Three Black Spots

What’s in a name?

Vaidyanathan was one of the most talented musicians creating jingles for TV and Radio commercials in Bombay. I got to know him quite well, and he invited me to his home. Two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom, close to Chowpatty Beach.

Both rooms were taken up with 8 giant cages, each housing a giant monkey. Monkeys from the ‘hood. He had either caught them, or enticed them with food from the Hanging Gardens which was their natural stomping ground.

I was introduced to them. ‘ Kamakshi, Kalyani, Sundaravalli, Tilottama, Alamelu, Dhanalakshmi…’ he rattled off their names. I was in hysterics. Here were monkeys with the most traditional South Indian Brahmin names, names that I associated with quite a few cousins back in Madurai. They sat quite contentedly in their cages munching fruit and nuts in great quantities. Vaidie was quite successful, and he spent most of his money feeding his brood. Much of his time was spent cleaning the cages. The neighbors were constantly on his case.

Mina who is the real animal lover in the family had a wonderful time with the monkeys, feeding them, and talking to them, until she was overcome by the smell.

In India we name our dogs with great gusto. The plain bread and butter names are Raja, Rani, Tommy, Candy, Moti. Men with big moustaches call their dogs Colonel, or Brigadier. Arty ones call them Brando, JD and Einey ( after Albert). Globalization has brought in Tiffany, Rolex, Einstein and Dollar.All Punjabis give their children a nickname – Lovely, Sweety, Tony, Dimple, Rosie, Bunty, Bubbly. Their dogs have names in the heroic mold. Harminder, Rajinder, Ranjhha.

Yoda’s name has been through many iterations. Yodie-Pop was first. And we used to sing it to him…..Yodie Pop Pum Pum Pum Pah…You make my heart go giddyap…..

Soon Bollywood took over. Everyone began to call him ‘Hero’. It’s the affectionate name you give a ‘comer’, someone who has not yet made his bones, but has great potential. And Yoda seemed to have the swagger – a kind of Michael Corleone in Godfather One- or the young Amitabh Bacchhan in Dewaar. If we allowed this theme to persist , his name in the middle years would have been ‘ Boss’ and now he would be called ‘Don’.

In France he is ‘Mignon’, or ‘ Chien magnifique’. In Italy he’s been called ‘ Cani a Mano’ with the appropriate gesture of the fist. In Spain he is always ‘ Perrito’. In the US he is always ‘Hi Puppy’. And in Bombay when he sits dog like, on his haunches and looks off into the distance, we call him ‘Kuthra’ which just means DOG.

We are what we eat

French women don’t get fat. Neither does Yoda. They eat small portions, they know when to push the plate away, they walk a lot and drink lots of water. Yoda is svelte, and has never had to worry about any flab. As a victim of the Atkins, Low Fat, South Beach, Low Carb and other wars, I can only look on with envy and despair.

We Indians tend to feed our dogs what we eat.

Vegetarian families have vegetarian dogs. As a concession to their carnivorousness, the dogs sometimes get eggs mixed in with their rice. Bread and milk is a staple, and there are many variations of vegetables along with chapattis and naan, I once saw an Alsatian belonging to a South Indian family gulp down a hearty meal of idlies, and sambhar. I don’t think chutney was on the plate, but it would not surprise me.

In non vegetarian families, chicken cooked with veggies is par for the course. No beef or pork, unless it is one of ‘those’ families. Non spicy curry, Sunday biryani and on very special occasions, lucky dogs get chocolate bars, gulab jamun, or mishti dohi. Enough to make a vet blench, but our dogs seem to thrive.

George wanted us to give Yoda dog food that is well rounded nutritionally. This was in the days before Royal Canin had made their entry into India. We always caused a bit of a stir at Bombay airport, when our luggage arrived on the belt. One carton of 5 pound bags of kibble, one case of 24 cans of wet food, one bag full of treats and chewies, one carton of three months’ supply of paper mats, and our own bags . Mercifully we always found bemused Customs Officers who let us go through. We had to put up with much rolling of eyes, though.

George had given us a potted course in Dog Anthropology. Dogs were cave dwellers, and always liked to cuddle up in enclosed spaces. They turned around at least three times, and scrabbled before they sat down anywhere. To avoid getting snake-bit. And, they were used to grazing in the wilds. There was no meal time, there was no one to feed them. They ate as they went.

