Cadbury was a wandering orphan pup. She adopted Nikita and came home with her. A truly loving and gentle soul, she became the soul of the household. A bit timid, she got scared of the street dogs around . Her unconditional love, her warm welcome at our own home made it feel like heaven. Super crazy and a foodie she loved well cooked chicken and if you have one in front of her, she will sit, stare and make a tiny crying sound, which made it impossible for someone to enjoy the meal without giving her a bite. The best mate who emotionally healed and took all stress and worries out of the house. Immensely playful who loved to play with ball, toys and cushions. Her loss was a grief which took a long time to heal and after her there was no other pet to replace her.
Too much love! Everyone was horrified as Nikita came home from college. Her sister, her two brothers, her dad and their faithful Ramu Kaka who was serving them since past 40 years. Nikita was here for vacations as she stayed in the hostel in the hills away from family. They all were looking forward for her spending time with the family, but when she entered, the family instantly wished she had not come, as she had company. She came with a basket which was firmly held in her hand and her suitcase was lying unattended near the front gate on the porch. The basket contained a living animal. Nikita’s dad and elder brother were furious. Their unanimous thought was ‘how dare she carry an animal home without even asking them?’ Her sister and younger brother were still gaging the situation, and not revealing their true emotions. Ramu Kaka was extremely upset. All the combined anger could not do anything much except some scolding, much fuming and then Nikita took the basket to her room. The flashback was that one evening as Nikita was lazing around the hostel garden, a tiny pup hopped and sat on her lap without a warning and licked her face. There was so much love and adoration in the little being that she smuggled the puppy into her hostel room, without bringing it in the notice of the authorities. Soon the hostelers fell in love with the puppy named Cadbury and everyone participated in hiding her from the hostel matron till Nikita could get her home in Delhi. So here they both were. In a few days, there was a 360-degree change in the family’s attitude towards Cadbury as the ‘animal’, slowly found the way and made home in everyone’s heart. The cute little two-month-old puppy was an adorable little being. White fur with brown patches, soulful brown eyes and the face as innocent as can be. She made the hearts melt with her expressions which even Gods cannot resist, leave aside a human. Steadily Cadbury, rechristened as Cadu for ease and convenience was the soul of the house. Nikita took care to train Cadu to go out in the small garden to relieve herself, not to bark unnecessarily, eat dog food from Pedigree, sleep on her blanket even if it was on Nikita’s bed etc. Everything was going well, but then the vacation time was over and Nikita had to return. Now the onus of taking care of Cadu rested on her elder sister Sunita. Sunita was more than happy to take care of Cadu, and slowly she spoilt Cadu as rules were blurred and Cadu cuddled in her blanket to sleep with her, woke her in the middle of the night, could not stay away from her room and all the wishes were granted. Even when Sunita’s fiancé visited and stayed for the night, Cadu slept with Sunita in her blanket…Ouch! The entire schedule and the whole household were now in sync with Cadu’s moods. Time passed and in the next two years, the younger brother left home for higher studies abroad and Sunita got married and moved to Jallandhar. Now Cadu was left with Nikita’s dad, elder brother Abhishek and Ramu Kaka. Now, there was another 360-degree shift. Abhishek was now Cadu’s best friend and Ramu kaka who hated the idea of keeping a pet was the ardent care taker. Abhishek played ball, took Cadu to the dog grooming salons and bought her designer collars and coats for the Delhi winters. Vet visits were scheduled and those days Abhishek would miss office and business meetings. Whatever Abhishek was doing for Cadu was great, but nothing can beat what Ramu kaka did! He, being a brahmin, who will not even touch eggs, started getting chicken, mincing and mixing it with Cadu’s
