’s slides the moment she is out the door (probably his way of feeling her presence next to him while she is in college). The sad face he makes on being (mock) scolded – especially by me. The habit of acting all cross when something he wants doesn’t happen the way he wants. His total lack of control when it comes to anything food – that is the time all grudges are promptly forgotten. All our stresses and our tensions melt away on seeing Kenzo run up to us when we return home after a long day, or even a short one for that matter. It’s like he knows he is the antidote for everything that is wrong and toxic with the world. He will do it in his own way - jumping, squealing, tail wagging - but he does it for sure. There are just so many things, so many moments. So much to cherish.

Having now reached a stage where I can’t even begin to imagine our home without Kenzo, it forced me to think - why was I so opposed to having a dog at home in the first place? Was it just because of my traumatic experience all those years ago? Or was it because I feared getting emotionally involved and invested in them? I think it’s more of the latter.

I tread extremely cautiously when it comes to emotional investment. Setbacks early in my life from people I trusted implicitly, and the occasional experiences in professional life have ensured that I am always guarded in my response to overtures. It’s an acquired skill for me, as by nature I am very trusting. But having been bitten more than once - more so metaphorically, but having come close to it literally once (or so I thought at that time), I have had to always force myself to search for/see an agenda when someone is sweet or friendly with me.

With dogs it is different, though.

I have now come to realise that there is not a single bone of malice in dogs. They only know how to give. Abundantly. Unconditionally. The trust they have in you, and the faith they bestow upon you is implicit. They are all in. Without any agenda. I know there is nothing new in what I am saying. It’s just that it’s been cathartic for me … experiencing it first-hand. And that is what I think leads to an over involvement or emotional investment in them.

Having experienced Kenzo’s undemanding love, knowing him a little better and being totally comfortable around and about dogs, I think that ‘beastly’ black Doberman may have actually wanted to play with me all those years ago. And silly me took it as an attack waiting to happen. From a place of wanting to hit a dog parent on hearing “Yeh kuch bhi nahi karta” to me now spouting the same line to every guest who comes home or every stranger who steers away from Kenzo when he is down for his walks, life has come a full circle.

It would be unfair on my part to be writing about our four-legged family members and not write about Oreo, our tomcat. He is the polar opposite of how Kenzo is. The differences are stark - when the doorbell rings Kenzo runs towards the door, Oreo runs far away from it. And this is just one example of it. Oreo is an aloof touch-me-not, hug-me-not, love-me-not character. He will be in his own corner in deep slumber, wake up, have food, do his daily ablutions and go back to sleeping. It’s been ten years, but there are still some friends and relations who have probably never seen him as yet. He will give a vibe of not caring about anything or anyone as long as he gets his fix.

But even he has his own way of showering affection - sometimes by siding up to you, sometimes demanding to be given a place to squat on your lap, and occasionally mock attacking to drive home his displeasure about something. He seems to have some kind of a karmic bond with the wife. Every time she suffered from serious migraine attacks, she would lock herself in a room that would be darkened to avoid even basic daylight from aggravating her condition. This could last from a few hours to even the entire day sometimes. Oreo would be right next to her all through her ordeal. He. Would. Just. Be. There. It was his way of absorbing the negative energies to try and alleviate the wife’s migraine is what we learnt. He wouldn’t even demand his meals (and believe you me he can get very demanding!), and in fact leave them untouched on many an occasion.

If you are wondering how Kenzo and Oreo get along, then Bono summed it up best when he sang “I can’t live … with or without you.”

The wife and our daughter have been doing a fair bit of reading into understanding the psyche of the canine species. The wife has also done a course in animal communication. And it is fascinating what one gets to hear and know about them.

The biggest revelation has been that it is the animal that chooses you, not the other way round. We can only be glad that Oreo and Kenzo chose us. I will not blame you if you find what I have just mentioned a little hard to accept / believe. All I will say is that the more you get to know these lovely creatures, the more you will realise that they were meant to be with you. How else do you explain the fact that amongst the many that may be up for adoption (and in their infancy they all look the same, I think), there is THAT one that your eyes settle on and connect with?

As part of the learnings from the animal communication course that the wife did they were also told that each pet has a particular role to play in our lives. It could be anything - from bringing joy, to alleviating stress, to making a family complete, to giving and receiving love.

The wife has remotely communicated with cases of dogs that were referred to her and has been able to pass on their messages to their parents. Without getting into details all I will say is that the findings were astounding, and more importantly were corroborated by the parents of those dogs. And when we did the same by asking another animal communicator to check on Kenzo and Oreo, the kind of things he told us about them shook us with their accuracy. It is like they know about, and pass on vibrations about things that we feel they will never even know or be able to comprehend. It is their sixth sense, and it is a pretty strong one at that.

In what can be counted as one of the best Hindi series in recent times, Paatal Lok (Prime Video), there is a beautiful touch they have woven into the script on the impact a dog can have. Though it happens unknowingly to the protagonist who essays the role of a journalist, an almost involuntary reflex action of him petting a dog leads the hitman who has been assigned to eliminate the journo to question his master’s intent behind ordering the hit. The broken English words of his master that the hitman remembers as he witnesses the journo petting the dog are

“When dog love man, he is a good man. When man love dog, he is a good man”.

Yes, it's the same me who used to be afraid of, and detest, the mere sight of a dog.

This, ladies and gentlemen, has been my journey to becoming a good man.

Be braver. Be kinder.

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The review this time is of a movie that is titled after dogs, but has nothing to do with canines. The (recent) dog lover in me often wonders about the origins of the Hindi word for dogs being used in a derogatory manner. But that’s another topic altogether.

Someone told me that I was being generous in my rating of the film. Maybe it was my affinity for dogs that subconsciously surfaced. Maybe it was Tabu.

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Arjun Kapoor and Kumud Mishra are two corrupt cops (Mishra being the slightly reluctant one) who cross paths with an ageing don (Naseeruddin Shah, wasted), another corrupt cop (Tabu, saving grace), a Naxal leader (Konkona) and a whole bunch of other shady types. Basic plot is that Kapoor and Mishra find themselves between a rock and hard place and have to resort to plan a heist on a security van to be able to pay off to stay alive and retain their jobs. What ensues is a bloodfest in an increasingly convoluted plot. Directed by Aasmaan Bhardwaj (Vishal Bhardwaj’s son - we now have nepotism in direction as well that has helped the son land the biggest names in the acting department to star in his debut outing), what is meant to be a dark, comic, thriller that is inspired by the Tarantino/Guy Ritchie/Sriram Raghavan schools of filmmaking, Kuttey is neither sufficiently dark, nor is it a thriller and, save for a few laughs, misses on the comedy quotient as well. It’s a try hard at best, where instead of a bark it all ends in a whimper.

Kuttey | Hindi | 108 mins | Netflix