Three Black Spots

Pedigree

Mina’s family is trying to reconstruct a full family tree. It’s an interesting process, since it sometimes involving turning over rocks that are best left undisturbed.

One of her grand aunts from her mother’s side of the family achieved a certain notoriety by claiming that she had been the mistress of George V, known in India as Puncham George. Since it could not be disproved, in Rumsfeldian logic, it must have been true. No invitations to tea at Buckingham Palace or weekends at Sandringham have been forthcoming, but the tale has made its way down generations.

I have been always careful in making enquiries about my own family tree. My mother once warned me off any discussions about a few uncles, and I took the hint out of sheer self preservation. I am content to claim that I am an Iyengar Brahmin, finest kind, and I look very priest-like when I wear the caste marks on my forehead. Once again, it has never got me any mileage, not even Fast Track admission into a temple.

Yoda has a distinguished family tree, with a certified pedigree from the American Kennel Club. There are so many ways that he is one up over us. He is an American citizen, and his mother, three grandparents, and four great grandparents were Champions. No wonder we tread so softly around him.

It was great fun re-reading his Pedigree. The language is Shakesperean- the father is Sire, the mother is Dam, and he was whelped on September 7, 1994.

The names are a total delight. They span the entire spectrum. The mundane include his father who was Special Delivery, his paternal grandparents who were Properly Packaged, and Design’r Edition. The blithe names were Never Say Dye, Devil May Care, and Come Dance With Me. The politically incorrect one was his great grandfather Chu Chu Char-Lee Chan. They might as well have called him Ching Chong Chinaman. And the disgusting piece of treacle was Sen-Chu-Us-Sweetie.

I’m sure that each of these dogs had a different street name. I can’t imagine anyone yelling ‘Properly Packaged, stop that’ or ‘ Design’r Edition, come and get your kibble’. When I compare these names with Yoda the Wise, which is his formal given name, a warm feeling of superiority comes over me. What a great name, how appropriate, of the moment, and yet timeless. We’re so good, we’re baaaaaaaad.

Yoda’s great grandmother is Skruffy of Mini Muffy. Presumably there was a mini Muffy one generation before, and perhaps a Muffy too, but the AKC does not delve that far back. Instant Karmic circle. To have a Muffy as a forebear and as a friend today is too trippy for words. How Hindu can you get, and don’t forget that Yoda is from Illinois and Muffy is from Russia. Time to put on the Michael Jackson video and sing ‘ We are the world’.

With all this pedigree, how come Yoda is not a show dog? Why did the breeder not keep him, and win best in breed and best in show all over the country. We compare him with the Shih Tzus we see on the Westminster Dog Show, and he is the champion hands down. No doubt about it, to our unbiased minds.

It is a humbling thing to read the book on breed standards. ‘the body between the withers and the root of the tail is somewhat longer than the height at the withers’. Shiver me timbers mate, what are they talking about? The trained eye of the judges is able to spot deviations from the standard, and that makes the difference between the dog who is just representative of the breed, and the winner. It’s not just about beauty. Temperament and intelligence too must be on display.

It’s a good thing that we don’t have to be judged by any standards. Look at how many of us fail the BMI. Imagine how many more of us would fail the IQ and EQ tests. When the Martians take over, and cull the human race, you can see them making three categories ‘ Not quite human. Barely human. Good human’. I’m not taking bets on which group I will be herded into.

Any time we watch a dog show on TV, we put Yoda on the sofa beside us, and keep up a running line of patter. We recount his pedigree, we tell him that he is the greatest dog on earth, and we are careful not to over applaud, especially in the Toy Dog section.

One day I will persuade the Kennel Club to start a new category. ‘Dogs who have books written about them’. Yoda will be a shoo-in for the competition. Whether he wins or not, will depend on how well I write. The pressure, the pressure!

Dum Maro Dum

In the 70’s Dev Anand and Zeenat Aman made a bell bottomed Bollywood blockbuster set in Nepal. The title song was ‘Dum Maro Dum’ – a paean to Nepali green. We all had fantasies about Nepal, home of Mount Everest and poppy fields. Kathmandu was like Xanadu, favorite destination for hippies from the West, and casino seeking businessmen from Delhi.

I had just returned to Bombay, Mina was still in New York, and Yoda was very glad to see me. I decided to take him with me to Kathmandu for a business meeting. I bravely told our travel agent that if he could not go, then neither would I. Good news. Nepal had no quarantine, the airline accepted dogs in the cabin . Bad news the hotels did not, good news my colleague Padam invited us to stay in his home.

Royal Nepal is a whimsical airline. They handle flight information like state secrets, and passengers are not on the need to know list. Padam had an old classmate who worked in the control tower at the airport. He would call Padam the moment the plane took off from Kathmandu. Padam would call me, and I would set off for the airport. It was like the samizdat, our own private information channel.

