Myself & Johnny

Hello,

Welcome back to happy hours with Shukla.   It’s nice having you here.  I would like to thank everyone for taking time out of their busy schedule to read the ramblings of an old woman.  Your support and encouragement means a lot.  So, here it goes….

My family shifted to our current house when I was just six months old.  It was just a single story house then. Ours was a joint family with grandpa, grandma, uncles, aunts and cousins all staying under the same roof - a common thing during those days.  I was extremely difficult as a child (I know, I still am).  Some helpful neighbours immortalized my character defects with many interesting nick-names. 

‘Kotkoti’ for being a motor-mouth, ‘Jinghe beechi’ for being restless and the best was “Ram Gorurer Chana” for my moody unsmiling face.  For the ignorant soul, “Ram Gorurer Chana” is the central character of a famous bengali poem with the same title written by Mr. Sukumar Roy.  Let me try and translate the first two lines of the poem for your better understanding.  

“Smiling is forbidden for Ram Gorurer Chana

In case of a request to smile, they say - na, na, na, na.”

Just ignore the first two - believe me, it’s not worth it.  

I  was like a pariah for the decent rule-abiding kids.  After all, who can blame them.  I was kind of freaky (yeah, yeah, I still am).  Frankly, I was not bothered.  I was comfortable with the love of my life - story books.  These books helped me escape into a world of make-believe where I was the queen and rest all were my lowly subjects.  See!!!! I told you I was freaky.  My parents initially encouraged me to read.  But, when my passion started interfering with my studies, they started confiscating my books.  But I kept sneaking it in, much to their obvious displeasure.

Besides books, there was something else which was my constant companion -  fear.  I was afraid of many things but the biggest was my fear of dog(s).  I genuinely tried to keep my cool many a times but even a single ‘woof’ was enough to spook me into a state of hysteria.   

Roxy, a cute labrador, belonged to one of our close relative.  They brought him along when they came for a visit.  I tried to overcome my fear by petting him.  Roxy barked - not a blood-curling one like a “bow-wow” but “arf-arf” or maybe “ruff-ruff” ones.  My scared mind took it as a sign of warning and I locked myself inside a cupboard for the remainder of their visit.   Yeah, I know I may have over-reacted that day.  Probably, he was just expressing his appreciation for a  good head massage.  Guess, I would never know.

There was a time when I shared my bed with the four-legged friend.  No, not willingly.  My parents went to a relative’s place.  I was already asleep by the time they reached.   When I returned from my dreamy sojourn, I saw a huge dog sitting next to me with a red tongue lolling out.  My wet-face was proof enough that it has just been slurped by this dog.  Probably, it was an affectionate gesture from his part but I was not interested in a psycho-analysis at that point of time.  My fear-induced mind saw only ‘Sher Khan’ waiting for his next meal and I promptly passed out.  

I relaxed my guard for just one dog - Johnny.  A scrawny ugly mixed-breed stray with a dirty black’n’white coat.  He was everything I was not.  He was lovable, cute, friendly and an asset to the block.  He turned up one day from nowhere and decided to stay in our block - permanently.  From the very first day, he started following everyone in the block with a swish of his tail and a swagger designed to melt even the most hardened heart.  His woe-begone hangdog expression won many hearts, especially that of the kids.  Someone christened him Johnny and the name stuck.  He always responded to that name. Slowly and effortlessly, he wormed his way into every heart in our block. 

Our house boasted of a small front garden with many plants and trees.  The leafy area kept the place really cool during summers.  Johnny turned it into his personal summer retreat without even a by-your-leave.  It was a piece of cake for him to scale the low boundary walls of our house.  He especially favoured a spot between our hibiscus and night-jasmine tree.  Besides being cool, the spot also offered a clear view of the interior of the house through the glass window.  I used to sit right next to that window to study. Many a times while reading the story books sneakily, I used to feel a pair of reproachful eyes boring into my back.

