Our Pets
Jackey was our pet dog. He was golden yellow in colour. I
don’t know which breed he belonged to. In those days we were not conscious of such matters. We can never forget him as he was such an adorable dog. A loving and lovable dog. Even after months of separation, he would greet us happily and vigorously wagging his tail to show his warmth of love towards us. He went round and round us communicating his love that was in store during the months in our absence.
Jackey was Appachen’s faithful companion. He used to accompany Appachen during his field visits. Jackey had the peculiar habit of barking at those who came on bikes (Cars were not seen during those days.). He would see that the rider gets down from the vehicle. The Estate Manager, usually a European, used to ride a bike (or a horse in the initial years of my siblings’ early life) on the mud-way. Jackey would stand in the middle of the road with non-stop barking till the Manager surrendered, got down the bike, and Appachen or somebody at home had to intervene for them to proceed. In the Manager’s case, it was a matter of concern for Appachen.
Jackey had many enemies because of this nature. He was too aristocratic to bow before others. The other dogs of the locality were in constant rivalry with him. He used to look down upon them and had nothing to do with them. He was well known for his absolute devotion to his master and family. Jackey was extremely loyal to us. Once in our absence, when Appachan was alone with his servant Achenkunju, he saved them from an elephant’s attack. In the middle of the night, a tusker entered the courtyard, and seeing the elephant, Jackey started barking loudly. He went on barking at the maximum pitch of his voice and the elephant got enraged and irritated. It scooped up soil from the front yard and threw at Jackey, but Jackey could not be discouraged. Finally, the tusker gave up his attempt in destroying the house and doing further damage. His footprints could be seen on the outer wall of Appachen’s bedroom. It was there till we reached during the vacation. Appachen narrated to us Jackey’s heroic deeds. The place where the tusker scooped up the soil appeared a hollow like a waterless pool. It signified Jackey’s heroism and devotion.
At the time of our final departure from Silent Valley due to Appachen’s retirement, when our things were loaded onto the lorry, Jackey sensed that something was wrong. We couldn’t take him to Kottayam. He went around barking. Appachen and all of us felt very sad. Appachen had asked his assistant to give him shelter and food. We had to leave him there. Later we heard that he had refused to eat for many days and was whimpering and whining all the time because of our absence. Finally, the tragic news reached us that he was caught in a trap and was killed. We could never see him again.
Even after many years, Jackey lives in our memory. We had some pet cats also from time to time. Among them the ‘Sundari’(beautiful) Pussy was our favourite. She was a cat of a good pedigree, as we call “seema poocha”. She looked extremely beautiful and well-mannered. Very much aristocratic and dignified. Though she was the oldest of the cat-family in our house, she had won our hearts. Very loving. Jackey was her friend. Both of them were guardians of our house at Silent Valley. This was the cat we brought to Puthenangady when Appachan retired. We had no plan to take her over there. The night before, she was meowing and trotting around our packing cases. She sensed that something had gone wrong. We knew she was trying to communicate something to us. That was why we decided to bring her also to Kottayam. But it was a wrong decision, we knew only later. As I mentioned earlier, she had faced two dangers in the new surroundings: the enmity of the local cats and the extremely hot weather. As she was used to a cold climate, the hot climate was unbearable for her. She was often seen crawling on the floor for keeping herself cool. It was surprising to see the rivalry and jealousy of the cats which had already been part of the Puthenangady family before. But, her end came from a third and an unknown enemy, the villain of the piece, a dog of the locality. She lay dead in the middle of the adjacent road. We felt guilty for bringing her to Kottayam. Later, when we heard about the tragic end of our dear Jackey, it had drawn the final line to our intimate cat and dog. Thus both Jackey our hero and “Sundari Pussy” our heroine had a miserable end.
We had a good number of cattle in our cattle shed at Devikulam and Silent Valley. I know only about the matters at Silent Valley.