food with his own hands so that she can relish her meals. Realising that Cadu required her daily dose of meat, he broke his vow. Unbelievable! Cadu took the most special place in his life. He took her for the daily walks, and when he went to the nearby dairy to fetch milk for the house, one cup of ice cream was fixed for Cadu. These rituals were never missed. In fact, everyone in the neighbourhood knew her and the family house was now called Cadu’s house. Cadbury was so full of energy and so playful that it was impossible to keep the zesty being low. There were cushion fights with growls, chasing the rolled ball, snatching the rubber bone and everyday there was a new play invented to keep the playful doggie happy. Then there was an emotional blackmail where Cadu will sit near the drawer which stored all her dog treats. A small moan and cry with moist eyes and an absolutely innocent face was enough for anyone to open the drawer and give her a treat. One was never satisfactory for her and then she wanted another and it went on till you don’t distract her with something more interesting. Cadu was now 11 years old. She often required medical attention and Abhishek was looking after her like a baby. She used to recover but not for long. Every day was a new struggle to keep her as the family knew her, playful and happy, but she started getting weak and then one day Sunita and Nikita received a call one by one from him that Cadu has left them for her heavenly adobe. It was a very sad day, week and month for the family where visuals of her memory haunted each one. Ramu kaka did not eat for a week in grief, as he could not get himself to have a meal without feeding Cadu as he always did each day for the past 11 years. The house was not the same. When Nikita or Sunita and her husband visited, there was no one running ecstatically to the main door, jumping up and down in anticipation or licking their faces and hands lovingly as they entered. There was a void. A void which could not be filled. Slowly with time they compromised with time and with a heavy heart they gave away Cadu’s bowl, toys, collar, coat and her favourite blanket full of her hair and fragrance to the boy who lived on the street and looked after stray dogs. The family had only one wish that Cadu’s soul finds peace. SMRITI AGARWAL
Mr Soumya Mukherjee is an alumnus of St Stephens College and Delhi School of Economics where he was supposed to have studied Economics.He, however, did not let studies interfere with his education. Currently he is a gentleman at leisure but till recently earned his daily bhat mach by working for a PSU Insurance company, and lectures for peanuts., He is addicted to the printed word and has been devouring it since learning to read. In whatever time this leaves him he pursues his other passions, family,films,travel,food,trekking,wildlife,music,theater,and occasionally,writing. He has been published earlier in TOI,HT, Express,Hindu and other lesser known papers and magazines.He is currently trying to learn the ropes of tech challenged blogging. He has published what hopefully is his first of many novels,Memories, the hilarious nightmare of growing up.
The delinquent He was orphaned soon after birth and abandoned at a construction site, left to forage for scraps at an age when infants aren’t even weaned. He had nearly starved to death when rescued by a kind hearted and eccentric good Samaritan and taken to a shelter, the sole survivor among his siblings. There he was fed intravenously as he was too weak to survive. He didn’t understand and thought that this was another form of torture,perhaps like the construction workers did for their own amusement and to relieve their own frustration, while they kept him alive throwing scraps at him, for which he had to fight with his siblings to the amusement of the workers. This part is purely a figment of my own imagination and unlikely to be true. For poor people in India are far more generous and kind than the privileged entitled class. What actually happened is that the Samaritans provided cerelac for the pups, something that the workers couldn’t offer their own kids, and I’m not sure how much would have reached the pups. In the shelter too the older inmates didn’t tolerate him, and he had to scrap way outside his weight class to survive among the hardboiled crowd.
