Love.
A tiny little four-letter word, often found lost, wandering unwanted in a wilderness populated by other, more vicious four-letter words.
When Kuttush, our Family's "Adopted Sister-come-Daughter" (a.k.a. our pet) passed away on 16th January 2012, she left behind a Family so distraught that we never imagined that we would ever fully recover. For the first time, we came to know Despair like we had never known before: a gut-wrenching, burning-your-insides kind of Pain that just wouldn’t go away.
The first year after Kuttush's passing away was especially hard. Baba (my Father) missed his devoted Companion and Daughter terribly. So badly was he cut up, we could almost see the bleeding heart inside. And that was a seriously worrying matter: we were not sure his heart would hold up to the immense psychological strain.
What made things even more difficult for all of us was that we, his biological children, were living several hundred kilometres away from him at the time (we still do), and professional and personal commitments rendered it greatly difficult for my Sister and me to keep visiting our Parents in Kolkata frequently.
But we needn't have worried. The tradition—of being a Constant Companion to my Father—was kept alive. By someone who looked like a mirror image of Kuttush.
Kiara. Her Daughter.
Kiara took over from where her Mother had left off. Like Kuttush, she became what her Mother was: Baba's constant Companion, Friend, Shadow, and a rich substitute for his absentee children. She would not let Baba out of sight for even a second, going without food and water for hours, indeed, even days on end if her Master stepped out of the house. During the day, her shadow would merge into his; at night, she would snuggle up next to him in bed and fall asleep—but with one eye open and trained on him, just as her Mother used to do, just as she had learned from her Mother.
And Baba lived.
His love for the Mother turned itself upon the Daughter and found a new lease of life, even as Kiara bloomed under his loving eye. Over the years, they became as inseparable as the Baba-Kuttush duo: eating and playing together, going out for the occasional walk, sharing a pillow during nap times, and generally living it up in each other's splendid company.
And my Family came to recognize the healing power of Love. We realized that if Death is the one great truth of Life, Love is the other; Death will take away and Love will replenish the void.
Because Love will always find a way.
(This post was originally published on Tanya Munshi's Lifestyle Portal on February 1, 2015. This version contains some edits/changes/updates. You can read the original article here.)
A tiny little four-letter word, often found lost, wandering unwanted in a wilderness populated by other, more vicious four-letter words.
When Kuttush, our Family's "Adopted Sister-come-Daughter" (a.k.a. our pet) passed away on 16th January 2012, she left behind a Family so distraught that we never imagined that we would ever fully recover. For the first time, we came to know Despair like we had never known before: a gut-wrenching, burning-your-insides kind of Pain that just wouldn’t go away.
The first year after Kuttush's passing away was especially hard. Baba (my Father) missed his devoted Companion and Daughter terribly. So badly was he cut up, we could almost see the bleeding heart inside. And that was a seriously worrying matter: we were not sure his heart would hold up to the immense psychological strain.
What made things even more difficult for all of us was that we, his biological children, were living several hundred kilometres away from him at the time (we still do), and professional and personal commitments rendered it greatly difficult for my Sister and me to keep visiting our Parents in Kolkata frequently.
But we needn't have worried. The tradition—of being a Constant Companion to my Father—was kept alive. By someone who looked like a mirror image of Kuttush.
Kiara. Her Daughter.
Kiara took over from where her Mother had left off. Like Kuttush, she became what her Mother was: Baba's constant Companion, Friend, Shadow, and a rich substitute for his absentee children. She would not let Baba out of sight for even a second, going without food and water for hours, indeed, even days on end if her Master stepped out of the house. During the day, her shadow would merge into his; at night, she would snuggle up next to him in bed and fall asleep—but with one eye open and trained on him, just as her Mother used to do, just as she had learned from her Mother.
And Baba lived.
His love for the Mother turned itself upon the Daughter and found a new lease of life, even as Kiara bloomed under his loving eye. Over the years, they became as inseparable as the Baba-Kuttush duo: eating and playing together, going out for the occasional walk, sharing a pillow during nap times, and generally living it up in each other's splendid company.
And my Family came to recognize the healing power of Love. We realized that if Death is the one great truth of Life, Love is the other; Death will take away and Love will replenish the void.
Because Love will always find a way.
(This post was originally published on Tanya Munshi's Lifestyle Portal on February 1, 2015. This version contains some edits/changes/updates. You can read the original article here.)
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