So, Yoda was on a ‘demand feeding’ regimen. His food was always laid out in a bowl, and we trusted him to eat to live, and not vice versa. We have seen too many dogs (and cats ) reduced to a frenzy as they wait for their food to be laid out. Not so with Yoda. We trusted him to eat wisely, and he repaid our trust. No pig outs except when there is roast chicken on the menu. Then all bets are off.

Yoda began to develop a skin rash. George was categorical. ‘I think that he has a wheat allergy. Let’s try him on some food without any wheat’. Easier said than done.

We read labels in the Pet Store as avidly as the most dedicated carb haters. Dog food packaging contains lots of fine print, and we squinted, moved our eyes close to the pack, moved the pack near the sun, and on one occasion used a flash light to read the contents.

Any hint of wheat, and we ruthlessly eliminated that brand.

We found the perfect match. Non allergenic, wheat free food, for toy dogs! Long live market segmentation. So we fed all our wheat filled food to the stray dogs that hang out on the streets outside our home in Bombay, and restocked on the new food.

George then upped the ante. ‘Yoda would do well with some home made food . You can be sure of the ingredients, and it would be good for him’. Magic words that spurred Mina into action. Now, Yoda had a rice treat with green peas and chicken for us to carry on our travels. A small freezer bag with his cooked food, Tupperware full of his kibble, a bowl for his water, and a ziplock bag with his treats.

‘Yoda is getting older now. We need to add some Chondroitin and Glucosamine to his food for his joints’. I mastered how to pronounce these words and went off to the health food store. ‘Are you having trouble with your joints?’ ‘No, it’s for my dog’. Strange looks, and end of conversation.

Many years ago, one of Yoda’s sitters in Cleveland used to bring him a treat of Pig’s ears. Cured and dry, not wet and dripping. Yoda loved these things and used to reduce them to a mushy pulp, sitting in a corner of the hotel room. Soon there would be an aroma of pig ear all over the room, and Yoda’s face would turn brown. Yoda always needed a full grooming after every trip. And we made sure we never got the same room the next time we were there. It probably still smelled of pig’s ear.

It will not come as a shock that Yoda is a picky eater. There are days when I feel that I should stand solicitously over Yoda’s shoulder, menu in hand, and ask him what he is in the mood for this evening. If Mina has exerted herself in the kitchen, I will even have a bunch of specials to announce. I can see him look up at me with his ‘What me worry’ expression, and ask if the chicken is free range, or free roaming. In the winter, I am sure he will ask for extra truffle shavings.

There is only one thing I am not sure I can cope with. It’s the day he asks for the wine list

Tarot Cards

I love Citibank. No, I am not shilling for them, they do very well on their own, or not so well if the latest headlines are to be believed. They have a nice habit of inviting us to some interesting events that have nothing to do with banking. Vivek was on the phone. ‘We’re having a tarot reading with Sunita, and we’d like to invite you’.

Our first reaction was Naah. Tarot reading on a weekday morning seemed a bit over the top, even for us. We were not sure that we wanted a reading, even though we believe in astrology.

And here was the deal breaker - who could we find to baby sit Yoda? ‘ Bring Yoda along’. And so off we went.

Sunita is one of Bombay’s Page Three celebrities, with a regular newspaper column, and TV show. Like all bold faced people, she has a very hyper handler. ‘She is particular about whom she sees. She will only see two people together, if they are husband and wife. She has already refused to see mother and daughter couples this morning. She wants you to come prepared with the main questions you want to ask. She will absolutely not stand for a dog to come to the reading. It will spoil the space’. All this delivered to us at 120 words a minute.

Vivek is a great sport, and he gamely offered to baby sit Yoda while we went in. Investment bankers are a very hardy breed these days. Mina and I are great believers in asking, and we got the handler to go in and check with Sunita.

He came out in disbelief. Yoda was okay. She would be happy to have him sit in. Obviously children were not okay, but dogs were. Already we were excited about meeting her. Sunita is a stylish young woman, with great flair, and a very warm heart. Her table was decorated with flowers, oil lamps flickered at various strategic spots in the room, the lighting was subtle, and a suitable sense of drama and serenity oozed all over the place.

We went in and sat down, ready to fire our questions away at her. And, she had eyes only for Yoda. The pooch has a great sense of timing, and he went over, sat beside her, rested his face on her feet, and went off to sleep.