For his own safety he was kept isolated in a tiny cell, a cage really, and under a great deal of medication, as he had picked up most of the infections in the book. As he became a little better a foster home was found for him. But his ill luck continued, and his foster parents returned him to the shelter soon as unsuitable for adoption, again barely alive. In the meanwhile a retired couple suffering from empty nest syndrome was told about the shelter and had come to see the inmates. They had never adopted an orphan before and were rather apprehensive. But the lady had stipulated that you cannot see the orphans and reject them, as if they were merchandise on display. All the other inmates were too old and our hero was the only baby there. The couple were looking for a girl child as they had daughters and always had female pedigreed pets at home. It also didn’t help that he was no sweet tempered angelic baby with melting eyes and polite endearing manners but a scrappy aggressive little runt with a suspicious and belligerent look about him. His expression wasn’t pleading but challenging the visitors to pick him. The lady had grave misgivings about having a young boisterous undisciplined male at home, and the gentleman was worried about the sores on his body and the and the bald patches in his hair. But he launched himself at the gentleman, climbed up on his shoulder and clutched on fiercely. No one had the heart to leave him behind, and once again he had a new address, the fourth in his brief life. The old couple had a spacious two story house with airy verandas, wide driveway and adequate gardens with trees . After the confines of his cage, this was heaven. He went completely feral, living like a wildling in the garden, coming indoors only for meals and to sleep. The lady kept a very neat house, everything spotlessly clean, and neatly arranged in its appointed place. This became history because the little ruffian tracked mud all over the house, turned the knick knacks topsy turvy, broke everything breakable within reach, and generally created mayhem.
His toys were scattered everywhere and he was soon bored with them, preferring the packaging they came in and empty cartons and carry bags. He refused to sleep in the cot waiting for him, on the bedding provided, but insisted on sleeping in some dark corner. He hated bathing and grooming, and when cleaned up despite vociferous protests, returned to his dirty scruffy self within moments. He demanded attention, affection and petting as a right, and his play was mostly fighting and and racing, which completely exhausted the elderly couple. He was completely allergic to discipline of any kind. Plenty of good food, exercise, and medical attention soon made him a healthy strapping young fellow, extremely energetic and boisterous. His hunger seemed insatiable, perhaps the memory of the earlier periods of near starvation, and he gobbled his food to prevent anyone from snatching it maybe, although there was no one to do so. This did not help his fragile health, but later his body adjusted to this. The other major risk to his life was his belligerence, as he was desperate to scrap with the tough street gangs in the area, and challenging huge brutes four times his size. He survived probably because they were too surprised to react fast, by when his much suffering foster parents would whisk him away The other peculiar habits probably came from insecurities, as he hated to be alone in a room at any time of day or night, and would nap clutching on to either of his foster parents. His biggest grouse was that he wasn’t allowed in bed with the adoptive parents, and protested by retreating into some nook carrying some items of their clothing or bedding to clutch, and hiding their slippers. This major disruption completely shattered the peaceful calm of the well earned retired life that the couple was looking forward to, after decades in a high pressure and hectic working life. This fellow reminded them of the superstar of their youth, the angry young man, who didn’t pick up fenke hue paisa.
Once, scolded for one of his many misdeeds, he sulked by refusing to come indoors all night. Usually, to protest any scolding, he would run away with a cushion, newspaper or slippers or something But this attitude can also be endearing, and the indomitable spirit of the underdog with attitude has it’s own charm. Today the rascal is the boss of the household and the couple have decided that sacrificing the peace and quiet and the spotless orderliness of their home and lives are a worthy sacrifice for the company of their new demanding and disorderly child Note . Coco is a rescue dog from a shelter, an indie SOUMYA MUKHERJEE The pup
She first came home In a small shoe box On some cotton wool And some old socks She would lap her milk And soon grew up And ran all over A sprightly pup She would steal sweets When no one looked And look blameless When she was booked When mom was away She would get into my bed As this was banned As my mom saw red When she jumped off the bed I could guess that Mummy's coming this way And I would start Putting comic books away And start home work When I came from school She would jump at me And lick my face And run with glee She would steal my socks And slippers too And chew them up To make some poo When I got married She didn't like my girl Like a jealous girlfriend She would bark and snarl I loved her so And then one day She was no more I cried and cried