The plane left Bombay at around midnight, four hours late. So, who was counting? Yoda was at my feet, no one was sitting beside me, I had eaten well, and the plane was on its descent approach. The pilot made a terse announcement. ‘There is fog at the airport, and no visibility. We are being diverted to Delhi’. My only reaction was- at least it’s not Calcutta.

Yoda was fast asleep, and content to leave matters in my hand. I began a gentle inquisition of the flight attendant. How long did she think we would wait in Delhi? Till the fog lifted. When would that be? Not before 9 the next morning. What would we do till then? Wait in the lounge. What would they do? Go to a hotel. What would I do about my dog? No reply.

The lounge at Delhi was overflowing with people. Jayanand who was traveling with us fought his way to a couple of seats and corralled them. Yoda woke up, took in his surroundings and decided he was best off asleep in his bag.

Everyone made a dash for the café in the lounge. We managed to get a couple of tandoori chicken sandwiches, Jayanand washed all the masala off for Yoda, we got a couple of bottles of water, and were all set. Yoda woke up, got fed, got walked, and seemed in far better shape than we were. He was in CEO mode, he had delegated to me the task of getting us to Kathmandu, and he was not going to micromanage.

The next morning, a planeload of hungry people boarded. We were promised a piping hot breakfast. We sat on board for a while, and I overheard the captain mention that the fuelling trucks had not yet come. The airline was behind on its payments, and they were negotiating another extension of credit.

Strange and wild thoughts go through your head at times like this. Do you take up a collection? How much would fuel cost to fly to Kathmandu? Should I feign a heart attack, so that they would have to offload me? Would they allow Yoda to disembark?

I suggested to the purser that the natives were getting restless, and could they serve us breakfast before take-off. It would buy them at least 45 minutes of peace. The captain agreed and soon we all had piping hot trays. I began scarfing down my omelet, when without any notice or announcement, the engines started up, we sped up to the end of the runway, made a wheelie, and took off. I had to assume that we had refueled. Optimism is always necessary. We got to Kathmandu about sixteen hours after we left Bombay. I could have flown to New York in that time, but I would have missed all the drama.

That night, Yoda discovered sweet corn soup, and he loved it. Was it the primordial taste memory of Chinese food? He even drank it slightly warm, something he never does with other food. Was it fortification against the cold temperatures in Kathmandu? He licked his chops, searched out each kernel of sweet corn, and chowed it down. Did he know that Tibet and China were just a hop skip and jump away?

On our way back, Royal Nepal cancelled all its flights to Bombay. I think they knew I would be traveling. Padam’s airport friend managed to get us the last two seats to Delhi, Yoda flew for the first time in the back of the bus, and soon after take off fell in love with a flight attendant and nestled on her shoulder all the way back. The pooch always manages to travel first class!

When I got back to Bombay everyone at the office asked me if I had fun in Kathmandu. It must have been so peaceful, so relaxing. I winked, mimed inhaling, and whispered ‘ Dum maro Dum’. I wish.

The full Gooch

When Hamid Karzai became the President of Afghanistan, he was not lauded for his leadership, or his statesmanship. The most complimentary words came from Tom Ford, he of the full Gooch fame, hailing his look. What incredible combinations of brown, gold and green. The long shawls, the headgear, the regal gait, and the saturnine face with the noble bearing. For a while it looked like Kabul chic would sweep the runways.

Six years later, Karzai is still President. And still perhaps the nicest things people can say about him have to do with his look.

We are what we wear. We are what we look like. Nobody knows this better than Mina, and no one gets more attention on his outfit than Yoda. It seems that there are two ways to construct a look. Either be so different and ethnic, that the only PC thing to do is to admire it. Or, go with the brand names.

It was obvious that Yoda could not go the Indian route. No tie-dye bandanas, or zari encrusted leash/harness combos. No ‘pink is the navy blue of Jaipur’ confections. No kanchipuram-sari patterned coats, and no chiffon and sequin bows. He is not from the cast of Monsoon Wedding.

And so, we turned to Fifth Avenue. First came his carrying case. Mina began her research before he was born. The case had to conform to airline mandated dimensions. It has to be sturdy, and soft, so he would not get battered about. It had to be small enough for him for now, and big enough for him to grow into There are some excellent cases that would do the job functionally, but only one that would also make a style statement.: LV of course.

So, before we went to get Yoda, we embarked on the carrying case hunt. The LV store in Manhattan did not have them, but they were willing to call around their other stores. We were told that they were made in small quantities, usually on order, and never available off the shelf. Still, they would try. We were not given much hope. Mina was distraught, but determined.

The next day, we got a breathless call. They had found one in Dallas, Texas and it was on its way to us. When it arrived, it was marked Rodeo Drive. Strange and mysterious are the ways of package shipping. No matter, Yoda now had a case from the coast, and we could go off to get him.

I think the LV company should pay us a small promotional fee for all the publicity we have given them. The most common comments we have heard go like this ‘ I wish I could travel in style like this dog’ and ‘ Now my husband can’t say no when I want an LV handbag’ .