To dissuade him from ruining our garden, elders used to  shift the flower pots in the garden quite frequently.  Undeterred, he simply used to dislodge the flower pots to reclaim his favourite spot.  It was almost like a game for him.  For winters, he chose my uncle’s covered Lambretta scooter to keep himself warm.  No matter how many times he was evicted from his summer or winter retreat, he used to return the moment coast was clear.

There were two huge parks close to our place. One was an ornamental park and the other one was next to a waste dump-yard.    Elders preferred the first park because of the greenery and the stench-free serene atmosphere.  The future Gavaskar’s were left with no other choice but to play at the other park.  During summer holidays, my cousins used to play cricket alongwith their friends.  Me and Johnny were the honorary member of the team because of our usefulness.  No matter which team was batting, I was always made to stand at a remote corner of the park to field.    They created this position because of my impeccable connections.  After all, I was related to some of their best players.

Johnny, on the other hand, created his own place.  Once, during a particularly big shot, the ball landed inside the dump-yard.  A debate started as to who was going to retrieve the ball braving all the filth and stench.  With no other ball to play with, they thought of abandoning the match.  In the nick of the time, Johnny solved the dilemma by retrieving the ball from the dump yard.   No one questioned his place in the team from that time onwards.  

To beat the heat, most of us (poor residents of the block) used to sleep on the roof-top.  Being lulled into sleep by synchronised snoring floating from every roof top was an out-of-the-world experience.  While we were floating in some ‘ga-ga” land, Johnny used to be on patrol duty to guard the block from all types of miscreants. He was diligent in his duty, barking every now and then to remind everyone that he was awake and alert.  He reserved his bark for strangers and his gentle side for the colony kids. Including me. Maybe he understood my fear, that is why he never tried to come too close.

Even though everyone loved Johnny, no one actually knew him.  Inspite of showering so much love and attention, none of us actually paid close attention to him.  It became apparent when Johnny became pregnant.  Yeaaaaaaaah!!  Johnny was actually Jimmy but by that time it was too late.  She kind of loved the name Johnny and wore it like a batch around her.  

Johnny gave birth to six cute puppies.  Six adorable black’n’white fluff balls.  It was a must see.  Even I went for a peep with rest of the kids.  Johnny was exhausted and the pups were constantly clamouring for their mother’s attention.  We spent the whole evening around Johnny and her pups.  Very next day, she lost one pup to the hungry beak of a crow. 

To save the rest of the pups, a temporary shade was errected with a written-off bedsheet.  But pups crawled out of it the moment they became a bit stronger. One brave-heart ventured straight to the main road and was immediately crushed under the wheel of a speeding bike. Rest of the pups were stolen by some greedy dog-thief.  Johnny went back to her previous routine but there was a change in his usual demeanour.  Her barks somehow changed into a growl and she started chasing every cycle-borne / large grocery-bag holding stranger.

One morning, a huge ruckus threatened the serenity of our block.  A man was beating his wife ruthlessly for money.  Asha, who used to work as a maid at some of our neighbour’s home, was the poor abused wife. Residents tried to intervene but he was not in any mood to talk.   Eventually someone called the police.  Johnny, who was not around, returned exactly at that time.  With just one flawless high kick or maybe it was just a lunge, she had the wife-beating curr lying prone on the streets.  Johnny then stood on top of the terrified man, growling and baring his teeth for effect. When the police came, man surrendered meekly. 

Johnny became pregnant for the second time.  This time she gave birth to five pups.  For delivery, she chose a dry drain almost hidden by the road and bushes.  We saw them only when the pups started moving all over the place.  Unfortunately, these pups were also stolen.  After this incident, Johnny became paranoid  and started patrolling near-by blocks also. Her crusade against the cycle-borne/ grocery-bag holder strangers intensified during this time. 