Though I was a big man then And boys don't cry Leave alone men I can never forget My small best friend But like all great things There has to be an end SOUMYA MUKHERJEE Pet Peeve
Hello guys my name is Boozy. it is a Royal privilege for you all to know me Because I am royalty. I am a Lhasa Apso. Legend says that my Forefathers were a royal gift to the king of China. Later a few of my ancestors were also gifted to some American travellers by the Dalai lama himself. I am originally from Tibet where we lived in palaces and monasteries. We were trusted the duty of guarding these magnificent places and humans. My name translates to the “barking sentinel lion” and you see that describes me pretty perfectly. I am highly intelligent, totally independent, regal looking and practically untrainable unless you have treats. You see even the Kings have weaknesses and I am not ashamed to admit that I will follow you to the heavens and back for one of those “ Jerhigh” treats that mom keeps for me. She knows she can get me to obey her with these treats when in reality I just pretend to ignore her and engage in all sorts of mischief until she gets tired and pulls out one of those boxes and gives me a couple. Yeah, yeah, I know she thinks that SHE is the one training me but now you know. In truth it’s pretty difficult for her to train anybody. She is a very confused mom. I have heard her yelling at times at my dad and sister, telling them that it was them who wanted to adopt me and therefore it is their duty to take care of me and yet every single day she takes me for walks and feeds me. I just follow her around. Sometimes She does get tired and wants to rest. I follow her around a little more on those days and she eventually gives in and takes me out. She is my human.. It does not matter who decided to get me or wanted me, it’s pretty clear who I choose to be with and that is all that really matters. She probably lacks the intelligence to know it but that’s okay. Now let me get to the important part, my role. You see my mother has been scared of dogs all her life. She is still pretty scared of all the street dogs and the huge pet dogs who come around to say hi to me when she takes me out for walks. It is not a big deal though.. I keep barking at full volume to tell them that they are not welcome around my mom especially if they are a large breed. My mother does not understand this. She keeps telling me that I am foolhardy and stupid. She will even try and save “Me” from those other dogs. You see how hilarious it gets. Her being the “scaredy-cat” trying to save me “The Lion”. I sometimes wonder how she can be so blind but then you humans are a funny species.
One day she got mad at me because I was asking for food. I went to her when she was working on her laptop and looked straight into her eyes. When she looked at me I went and sat at the kitchen door. Did she get the hint: No! I then took my feeding bowl and brought it to her. Did she understand? NO! I started banging the bowl on the ground repeatedly. She still did not get it!! Oh, you thick-thick woman! I barked in my head and then I started nipping her hand. That got her attention. She ordered me to stop biting her but you see now it was my turn to pretend that I couldn’t understand. “Two can play a game” I thought so I continued attacking her hand Until she went in and got my treats. Voila! Then as I was munching the treats I realised I was already full. That is when it struck me – I had already finished my lunch. Oh I just forgot you see, she could have just reminded me.. I guess she loves drama. Let me tell you about the people who come into the house. They are of two kinds. Some that I really like and others that I really do not like. Now I am not an introvert dog who keeps to themselves when the category II of people arrive. I like to make myself heard loud and clear. This bothers the family a bit.Well, sometimes it bothers them a lot. I understood that when they began locking me up in a room. The room is big with an access to the balcony but hey! A locked door is an unacceptable thing. I tried my best to chew through the door. What is a door anyway? A lot of thin pieces of wood and mica, right? Slowly after lots of scratching and chewing,, the door began to come down. I was spitting out the thin layers and attacking it with a vengeance. It’s the most fun I had had in a long time. I got excited and started barking more and more loudly. I knew it was going to come down pretty quickly. Just then the door was unlocked, and it has not been locked on me since then but never
