My daughter, who attends college, comes home at weekends. Every time she is at home, she makes me oil and comb her hair. These are moments I hold very dear, as it is then that we get to share our adventures of the past week with each other. Usually, at some point, our conversations get sidetracked to stories from my childhood days.
It was on a day like this that she spotted a squirrel on a tree outside. “Look how adorable it is, ma!” Her comment made me notice the squirrel, which, oblivious to the fact that it was attracting an audience, kept flicking its tail and chittering frenetically. This sight took me back to my childhood, when I was six.
My family had just moved into my newly built house. As a house-warming gift, the head carpenter gave us a small cardboard box. We opened it to find a cute little squirrel inside. We took it inside and fed it milk. In two to three weeks, it became one among our family. We named it Gopi, after the guy who gave him to us.
Slowly, he started moving in and around the house and even started responding to the name Gopi. Days passed and he must have developed a longing for the wild, for a day came when he just disappeared. Our calls for Gopi brought no response.
One day I was studying in the verandah and out of nowhere a fully grown squirrel appeared. I ran inside with excitement to deliver the news, “Gopi is here”. We gave him a piece of jaggery, his favourite. The sight of Gopi standing on two legs, eating that piece of jaggery was charming.
We didn’t have to wait the next day, it came on time in the morning. This went on to become a habit. Gopi even started throwing tantrums if deprived of his daily ration. I remember, one day, I was in the middle of something and he bit me in the leg for not paying attention to him. He was that spoilt.
And then, the story took an interesting turn. To our surprise, Gopi brought home a junior Gopi. It was only then that we realised Gopi was, in fact, Gopika. We tried hard to lure the pup inside, but it didn’t give in.
From then on, ‘the visits became more frequent. She even had the audacity to find the tin of jaggery from the kitchen and sneak away pieces of jaggery. Honestly, we all enjoyed these little antics. For the next five-six years, Gopi was a constant part of our life.
One afternoon, Gopi came crawling to our verandah, barely making it. We realised at once that she didn’t have much time left. I ran inside, this time to fetch water. I came back and took her in my arms. Tears started welling up in my eyes. I gently poured some water into her mouth. Before she could drink it, her body convulsed and then became still. A soft wail escaped all of us.
My kids, who belong to the new generation, live their lives in the world of WhatsApp and Facebook. When I see their hearts melt at this story, when they hold Gopi close to them, I realise, it is love and friendship that make life worth living.
sheebames.naser @gmail.com