She then turned to us, asked for our business cards, saw the name ‘Lotus’ and told us how much she loved our bookshop, and how sad she was that we had shut it down. Not an auspicious start to our reading, we thought.

‘Cut the pack of cards. Pick any 7. Give them to me. And ask any questions you want’. Many questions later we stopped, conscious that our time had run out. We were in mid crouch, getting ready to leave, when she reached down, picked up Yoda. There was a sense that ‘You’ve had your fun, now let me have mine’.

And so we sat and told her Yoda stories. His travels, what he eats, his bows, his carrying case …..she found every detail fascinating. We then asked her how Yoda would fare, health wise. She gave us a brilliant and confident smile ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be fine’ Her parting shot was ‘Anytime you decide to re-open your bookshop, I’ll be glad to come and do a reading. Just call me’.

The Yoda magic had worked again.

Much of what Sunita has said made sense, and has come true. And Yoda, touch wood, is doing just fine.

Hund Taxi

Growing up in India, in the days before TV and international media, my major window to the outside world was National Geographic magazine. Our school library got copies every month, and I think we had bound issues for the last fifty years. Pages full of big breasts and pendulous earlobes - perfect for teenagers in an all boys boarding school. I also remember breathtaking pictures of the Rhine.

In college, I took German in my first year. Didn’t feel I was ‘la di da’ enough to do French, and I thought that my Tamil accent would do well coping with guttural Deutsch . Our professor Simone was one of the most interesting teachers at Elphinstone. Her favourite phrase was ‘You sanguinary ape’ as we muddled through our pronunciation and grammar. It took me a while to look up a dictionary and figure out that even if I was no ape, I was forever hopeful.

Between NatGeog and Simone, Germany made a lasting impression. I always wanted to go on a Rhine cruise, climb up one of the forts, and walk by the waters of the Rhine. So, here we were in Assmanshausen (I didn’t make up the name), and finally my dreams were about to come true.

Assmanshausen has two things going for it. It’s a prime candidate for Letterman, who seems to love the word Assman. And, it’s close to the enchanting legend of Lorelei. Until we found out that the Lorelei was an ugly misshapen rock.

The Rhine is best viewed from afar. High on a hill top, a glass of crisp white Riesling in hand, looking down on the river on a day with enough sunshine and mist for drama- that’s the way to do it.

Up close, it is a mighty force of polluted brown water, rushing past, with a non stop stream barges taking their cargo down to the South of Germany. The occasional tourist boat lazed st, and we could hear the guide giving his spiel. Every Rhine cruise is at least four hours long, and we decided that we could not bear more than 15 minutes of sailing on these waters. We had also never taken Yoda sailing, and did not want a seasick dog on our hands.

The Rhine really comes alive at night. There was a fort opposite our hotel, and we could see its lit ramparts from dusk to dawn. The restaurants and bars also closed late, and we could hear the sound of beery Germans as they staggered past our windows. Very gemutlich.

One night, I woke up at about 2 am to the sounds of pop music going full blast. I thought that it was the disco next door, but the sounds seemed to come from the water. I ran out onto the balcony, Yoda beside me snapping at my heels, and saw this huge Rhinefahrt boat with colored lights rushing past our window, with lots of people dancing. Who were the revelers? BMW salesmen? Retired bureaucrats from the Asian Development Bank? Never found out.

Every evening, we would walk past the bars on the main street, carrying Yoda in his case, his head sticking out, hair mussed up by the wind, as we headed towards the restaurant we had chosen. The first day, there was a group of very happy people sitting at tables on the pavement. I heard them giggle as I walked past, and the words ‘Hund Taxi’ were whispered, not so sotto voce. My one year of German, and thousands of comic books where people snarled Schweinhund at each other, came to my rescue. And in an instant, my purpose in life was revealed to me. Yes, indeed, I was the Dog Taxi.

That evening, as we wound our way past the same group who were in a much happier state by now, I stopped, and pointed to Yoda sitting in his Louis Vuitton bag. I mustered up all my courage, and said ‘Hund Taxi nein, Hund Rolls Royce’. They did not lynch me, the did not jeer me, they rose unsteadily to their feet, and applauded. Was it the wine, or admiration of my pidgin German. No question, it was the wine.

That night, it was Hindi-German Bhai Bhai all the way.