mind if it ever is again, I’m just going to make a dog door through it. I am pretty sure Momma knows. She must be catching up. She does not let me run to catch any squirrels anymore. That happened after the day I rolled in dead squirrel remains. Mom give me a bath thrice – the horror of it! Since then just a tug on the leash as soon as I am getting ready to catch a squirrel reminds me of what is in store and I relent. Well, even if you are royalty you have to succumb to mothers I guess. I think I have talked quite enough today. Alright alright one last confession – there is a stick that they have in the house. No – it’s not for beating anyone. Mom takes it with her when we go out for walks to keep the other dogs away from me. But you know what? She does not know that it is not a stick. It’s a sugarcane that has been in the house for years and it got dried up. It was only when I had finished half of that stick that she realised what it was! It was yummy!! Now she does not let me have it. That is a pet peeve of mine. Nothing much of it is left anyway. A little sweet never hurt anyone. Call her up you guys and support me in getting back my stick please. I am sure you are all fabulous dog lovers. Thankfully she is not so particular about her rubber bands. I keep finding them everywhere around the house. It is lovely to nibble on them. It is even more fun to have mom chasing me around the house to get them back. Sometimes we even play tug-of-war with them What does she do with those Rubber-bands? Sometimes she will wash them, sometimes she will throw them after I have nibbled on them but there are a few instances when she really did not know that I had found them and off they went on her ponytail – right on top of her head. It seemed like poetic justice – finally I know where my place is. Right on top of her head is exactly where I belong. She loves me, frets about me, feeds me and keeps me safe. She is my absolute favourite human and She has no clue how much she loves me.. Don’t tell her that though. She’ll just say I’m her daughter’s pet. I’m actually HER baby and that is a secret she doesn’t know yet. TARISHI CHAWLA
Mr Vikash Gangwal is a young man in his mid-40s working in an MNC company in Kolkata. Born in Rajasthan and lived in West Bengal, he has a blend of two cultures. Vikash is a Chartered Accountant and a Company Secretary by education and a IT consultant by profession. Vikash builds on his beliefs and respects his relations to the core from his core. He is associated with many philanthropic activities, socially very active and supports a culture of writing from heart. A poet sometimes, a father of two beautiful kids, a loving husband, a dutiful son, a caring brother, Vikash tries to play all roles with equal honesty. He likes Amitabh Bachchan in Bollywood, listens to old Hindi sad songs of Kishore Kumar and romantics duets of Mohd Rafi and Lata Mangeskar, likes to watch IPL and play chess with his son, Armaan, in his free time. He reads books with his daughter Ashna as she has a great interest in English language and its comprehensiveness.
MAY DOG BLESS US ALL I still remember that night very clearly. The night when I got terrified, mortified, horrified, petrified and what not. 10th January 2014. It was a Friday night and I was travelling by a white Ambassador car from Jaipur to Sujangarh in Rajasthan for a marketing deal. Being in Sales role, travelling was a routine business affair for me. After my day job in Jaipur, we, Deepak (my cab driver) and I started around 8 PM IST amidst the yellow electric light throughout, in the pink city. Work fatigue along with cool breeze immediately kidnapped me with an instant nap on the back seat. Suddenly, I heard Deepak calling me, “Sir, shall we eat something? There is a very good vegetarian Dhaba nearby”. Without second thought, I agreed. While Deepak was talking to me, turning backwards, he didn’t realize that a truck was coming from the opposite end and before either of us could sense the danger, boooom !! I remember my car toppling couple of times before I was thrown out of the car by the momentum. I could barely breathe, could hardly see anything and a continuous thudding sound was playing in my ears. I tried to open my eyes and move my leg in a void attempt. I failed in both and I laid there; don’t know for how much time. An unfamiliar sound broke my unconsciousness. I have never met him earlier in my life. Sonu was trying to grab attention and was yelling at highest volume. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Sonu. He was running frantically here and there, wishing some help can be brought. Nobody came. After almost every single minute, Sonu would run near me and see if I was okay. During that period in Rajasthan, it is cold. And that was a highway, passing through a rural zone and during January nights, not many vehicles used to ply. I was neither thinking of my death nor about how to survive, as my mind was completely blank and senses totally numb. I was building on just one belief – Sonu will get me some help somehow. He was my only visible savior around. After a while I was able to hear all sounds clearly around me. The sound of blowing wind, sound of leaves whistling, and suddenly I felt an agonizing pain and I realized that I was lying in a pool of blood. I saw Deepak inside the car, not moving a bit. With great effort, I moved my head and saw the surroundings. It was a straight road with trees on both sides. One of the car lights was still on and it gave a clear look of the road ahead. There was no presence of any human habitat. Sonu was running back and forth in such way that he was out of sight when he used to run behind me on the road. And every time that gave me a sensation in the spine, thinking that I am left alone and then he would be there, back, yelling and that gave me a sense of presence of life around