I-owe-you

He met her gaze, and as soon as he looked into her light brown eyes, he knew she was the one for him. She was born to an Irish mother and a British father. She advanced towards him, and he immediately fell for her.

Akhil still remembers the figure of Rs 1350. That was the weight of his dreams when he joined Gandrapara Tea Garden in 1983, fresh out of IIT-Kharagpur, hungry to prove himself. Soon after he had installed the SKL engine, he was packed off to Chulsa T.G. Then, after a stint of about 9 months, to Meenglas T.G. That's the beauty of TEA life... never a dull moment.

The Dooars winter in January 1986 had settled hard. The mornings broke with a thick mist. Every day, the siren tore through the fog at 7 a.m. sharp. By evening, the Lava Hills vanished behind the curtain of cold. The Burra Saab at Meenglas at the time was Mr. Jeevan Pandey. Broad-shouldered, voice like gravel and sharp eyes that missed nothing. "It has been a year, Akhil, and a party is due!" said his Burra Saab.

And so, the stage was set in the Meenglas number 8 bungalow. Scotch in Cristal glasses caught the glint of the table lamp illuminating the evening. Soft instrumental music played on, and the fireplace of the golkamra snapped at the chill. Akhil played the perfect host, seeing to the glasses and ensuring they were full, instructing the bearer Nand Kishore to see to the finger bites, while Akhil kept his guests engrossed in conversation.

Then out of the blue, the bedroom door opened. In trotted Silvy, the Alsatian, all muscle and mischief, tail beating like a drum against the teak furniture. Behind her stood the bearer, Arun, in a starched white uniform with Silvy's leash in his hands.

"Silvy...Silvy, come, come... come back," he coaxed her, apologetic and flustered to have let Silvy into the midst of the party. But the Burra Saab waved Arun off. "Let her be," he said.

Like a bullet, Silvy launched herself at Inder's lap without permission, swiped a shami-kabab mid-air, and signed on Vandana's cream trousers with her wet paws. Someone yelped, a few laughed, and the whole room gave up being formal. Silvy had that effect.

Silvy, the pup, in her pen

"Sir, how is Baiju?" Akhil asked his Burra Saab.

"He is well, and I see that he has a friend now," replied Mr. Jeevan Pandey. Subeer Singh, the assistant from the neighbouring Sylee-T.G., leaned over, chiming in, "Dogs...they really are the best companions in the world." His wife, Anjana, added that they had a German Shepherd called 'Ali'. Suddenly, the tea-talks and plucking averages were forgotten. It was all wet noses, chewed slippers, and unwavering loyalty of the canine companions.

The conversations and the drinks flowed. The party was turning out to be a hit. Dhiraj offered Akhil a cigarette. "I have given up," Akhil refused, and moved towards the ladies to refill their glasses. "Ma'am, the party thrown by you when I had just got transferred here from Chulsa was out of this world," he said to Mrs. Lata Pandey.

He recalled sitting quietly with his drink in the verandah of the Meenglas Burra Bungalow just a year back, when he felt Burra Saab's pet dog pause at his knees. A wet nose nudged his palm. Akhil scratched behind his ears, and Baiju flopped down with a sigh as if to say, "You will do."

At the number 8 bungalow, Meenglas

Piercing his thoughts, the Burra-memsaab had asked, "Settling in, Akhil? Meenglas treating you well?"

Akhil smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes."Kaamjaari keeps me busy all day, ma'am, but the evenings... the evenings start gnawing at me. The bungalow is huge, the fog rolls in, and it's just me and the ticking clock.

That's when Ashok Somayya, the senior Assistant from Meenglas, piped up from across the sofa, a grin spreading on his face. "Arrey, simple fix. Pups are available at the 'Remount Veterinary Corps' in Dam Dim Army, just a few kilometres away. You should get one, Akhil. Top bloodlines."

The idea lodged in Akhil's head that night and refused to leave. A week later, he was in his Ambassador car with Anand Barua seated next to him, and drove up to Damdim. At the Remount Veterinary Corps (RVC), Colonel Awl, led them to a pen holding four adorable little pups. A cream coloured ball of fur with light brown eyes looked at Akhil and began advancing toward him. Akhil just knew that she was the one. He named her SILVY.

The RVC folks were strict. "For the adult dog, half a kg of cereal and half a kg of meat per day for the main meal. Milk and rotis for breakfast. No compromise."Akhil nodded solemnly, carrying Silvy tucked in a small blanket, her heartbeat tiny and fast against his chest.

Akhil's evenings and Sundays changed with Silvy's company. They would drive around and at times go for a splash in the jhoras. Arun the Bawarchi would go to Gorubathan haat for the weekly quota of three and a half kgs of meat from the butcher.

Over the years

But soon, the reality glared at Akhil. Although his salary had inched up to Rs. 1500, the math was merciless. The garden-safe still had a chit of 'IOU: Rs. 1500,' which was how Silvy had come to him. Groceries: Rs 600, WDC [Western Dooars Club] bill: Rs 600; because in tea, you showed up at the club, rain or shine, to trade your kaamjaari stories over a few glasses of whisky at the bar and also for social interaction. Wills Cigarettes: Rs 300.

That left exactly zero. And Silvy's cereal and meat diet wasn't going to pay for itself. For three nights, Akhil sat on the verandah, the distant cough of leopards in the kholas, the factory night shift humming low. Silvy asleep on his lap, the smoke from his cigarette curling into the dark like a question mark. The loneliness could gnaw, sure, but this little creature - trusting him completely gnawed deeper.

On the fourth morning, as the first siren wailed, he crushed the packet of Wills cigarettes under his kaamjaari shoes. The 300 rupees went straight into Silvy's bowl. Cereals, meat, milk, eggs and at times special dog treats, when she had been especially good. Akhil's own evenings were tougher now, fingers itching, but Silvy would trot up with his socks or her new toy in her mouth, tail thumping, and his cravings faded.

His evenings and his heart were now full, and though he had never told anyone, Akhil was sure that he owed this to Baiju and Silvy; his spark and his flame.

---

Glossary:

Burra Saab: The Manager

Burra Bungalow: The Manager's Bungalow

Jhoras/Kholas: Rivulet

Haat: Local market

Kaamjaari: Daily work supervision

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/821cde_2da85aa540f54c6e896500ca119f98c4/720p/mp4/file.mp4

Health and Happiness