My siblings remember all the matters at Devikulam also. What I vividly remember as a great surprise to me was, the newborn calf running about the courtyard immediately after delivery. His nose and mouth would be covered with a guard made of cane or so. I was told, it was to prevent him from soil getting into his nose or mouth. It was fun watching the sprightly run of the calf. Very naughty he appeared! Now in these corona days when I see people walk around with masks on their faces, my memory goes back to the small round basket-like thing around the calf’s mouth.
Early morning the cowherders would come and take the cattle for grazing. They would be taken far away and allowed to graze on the meadows and the slopes of the hills. Late in the evening, at dusk, they would be brought back.
I still remember the sorrow I felt when one evening the cowherders came and reported to my father that one cow had fallen from the slope of a hill into a ditch or a crevice deep down and they could not save her. We felt very sad.
Only years later, when we started living in a world of adulteration and pollution that we became conscious, what a glorious time we had with the purest of the purest milk, purest honey brought by the Muduvan tribe, and the unadulterated vegetables grown by Ammachy in the surrounding plot in Silent Valley.
The roof of the cattle shed was a place of fun for us. My brother Babu and I used to slide down along the tin sheet roofing and jump to the ground. We used to play with mud cakes and curry leaves (leaves made into a curry). He would make a small hut as our shop and we would pretend to sell the cakes, rice, curries, etc. we made with twigs, leaves, and such things. Sometimes we would be joined by our cousins and friends. Actually, we didn’t have many friends there except for a few near the Tea Factory and in the Lower Division.
The poultry was our Ammachy’s forte. Ammachy had a good number of them. I remember collecting the eggs from the hencoop bigger than the usual type. It was such fun. Since I got so many eggs every day, I thought that each hen would lay eggs several times a day. Even now I love the sight of eggs and I am fond of boiled eggs.
The talk about eggs always brings a memory again and again to my mind of an incident that happened years back. My husband and I visited my friend Rajamma (we were good friends and neighbours when we were school children and later in college) at Njaliyakuzhy. Unfortunately, Rajamma was not there. Only her mother-in-law was there. Njaliyakuzhy is a village. Now almost all the villages have turned into small towns. At that time there were hardly any shops. Rajamma’s mother-in-law , typical of the mothers of those days, showed her hospitality. She brought three boiled eggs and black coffee for us. It was a welcome sight and a hearty meal. We were feeling hungry and we ate one each. My husband had half a mind to eat the ‘lone’ third egg; but I forbade him from doing that, saying it was against manners to eat the whole lot which was brought before us. How many eggs have we consumed ever since or before that incident! But, still, I remember the snow-white boiled eggs, that good Ammachy placed before us. Ammachy is no more. But she lives in my memory forever.
Years later, in my husband’s home, we had a much bigger shed for hens. It was not a hencoop. Enough for a small family to live in. The floor was filled with sawdust. My daughter was extremely fond of hens and chickens. She called each on one of the them by such fantastic names like Soona, Soonami, Pala Pala Soona, Gaggara Soona, Soonakki etc. For the first time in my life, I saw such tamed hens. They would come and place their small heads on her lap. My daughter sat there like a Mother Bird taking care of every hen and cock. It was surprising to see the big breed of cocks and hens behaving meekly and mildly with her.
My mother-in-law used to breed hens and it was glorious to watch the chicklings come out of the shells. During those days as the days in my childhood, the nightmare appeared in the form of kites or hawks. It was heartbreaking to see the innocent chicks being carried away by the greedy kites. Kites and hawks were the villains in my childhood days, I remember.
During our in-laws’ time cocks were killed for food. But in our time we never killed the cocks and hens we reared for food. We didn’t have the heart to kill them for eating. But, finally, we had to stop rearing poultry as a few of them were either killed by mongooses or carried away by some poachers. Though we did not use them for our food a few in the neighbourhood apart from the mongooses had used them for food, as we came to know of it rather late.
The recollection about our pets in Silent Valley has made me go astray with the memories of the pets we had in different places and also the association of thoughts that streamed into my mind. The farthest of our memories live forever….
We had a good number of cattle in our cattle shed at Devikulam and Silent Valley. I know only about the matters at Silent Valley.