me. The swap of emotions between the two situations was so fast and frequent that it gave me more mental fatigue than the injuries physically. With pain increasing and eyesight getting blurred again, I collated all my strength and shouted, “Help !!”, “Help!!” and the night echoed my voice even on a flat land. Hearing me shouting, Sonu stopped for a moment and then suddenly he ran towards the road where the car’s flash light was still reaching out. And he was gone. Disappeared in the dark beyond the light. I felt like a boy who was wishful to win a race but fell on ground midway and could not even complete it and also like a hungry man who managed a piece of bread after prodigious efforts and just before he was about to eat it, a crow flew in and snatched it from his hands. I turned to be a cynic in a ziffy and started thinking of all those events/actions that I missed. The journey from a
warrior to a worrier was instant. I was not thinking on any effort which could have saved my life. Somewhere my heart wanted to think on the possibilities of survival if I have any but each time my mind would take control and make me more negative in my thought process. After a while I heard a very familiar yelling voice again. It was Sonu running towards me. Sudden smile came to my face seeing him even in that dubious situation . Pain was all gone momentarily. With my one hand, I brought Sonu’s face near mine and kissed him. Then I saw a vehicle approaching my accident site from the direction where Sonu came from. The jeep stopped near me, checked on me and Deepak, collected our belongings, took us with them in the jeep. I knew I was saved when later I opened my eyes and found myself on a hospital bed. Did Sonu bring them to me? Later, I was told in affirmative by the hospital authorities. I was not worried about status of my health. My eyes were looking for Sonu everywhere. Where is he? I wanted to see him before me, beside me. After a week or so, I was released from the hospital. When I was going out, I saw Sonu waiting for me outside the hospital gate. I requested authorities to stop and let me meet my savior. They generously agreed and immediately, I had put my second request on the table. Can I take him with me to my house to be with me, beside me all the time? They said it was purely my decision if I want to do so and Sonu was mine. At home, Sonu used to watch TV with me, even saw news on TV with me and yell at specific people whenever they used to be flashed on screen. Seems he had his own political belief understanding the true nature of few of our politicians. Sonu had become my life partner. We used to go for walk together, eat sitting together, play together and my healing time was spent fully worthy with Sonu. He used to be very caring about me eating medicines and drink water regularly. I was so mesmerized to see how he could understand my needs so quickly and yet so perfectly. May be GOD blesses them with this great capability to befriend humans. Sonu was a DOG but no less than a GOD that night for me. And even after that, a true friend for a very long time. Sonu stayed with me for almost 4 more years. When he was destined to go away and leave me alone again, I was mentally not ready for it at all. I felt a similar vacuum inside me, the way I felt it lying in a pool of blood on that empty road that night. Suddenly life seemed tough again and loneliness again a curse. Sonu gave me many perspectives in life that changed its direction. Why we, human beings, don’t do something just for others, without the slightest expectation of getting something in return? Why cannot we as human beings be so selfless as Sonu was? Why do we not live with other fellow beings as a caring friend as Sonu did? How many times have we waited outside hospital for a week, genuinely worried, when our close relatives were inside fighting their own cases? Why do we not let our heart take command over our materialistic mind? What do we do, even today, when we see an accident on road – bring help or run away unnoticed? I do not know whether Sonu was a dog or God sent him to me that night to give me a direction for introspection. But what I do know is that “GOD bless you” and “DOG bless you” are two blessings / wishes which if a human being understands and be bestowed with, his life can change positively and also that of those around him as well. If we imbibe the selfless traits of a dog in our lives and in our relations, God will bless us more. May DOG bless you !! May DOG bless us all. VIKASH GANGWAL
EDITOR Ms Neeti Parti is an educationist, a prize-winning poetess and writer, an exhibited artist, an editor, an RJ and a television artist. She was the Education Director of a renowned chain of schools. She has received the ALS INDIAN WOMEN ACHIEVERS AWARD 2021 FOR LITERATURE, ALS BEST EDITOR GROUP ANTHOLOGY for her book ‘COLOUR MY WORLD GREEN’, BEST NEW EDITOR AWARD from Impish Lass Publishing House. GOLDEN STAR Citation and award 2020 at the Literoma Literature Festival, Kolkata among several laurels. She has contributed to more than forty anthologies and edited/compiled seven. She is a keen environmentalist associated with many ‘green causes’ and loves nature photography. She believes: ‘When the Universe smiles, a child is born, nature’s greatest tribute to itself!’
