Unlikely Friendships
I woke up in the early morning hour that day also. There is still a lot of time left for the alarm to go off for my return journey. But yesterday evening’s event got imprinted on my brain — the lust in the eyes of the man who nonchalantly stared at my wet body as I was knee-deep in the holy river of Ganga. At the same time, I also remembered the fierceness with which three untamed dogs surrounded and protected me. I looked at the corner of the room and there she was sleeping peacefully in the once-upon-a-time bean bag. I calmed down. I was no longer the barely eleven-year-old girl with breasts who was molested by a salesman in front of her parents. As long as my Ammukkutty was there, nobody could touch me. I reassured my anxious part, but the soft part inside me ached realising that it was the last day with her. What has to become of her, and of me?
I do not know if I can call a friendship with a dog unlikely. But this story you are reading exists because of a dog. Otherwise, my story would have ended without anybody’s knowledge more than a year ago. I was an emotional wreck when I started for Uttarkashi. The long journey from Mussorie in the backside of a shared jeep knocked me down physically as well and all I wanted was a safe place to lay down. In my mind, I was still at that wayside eatery in Mussorie and the question from the man who served me food echoed — “What dhwani do you make when you feel pleasure intimately?”. Each sudden noise startled me and reminded me of the knocking on the door at my Mussorie Airbnb that night. I stayed indoors for two days after reaching Uttarkashi. My Airbnb was in a valley. On the front side of the house, there was a school ground and kids were playing there during the daytime. I got a glimpse of the beauty of the surrounding mountains through the window. Even that was not enough to convince me to go out.
On the third day, I had to rise as I was out of all the food supplies. I mustered up enough courage to encounter another human. I opened the door and to my surprise, there were no other humans, only a golden brown indie dog lying in front of my door, who promptly made way for me. Even with all the despair looming inside me, I couldn’t help smiling at her. She wagged her tail happily and sniffed at my clothes. We got acquainted. I am usually neither afraid nor overly affectionate towards animals. My introversion is quite general and applicable to every living thing. I don’t make an effort unless the other being comes to me. When I visited my host’s other guest house that same day, his dogs — Panther and Ubuntu immediately befriended me. It was rather quick and my host was surprised. Then I told him that I had already met one other dog in my place. He said that one was part of the gang. A friend’s friend is a friend; it was applicable to me and the dogs as well.
In the evening I ventured to hike up the pine forest alone. The villagers warned me that a leopard had been spotted recently there. Honestly, I don’t fear any other animals as much as humans. To my surprise, that golden brown indie dog followed me as we had known each other for years. My shooing away didn’t deter her. So we started our journey, I gasped for air and stopped frequently while climbing up, and she would wait patiently just ahead of me. If she even sniffed another human, especially a man coming towards me, she would bark with a ferocity that was so unlikely to come from a weak body as hers. We came back, I let her come into my room, fed her and she went to the corner of the room to rest. A bond has been established, without any terms and conditions, and only to have each other’s back out of care for another being.
In the days to follow, Ubuntu and Panther joined our gang. They would go after every bird they could find, play with each other on the sandy river bank, and follow and sit with me in our favourite grand rock beside the river. The gurgling water, the symphony of birds, and the rustling wind were the accompanying music. We would sit on that rock for hours. I admired those sunsets while they took naps. For someone who never felt a belonging among humans, I felt at home with these three dogs. That golden indie needed a name and as a true blue Malayali, I named her Ammukkutty. I later realized that she already had a name and it was Rinky. It didn’t matter to me. She would forever be my Ammukkutty. I was supposed to stay there for a week and ended up extending my stay for two and a half months.
I started therapy in the initial week of my stay there. My therapist told me that my intellect is fine with a “but”. A lot was going on in my mind and I did not heed her “but”. Some days I felt dissociated while hopping from one rock to another beside the river and I would end up falling. The gang of three would be immediately beside me with a look of concern. It felt like I was getting far from the real world. My life felt like a chapter from Jungle Book. The much older village women’s brazen question of whether I was a girl or a boy added to the fun even more. I also realised that my idea of my body and gender is becoming more fluid like it doesn’t matter what shape it takes anymore.
The seasons and landscape changed drastically over that two months. When I landed there, our route to the river was through the pitch green, wheat fields. Then it became golden brown and it got harvested leaving the land empty. The usually unpredictable dark stormy weather became frequent. Those days when I was in deep despair, I would start going deep inside the river. The ice-coldness of the water didn’t bother me. But Ammukkutty would follow me and she wouldn’t leave my side. She gave me a look as if saying I am going down with you. Both of us considered life to be a prison and death the freedom from everything. It was evident in our behaviour. But together, life was bearable, not otherwise.
The villagers were cruel to the dogs. One of the kids broke Ammukkutty’s hip with a stone. I tried to help her with some bandage, but it never stayed in place. The limp was permanent so I thought. One time I decided to walk to Uttarkashi town and she followed me with her limp many kilometres despite my stern warning. In between she got lost and I came back in a shared jeep. I was worried about her. After some time, I heard barking from outside. She looked at me with a glee that I hadn’t seen in her before. It made me realize that she was as happy about seeing me safe as I was with her. That utter delight in seeing someone you love safe and secure after hours of worrying — it was a first for me as well.
