My heart, it seems, has a permanent paw-shaped imprint. It’s a truth as old as my memories: I love dogs. Not just in the abstract, but with a visceral, almost overwhelming affection. From those early, hazy days of childhood, the sight of a dog, any dog, sent a wave of pure joy through me.
Our colony, a bustling little ecosystem of its own, was a veritable nursery for canine cuteness. Adult female dogs, wise and patient, would periodically gift us litters of squirming, yipping puppies. We, the neighborhood kids, were their self-appointed caretakers, our days filled with the delightful chaos of puppy playtime. We’d gather around them, offering kibble from our palms, our fingers tracing the soft, velvety fur. Their clumsy tumbles, their wide-eyed curiosity, their unconditional trust – it was a masterclass in pure, unadulterated joy. These weren’t just pets; they were our companions, our confidantes, our furry little teachers. They taught us about responsibility, about gentleness, about the simple, profound beauty of a wagging tail. Their actions, untainted by human complexities, were a constant reminder of the purity that exists in the world.
Today, that wellspring of canine love overflowed once more. I stumbled upon a sight that instantly transported me back to those cherished childhood days: a puppy. A tiny, fluffball of a creature, barely bigger than my hand, with eyes that held the boundless innocence of a newborn star. He was a symphony of soft browns and whites, a miniature masterpiece of fur and paws.
He was nestled beneath a parked car, a little island of warmth in the cool afternoon breeze. His whimpers, soft and hesitant, tugged at my heartstrings. I crouched down, extending a hand slowly, cautiously. He sniffed, his tiny nose twitching, then, with a burst of bravery, he lurched forward, licking my fingers with a wet, enthusiastic tongue. The world seemed to fade away. It was just me and this tiny creature, a silent exchange of affection. I felt a surge of protectiveness, a fierce desire to shield him from any harm. He was a reminder that even in the midst of the everyday hustle, magic exists in the simplest of moments.
The feeling was almost overwhelming. It was a rush of nostalgia, a jolt of pure happiness, a reminder of the unwavering love that dogs offer. In that brief encounter, the world felt a little brighter, a little kinder. And I walked away with a renewed appreciation for the furry companions who enrich our lives with their boundless love and unwavering loyalty. The third of January, 2025, began like many other winter mornings—with a dense, chilly fog clinging to the landscape. The air was so thick that visibility was reduced to a mere 10 meters, and the world seemed washed in faded colours. After a robust breakfast and a cup of coffee, I set out for a village named Dongargawan, nestled in the heart of Umaria, Madhya Pradesh.
My mission: to conduct a training session on organic farming for our Community Resource Persons (CRPs).
Meeting The Others
The training was scheduled for 11am, so around 9am, I called my five CRPs to confirm their timely arrival. Sangeeta didi, one of the CRPs, informed me that she had unfortunately missed her bus at 8am and would be delayed. Despite the setback, my enthusiasm for the day ahead remained undiminished. I gathered with Savita didi, another of my CRPs, at the bus stand. From there, we embarked on a journey to Tamanara village, approximately 10-15km from our starting point. After reaching Tamanara, we walked about 800 meters to meet Rama didi who was waiting for us.
As we waited for the other CRPs and Suresh, my office colleague, Savita didi regaled us with stories of her childhood and her village. She described the beautiful hills surrounding her village, covered in lush trees, and the small seasonal river that meandered through it. Savita didi told us about her life before her marriage like how happy her childhood was. She used to climb mango trees to eat mangoes, wear salwar kurti which right now she is not allowed to wear in her in laws house. These personal narratives painted a vivid picture of life in the rural areas, setting the stage for the day’s adventures.
Soon, Suresh arrived, along with the other three CRPs. We all squeezed into his car and set off for the training center. I had envisioned an office building, but what awaited us was a pleasant surprise: an open hall situated at the end of a farmer’s homestead garden.
The Arrival Of Raja
It was during a break in the session that I first noticed him—a round, golden-colored baby dog, approximately four months old. He was playfully trotting around the premises, barking with youthful abandon. His charming appearance immediately captivated me; it had been quite some time since I had seen such a beautiful puppy. During a break, I sought permission from the owner to approach the dog. I was curious if he might be aggressive. The owner assured me he was friendly and then told me his name was Raja. He also told me he had bought Raja at the market for just ₹100 on that very day. This was Raja’s first day in the new home.
As the training resumed, the owner and his wife also joined the session. They had tied Raja to a pole, a little distance from where we were seated. The puppy was clearly distressed, crying and attempting to free himself from the rope. It was his first day away from his mother, a situation that resonated with me. I have a dog back home, named Chomp, whom we adopted after he was injured in an accident. Unlike Raja, Chomp has the freedom to roam around, returning home only for meals and sleep.
Seeing Raja tied up made my heart ache. When the time came to visit the nursery, I couldn’t resist untying Raja and picking him up in my arms. He was a solid, healthy pup, and he immediately stopped crying, snuggling comfortably into my embrace. With Raja securely in my arms, I continued with the rest of the tour. We explored the fields where the owners grew vegetables using organic manure and observed the nursery, which contained brinjal, mango, and some medicinal plants. Raja clung to my hands with his tiny paws, and I couldn’t help but hug him more.
A Bittersweet Farewell
After the tour, we returned to the hall to resume our discussions. It was with a heavy heart that I had to put Raja down. This marked a temporary goodbye, as I knew that I could only see him again if another training session was organized at this center since the village was outside my project’s scope. I then took over the discussion with the CRPs, focusing on our monthly plan. As I was about to leave the training hall, I noticed Raja being held by the owner’s daughter, a girl of about 15, on the terrace. The sun was setting, casting long, horizontal shadows. This scene filled me with mixed emotions.
I felt sad that my encounter with Raja was fleeting, realizing that our paths may not cross again soon. At the same time, seeing him in the arms of the girl gave me solace that he would be loved and well-cared for. The image of the young girl and the puppy on the terrace was heartening, providing a sense of assurance and peace. It was a reminder that even a brief encounter can leave a lasting impact.
The day I met Raja was a memorable one, filled with lessons on organic farming and the joy of an unexpected connection with a sweet puppy. It was a beautiful reminder of the simple pleasures of life and the importance of compassion in our daily interactions. It was a day that highlighted not only the importance of sustainable farming practices but also the small, precious moments that enrich our lives. Though my visit to Dongargawan was primarily for professional purposes, it was my meeting with Raja that truly made the day special and imprinted itself on my memory.
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