My siblings remember all the matters at Devikulam also. What I vividly remember as a great surprise to me was, the newborn calf running about the courtyard immediately after delivery. His nose and mouth would be covered with a guard made of cane or so. I was told, it was to prevent him from soil getting into his nose or mouth. It was fun watching the sprightly run of the calf. Very naughty he appeared! Now in these corona days when I see people walk around with masks on their faces, my memory goes back to the small round basket-like thing around the calf’s mouth.
Early morning the cowherders would come and take the cattle for grazing. They would be taken far away and allowed to graze on the meadows and the slopes of the hills. Late in the evening, at dusk, they would be brought back.
I still remember the sorrow I felt when one evening the cowherders came and reported to my father that one cow had fallen from the slope of a hill into a ditch or a crevice deep down and they could not save her. We felt very sad.
Only years later, when we started living in a world of adulteration and pollution that we became conscious, what a glorious time we had with the purest of the purest milk, purest honey brought by the Muduvan tribe, and the unadulterated vegetables grown by Ammachy in the surrounding plot in Silent Valley.
The roof of the cattle shed was a place of fun for us. My brother Babu and I used to slide down along the tin sheet roofing and jump to the ground. We used to play with mud cakes and curry leaves (leaves made into a curry). He would make a small hut as our shop and we would pretend to sell the cakes, rice, curries, etc. we made with twigs, leaves, and such things. Sometimes we would be joined by our cousins and friends. Actually, we didn’t have many friends there except for a few near the Tea Factory and in the Lower Division.
The poultry was our Ammachy’s forte. Ammachy had a good number of them. I remember collecting the eggs from the hencoop bigger than the usual type. It was such fun. Since I got so many eggs every day, I thought that each hen would lay eggs several times a day. Even now I love the sight of eggs and I am fond of boiled eggs.
The talk about eggs always brings a memory again and again to my mind of an incident that happened years back. My husband and I visited my friend Rajamma (we were good friends and neighbours when we were school children and later in college) at Njaliyakuzhy. Unfortunately, Rajamma was not there. Only her mother-in-law was there. Njaliyakuzhy is a village. Now almost all the villages have turned into small towns. At that time there were hardly any shops. Rajamma’s mother-in-law , typical of the mothers of those days, showed her hospitality. She brought three boiled eggs and black coffee for us. It was a welcome sight and a hearty meal. We were feeling hungry and we ate one each. My husband had half a mind to eat the ‘lone’ third egg; but I forbade him from doing that, saying it was against manners to eat the whole lot which was brought before us. How many eggs have we consumed ever since or before that incident! But, still, I remember the snow-white boiled eggs, that good Ammachy placed before us. Ammachy is no more. But she lives in my memory forever.
Years later, in my husband’s home, we had a much bigger shed for hens. It was not a hencoop. Enough for a small family to live in. The floor was filled with sawdust. My daughter was extremely fond of hens and chickens. She called each on one of the them by such fantastic names like Soona, Soonami, Pala Pala Soona, Gaggara Soona, Soonakki etc. For the first time in my life, I saw such tamed hens. They would come and place their small heads on her lap. My daughter sat there like a Mother Bird taking care of every hen and cock. It was surprising to see the big breed of cocks and hens behaving meekly and mildly with her.
My mother-in-law used to breed hens and it was glorious to watch the chicklings come out of the shells. During those days as the days in my childhood, the nightmare appeared in the form of kites or hawks. It was heartbreaking to see the innocent chicks being carried away by the greedy kites. Kites and hawks were the villains in my childhood days, I remember.
During our in-laws’ time cocks were killed for food. But in our time we never killed the cocks and hens we reared for food. We didn’t have the heart to kill them for eating. But, finally, we had to stop rearing poultry as a few of them were either killed by mongooses or carried away by some poachers. Though we did not use them for our food a few in the neighbourhood apart from the mongooses had used them for food, as we came to know of it rather late.
The recollection about our pets in Silent Valley has made me go astray with the memories of the pets we had in different places and also the association of thoughts that streamed into my mind. The farthest of our memories live forever….
(To be continued………)