Diwali, the festival of light and joy, came knocking on our doors.  Like every year, kids of the block were busy bursting crackers outside.  I was trying to show off with some really nasty cracker when it backfired, burning my hand in the process.  I was immediately grounded by my parents.  Bitterly regretting my moment of madness and wallowing in self-pity, I noticed something suspiciously like a tail quivering below the very sofa chair I am sitting on.  I don’t know for how long I kept looking at the dirty tail, but I do know that I was completely numb.  My vocal chords were also not functioning properly.  I felt like screaming for help but what came out was just a croak. Nobody heard me because of the din of the crackers.  I kept croaking till someone noticed me sitting on top of the backrest with a petrified expression on my face. 

They tried to coax and drag Johnny out of her hiding place.  Even in that state, Johnny tried to oblige them but some crack-nut chose that very moment to light a series of really noisy chocolate bomb.  With a fearful whimper, she went back to her hiding place.  But before going in, she looked at me directly once.  Till that moment, I was only conscious about my own fear.  But looking into her tortured eyes and soul, I felt a sort of kinship with Johnny for the first time.  The feeling calmed me down and I told my mother to leave her alone. We spent the rest of the evening huddled in our respective comfort zone, both fighting their respective demons and failing. 

Johnny became pregnant one last time.  Alas, she again lost the pups to some dog-thief.  It seemed as if she lost her mind completely after this incident.  She started attacking every stranger, biting or scratching them badly.  After one particular nasty attack on a cycle-borne labourer, people started talking about handing her over to some animal shelter.  Johnny was least bothered, growling away at anyone who threatened her peace of mind. 

When I was just thirteen years old, I took part in a local theatrical show.  My daily schedule was packed with studies, story books and show-rehearsals.  Rehearsal venue was just a block away.  The connecting alley leading towards the rehearsal venue used to be perpetually shrouded in darkness due to faulty overhead lamps. I was not overtly bothered even though the rehearsals used to stretch till late evening.   

One day while returning from the rehearsals, I was attacked and inappropriately groped by a cycle-borne miscreant.  It was a rude shock.  I remember running all the way home to Ma’s outstretched arms.  She alongwith Johnny was waiting for me outside our gates. Crying hysterically, I narrated the whole sordid attack.  While Ma ensured that I am always accompanied by someone responsible after dark, Johnny went a step further.  She started following me everywhere - bus-stop, market, park, rehearsals..Everywhere.  She relaxed her guard only when we left town for our summer vacations. 

Exactly a year later, I was sitting on the roof top when the block reverberated with a feminine voice crying for help.  From the glow of the nearby lamp-post, I saw a girl being chased by a familiar looking guy in a two-wheeler.  Before anybody can react, Johnny was already in hot pursuit.  Sensing danger, man tried to flee but it was too late - his left feet was already in Johnny’s lock-jaw death grip.  As a last ditch effort, the monster aimed his helmet at Johnny’s head.  I heard the sickening thud as the helment connected with Johnny’s head and a painful yelp from Johnny.  I started crying.  I could see Johnny lying prone at one-side due to the impact.  But by this time, other residents had already rushed out of their home alerted by the cry for help.   Seeing the crowd rushing towards him, the monster tried to flee again.  Johnny, the brave-heart, lunged again in a bid to make one last effort to nab the guy.  This time she succeeded in throwing him off-balance. The monster crashed into the dry drain next to the road.  He was nabbed easily and handed over to the police after a sound beating.  

I was still standing on the rooftop crying my heart out.  While everyone was busy venting their anger on the man, Johnny quietly slipped away.  I saw her bloodied face clearly from the overhead lamp-post.  Before going, she looked my way. A look of final goodbye.    She went just as she came - on her own terms.  Living like a hermit, loving like her own and paying back everything she thought she owed.  A rarity in this day and age.  When people casually say that they are living a dog’s life, I just smile.  If it ever happens, then this world will be a much better place to live.  Isn’t it? 

Bye for now.  

Copyright: Shukla Banik