FOR THE LOVE OF HOBBES An uncovered terrace on a blue whitewashed house Tied with a string, unhappy and pining for home Time was of the essence as, ‘Soon he should be found Or be lost for ever’, said the dog whisperer The whole town, the community, dog lovers Concerned friends and relatives all came together The photocopier churned out scores of images Teams spread themselves out in concentric circles Three frantic days and nights worth of effort For the love of a furry friend who had endeared himself to all Increased pressure on the kidnapper made him reveal the location Hobbes came home! Champagne cork flew up and bounced against the roof As collective cheers of joy resounded within the living room Vanilla flavoured cake was cut while two paws rested on the table ‘Welcome Home Hobbes’ read the yellow letters on the cake But the rough and uncaring treatment took its toll His health started to deteriorate, his pain he could endure no more Peace awaited him and he left this abode Creating a special place in our hearts where he lives now and forever more! NEETI PARTI
(Founder & CEO The Impish Lass Publishing House) Ms MEENA MISHRA is an out of -the box-thinker, inspiring hundreds of students, teachers and working professionals across the world, turn into published writers and poets. She is an award-winning author, poet, short-story writer, social worker, novelist, editor, an educator and a publisher. The Impish Lass Publishing House is her brainchild. Her poems, stories and book-reviews have been published in many international journals and magazines. She is the recipient of several prestigious awards. She is an active member of Mumbai English Educators’ Team and was invited by the Education Department of Maharashtra to be a part of The Review Committee for the new English text book. She has been invited as a judge for several literary competitions and lit fests including the Lit fest of IIT Bombay and NM college fest. Her poems are published in many magazines, including the prestigious periodical Woman’s Era. She has been a contributing author and poet for more than 100 books. Her books include- The Impish Lass, Emociones Infinitas and Within The Cocoon of Love. Currently she is working on her 4th book that would be a collection of short stories. Her contribution to the field of education and writing has received acclamation from the esteemed newspapers like Times of India and Mid Day. Her articles are published in Times of India’s NIE and a suburban newspaper and leading educational magazine of the country- Brainfeed Higher Education Plus. She is on the mission of publishing the articles of students and educators of various schools across the globe under her unique project, ‘The Young Bards’. Her autobiographical novella, The Impish Lass, has been converted into a web-series and can be subscribed on YouTube.
Under the banner of her publishing house ( The Impish Lass Publishing House- Mumbai ) she has successfully published more than 200 books in 3 year’s duration apart from The Young Bards- book various editions for students and teachers .More than 500 writers across the globe have received an opportunity of becoming published writers and poets under this banner. Recently published books ‘Cascades- Treasure Trove of She was invited to share her views by Sony TV for their first episode of, Zindagi Ke Crossroads, based on needs of special children. She was recently invited by the “AajTak” news channel to express her views on the special episode on the PMC Bank scam victims. She had written an exclusive poem which was read and appreciated by the living legend of Bollywood- Amitabh Bachchan. She has been the recipient of Wordsmith Award- 2019 for her short story , “Pindaruch,” from the Asian Literary Society. She has received many awards in 2020 for her contribution to the field of education and literature. She has received ‘ Most Outstanding Teacher of the Year Award,’ during World Education Summit in Feb-2021. Her poems have been translated and published in Spanish magazine. As a publisher she believes that EACH SOUL THAT WRITES HAS THE RIGHT TO GET PUBLISHED.
