Breath taking view of Sahyadri from Lion’s Point offered the slice of solitary grandeur where in you can plunk your tribulations. Flora of the valley nuzzled by cloud, embellished by the filigree of docile stream, waterfalls with verve, tweet of cuckoo —– all coaxed me to offer myself to the nature. A small emaciated tree with shrivelled up branches bentdown with the breeze as if it is going to cuddle me!
The feeling of being a drop in the ocean was about to vie against the bountiful ego. But, finally I felt like a “Pagan” and offered myself to nature, got myself immersed in the splendid specter —— There was no difference between Zenithand Nadir – It’s all the same and I am a tiny piece of rime in the hailstorm.
All of a sudden, someone intruded to my space. His footsteps were sounding like the strenuous motion of a patient. His hair withered like decayed petal. He was scrawny but still made it up to the top of the cliff and was about to move towards the abyss. For a moment, I thought – Whether dogs commit suicide?
He rested himself in the cleavage of the rock and started gasping heavily. When you are deprived of everything else in the world, you will try to hold your breath. He is in a miserable condition but still did not wag his tail. I approached him with a sweet corn and offered him a slice. He did not pay attention to my gesture. I was baffled by his tormenting taciturnity.
His attitude reminded me of Lone Dogmade famous by Irene Rutherford Mcleod.
“I’ll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet, A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat”
I thought of breaking the maize and make his job a bit easy. Yes, the assumption was proved to be right. He was comfortable eating the grain. He started wagging his tails but still never demanded. Finally, I have poured some water over the rock which he drank. Again, he was back to the tip of the cliff and made him comfortable.
He was celebrating his last moments without noise. He was carefree and was away from the crowd. Initially his presence was an intrusion but for him, I never existed. I wanted his absence and turned out to be his friend. But he never had demands but he had his terms.
Driving back to my concrete abode in search of tribulations, the memories of the lone dog was lingering.
He expects me to break the maize when he is not capable of chewing. With all the faculties I possess, still I prefer to opt for the short cuts – Why?
Will I be able to celebrate an imminent mishap like the way in which he was celebrating his death?
Will I be able to live without demands during extreme penury?
I adore the spirit of the lone dog – As Irene Macleod hail his spirit –
“O mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best,
Wide wind, and wild stars, and hunger of the quest”
But alas – I am just a human being! “Dog’s life” – Dare not make mockery of the same.