The next to come was a coat for the winter. Who else but the finest purveyor or raincoats for humans – Burberry. I love watching good sales people in action. They are great listeners, and they know when to pounce. When we asked for a coat, she produced not one but two. The warm coat lined was for the cold weather, and another lighter one for the rain. We were assured that the raincoat was specially treated so that water would slide off. We emerged triumphant, armed with both the coats.

People tried to deflate us. ‘Why does he need a coat, when he already has such a rich coat of hair?’ ‘When will this dog be ever out in the rain? Are you going to take him out in the monsoons?’ We have been considered shallow and wasteful, and some people have been kind enough to tell us so.

Small people will never get the big picture. There are needs, and then there are needs. The internet has truly been our downfall. We are now one click away from nirvana. And so there is a steady stream of bows, leashes, harnesses, bandanas, dog houses, blankets, grooming stuff, and toys that keep landing up at home.

Not all of them are famous brands. No matter, they look like they could be. Mina has a great eye. Like Karzai, we have learned that it’s more important to look the part. And in Yoda’s case, he also plays it well.

Does Yoda care? No, he does not. But he is conscious that when he steps out, he has a certain something extra. Does he know what it is? No, but we do. And they do. And that’s all that matters.

King of the world

When I was ten years old and living in Trivandrum, my favorite hang-out was the USIS Library. The USIS was the American bulwark against the forces of communism- the perfect product of the Cold War. None of that mattered to me. The Library was my entrée into another world, where the streets were paved with gold, buildings rose out of the ground like rockets, and neon filled the night sky.

Every once in a while, they would organize a cultural evening, to share with us how the real America lived. It’s where I first learned the word hootenanny. We were given sheets with the words, and one song that I learned has stayed with me all my life - ‘ Home on the Range’.

Give me a home, where the buffaloes roam……each of us needs our one place on earth, where we feel free. Its more than Lebensraum, it’s the place where we know that all will be well, and our entire being can flourish, unchallenged. Yoda’s spiritual home is at Nandgaon, our beach house down the coast from Bombay.

As we drive down there, we can feel our own city stress ebb, and Yoda’s excitement rise. We come down the last curve, make our bumpy way across the dirt road leading onto the beach, and Yoda is up against the window, doing his jig, jumping from one side of the car to the other.

Yoda is home, and this is the one place on earth where he is King and Alpha Dog all rolled into one. He will not listen to anyone, or anything. He is more Master of the Universe than any Wall Street bond trader. We have to do his bidding. Sleep when he wants to, rise when he does, go walkabout when he scrabbles at the door, and settle down when he is sunning himself. One day I’m going to hand out ‘I’m in a Nandgaon state of mind’ T shirts with Yoda’s picture. Billy Joel would understand.

It’s the only place we live in that is traffic free, so he can roam the garden to his heart’s content. Every plant must be sniffed, every blade of grass inspected, every tree scratched, as he slips into gentleman farmer mode, and walks the grounds. He goes up to the gardeners and circles them as they do their work. As he walks off, you sense that he has mentally evaluated them, and will tell us what their next raise should be.

We take him with us to the fishing village, where Mina buys fresh fish from the market. She has her preferred ‘fish-wali’ whose daughter also lives in the US, and they discuss the challenges of long distance relationships, and the cost of phone calls. Yoda is careful not to go up to the fish basket – no fishy smells for our boy. The fish-wali is ever delighted to see him, and when he is there, we either get a special discount, or some extra fish.

For a while we used to run sprinklers in the garden. It’s a wonderful sight, standing up on the deck, watching the water whirl around and catch the sun. Yoda once ran into the garden at sprinkler time, chased the water round and round, had a ball, and came back to us wet and brown. It took Mina over an hour to dry him, and then comb out all the mud. It was the first time I have heard Mina swear at him, but no worries mate, he was at Nandgaon and home on the range. Nothing was about to faze him, and no one could rain on his parade.

Over the last fourteen years, Yoda has become a well known and well loved figure in the village. We venture into the village to visit the Ganapati temple, he sits in the car with the driver while we go in, and we bring out some Prasad for him to eat, and kum-kum to put on his forehead. I suspect that the priests would not mind if we took him in to get blessed by the Gods, but we also know not to push our luck.

The owner of the nearest gas station is a lovely Parsi gentleman, who once refused to give Jayanand gas until he went back home and brought Yoda back for a bit of loving. No one has ever denied me gas unless I showed them my pretty face. Au contraire.

Our deck runs all around the house, and we can see down to the boundary wall and the sea beyond. We often joke that it is a bit like the Papal balcony, and we have mimed in a non-blasphemous manner John Paul raising his hands in benediction gently murmuring ‘ Bene, Bene’.

After we saw Titanic, a different image comes to mind. Yoda standing on the deck, windswept, handsome, yelling ‘I’m King of the World’. All it needs to complete the picture is a canine Kate Winslet, hanging on to his neutered soul. One day, Yoda, one day.