Motiyaaaa A wise man once said that a dog’s eyes are the most eloquent in the world. The large, moist eyes are mirrors, constantly moist with emotion. With these thoughts in mind, TlIL ran out on the road, behind her grandfather. Her eyes were sparkling with joy, and her cheeks were flushed with the usual summer excitement. Her hair flew behind her, and a wide smile covered her face. “Come, bitiya, come!’ called grandfather, as TIL nodded excitedly. “Grandfather, where is your special friend?” asked TIL, tightening her grasp around her grandfather’s wrinkled fingers. ‘’Wait. He’s going to come right here,” answered grandfather, reaching into the pocket of his white, baggy kurta and drawing out four chapatis. Almost automatically, a sudden barking sound resonated around. TIL heard a shuffling among the bushes; and almost instantly, a beautiful dog with bright, golden fur emerged. He had large, moist eyes and a subtle smile on his face. While having lunch and dinner, her grandfather used to offer naivedya ( a morsel of food offered to God to thank Him) have his food and leave some food for Moti. Before washing his hand he would call out at the top of his voice, “Motiyaaaaaaa.” Moti always responded to his call. He would emerge from wherever he was, and would rush to greet him. Looking at Moti having his share with utmost pleasure and satisfaction , he used to wash his hands. Moti used to accompany her grandfather to the pond where he would take bath. In the Month of
May, during summer vacation even Til was a part of this gang . Going with her grandfather and bathing in pond was fun for her. She enjoyed playing with Moti . Grandfather told her that Moti’s fur was brushed with stardust and moondust. Truly, Moti was a magical dog. After her grandfather’s death, Moti refused to have food. He used to search for him everywhere in the village. Every day he visited the pond and waited for him there. TIL , who was now a mature eighteen year old girl, would rush to Moti and try to feed him. She fed him the best of foods, but he would refuse. It seemed as though Moti was dying a slow and painful death. Soon, his body no longer bore the strength to stand upright. He fell to the ground, his tail limp, and his fur cold and lifeless. His eyes were devoid of emotion, and his bark was barely a whimper. As the priests read out prayers for the peace of grandfather’s soul, Moti embraced death. It was almost as though he no longer had any desire to live, and had called death to take him away. Til’s Daai (grandmother) was extremely attached to Moti as well. She would call him her third poot (son), and converse with him almost as if she was conversing with a real person. Moti’s eyes seemed humane, the moistness in them, the rolling of his pupils made her feel as though Moti was not merely listening, but agreeing/disagreeing to what she had to say. Finally, when the rituals for TIL’s grandfather were complete, the final prayers were said, TIL heard a soft, whimpering sound. It seemed as though someone was calling out to her. As she tiptoed outside, she saw Moti - a lifeless heap at the doorstep. TIL rushed towards the dog, and held him close. Even though Moti was no more, his eyes seemed moist with emotion. For that second, it seemed as though his eyes had transformed into mirrors. Til’s grandfather had lost a friend; a comrade and a companion. Til’s grandmother had lost her third poot. Til had lost an emblem of her soft, shimmering village life - and the world had lost a significant life. Til did not know how to feel. She did not know if it was even appropriate to feel anything at that point. She felt numb, devoid of all emotion. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t angry. She was a piece of cold, frosty rock, temporarily devoid of present existence. TIL looked into his eyes, through the blur of tears that adorned her cheeks. She saw her grandfather running towards Moti, taking out chapatis from his pocket. She saw herself, holding onto her grandfather’s hand. She saw Moti - in his happy and healthy form - dashing towards her grandfather. She heard her grandfather call out ‘’Motiyaaaaaa!’’
She heard the rustling of bushes, the scampering of feet. Sure enough, Motiya emerged. His eyes were glittering emeralds, and it seemed as though he held the entire sky, the entire world, on his soft, furry back . . . . . MEENA MISHRA
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