My health started deteriorating at a faster rate. I was not sure whether it was the antidepressants or trauma or the covid. It became obvious to me that I had to plan my return and it wouldn’t be wise to go back to my parents. All my wounds from childhood were made visible through therapy and I did not wish to see my parents. I was unsure of leaving Ammukkutty, but I also didn’t have any place to take her to. At that point, I thought I could always come back with a remote work option and settle down in that village with her. I knew that she was resilient and strong like me because we fought for our survival throughout our lives after all there was nobody reliable to look after us. Even though I was unwell, I made sure that she was fed well in those days. We walked to the bazaar, bought chicken and made broth for her.
I learned much more about behaviour from two months of stay with three dogs compared to 34 years of existence among humans. Panther, who was the oldest among three, was brought up by a Nepali family and was well nurtured and it reflected in his every action. He knows how to have fun, how to be stern and when to pick up a fight. He was the royal one and reminded me of a Lion, a perfect leader of the pack I was in. He treated me like the rest of the gang and I don’t think he had ever considered me as a human. I take it as an honour. Ammukkutty, like me, grew up neglected and carried a yearning for love and belonging. Her capacity to love was equalled only by mine. With deep sorrowful eyes, she would look at me and I felt seen for the first time in my life. Our souls are entangled in a way that is hard to explain to others. Ubuntu, the youngest one and the most fierce-looking one among the pack had been traumatised before he was handed over to my host. He was scared of everyone and preferred to attack with little to no provocation. Everybody was scared of him also. Somehow he made peace with me because he knew that there was a part of me that felt just the same way as him.
In those days, I reflected a lot on my own life and learned that my sense of feeling separate from others is because of my divergent brain. My therapist affirmed that there is nothing wrong with me and I only need to work on what she called “unbecoming” or unlearning the patterns that were essential for keeping me alive in childhood, but are impacting my life negatively in adulthood. It was a huge relief and I started reading about autistic life experiences. Suddenly my life made sense to me. It felt like I solved a puzzle that had been haunting me for an entire lifetime.
In the last few days, we played with each other and rolled in the grass like never before. The sunsets were glorious and the usual restless naughty beings perfectly posed for my photos and videos. On the last evening, I decided to take a final dip in the river. I was fully immersed in the cold water and was preparing myself for the goodbyes that were becoming harder with each second. The trio suddenly started barking like they had seen something dangerous. When I looked back a man was leaning on the big rock behind me as if there was no other place left in the vast river shore. He kept staring at me despite the threat from the dogs. I felt dirty and left the place immediately. I was shaking when I sat under a rock far away from the man. I wished the earth would crack and would take me inside just like Sita. At that point, there was no experience left in my life that was not tainted by the cruelty of men.
I got out of bed at 5:30 AM. When I looked through the window, I could see the trio plotting their hunt near my host’s house. I poured the remaining milk into her bowl and dipped the biscuits so that I could give them to her as soon as she was back. My Jeep driver was supposed to call me when they started from the town, but he called me after he had passed through the village. I had to beg him to come back and pick me up. In that hurry, I couldn’t say bye to anyone and my friends were nowhere near. Maybe it was for the best. I don’t know. I called up my host after I boarded the jeep and words failed to come out of my mouth. Somehow I ended the call by mumbling “Thanks for all the help” and tears started rolling down my cheek.
……..
A year passed after leaving Uttarkashi. I spiralled through different storms — two weeks of mental asylum, a second COVID-19 infection, getting separated from parents, friends who stopped calling, loss of cognitive and physical abilities that I took for granted and I lost track of the list of losses. One time my host messaged that she recovered from her limp and was doing well. I started taking care of myself better so that I could be with her soon. That became the only purpose in life.
I was growing restless in these summer months because of last year’s memories. I didn’t want to bombard my host with messages. So I kept quiet even though I was feeling something was not right. Even with all my rejection sensitivity, I messaged my host asking specifically about her. He replied, “I think the time you were here you were her anchor and source of love. She’s probably never known love that way, and she’s surely smiling down at you from the stars now, her spirit free”. He doesn’t know we were each other’s anchor and only source of love. A train of moments passed through my mind,
The doleful brown eyes she set on me when I was opening the door for the first time in two days.
When I froze seeing the wildfire garland on the mountains, she came and sat next to me.
Resting my head on her body and sobbing after a difficult session with my insensitive psychiatrist.
The joy on her face while running towards me after catching a bird from the bush.
The way we were both drenched in the storm and my unsuccessful attempt to dry her with the room carpet.
Scolding her whenever she left food in the bowl.
Telling the shop owner that she was mine when he tried to shoo her away.
Feeding her parle g biscuits because I did not know better.
The way she hurriedlcameme whenever I whistled for her.
And the last moment of seeing her plotting the morning hunt with Ubu and Panther.
I know I can go on and on. I remember her every day. I know that she wanted to leave this cruel world and I am not letting my selfishness think otherwise. If I ever get an option to be with her, I would choose that over the existence in this world. For the rest of the world, she might just be another stray dog who made friends with a human. For me, she remains the only source of unconditional love I ever experienced in this lifetime.
