SuperBu Homecoming: First Two Chapters

Homecoming is the first of three novellas in the SuperBu series. The second novella is scheduled for release during Christmas 2021.

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The lazy young lad who would sleep through a freaking earthquake suddenly didn’t need anyone to wake him up. It was a special Sunday morning in September.

Ajay was up at five in the morning. Not once did he hit the snooze button on the alarm clock. He did not sleep through the ringing alarm until someone else in the house got perturbed enough to shake him awake. He heard the alarm within the first few seconds of it going off. He woke up and switched off the alarm, so as not to wake the rest of the family. He did not lie back down over the scattered sheets on his bed like he usually would on any other day.

He got up, headed to the bathroom, freshened up, brushed his teeth, came back out, changed into an ironed, royal blue t-shirt and his grey jeans, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, yet to be made, posture annoyingly better than how he usually sat, and waited. He did not have to get up that early; there wasn’t an exam to get to, no lectures at college that he feared he would be arriving late for, no potential girlfriend who had invited him to meet somewhere for a breakfast date.

It was a Sunday, but Ajay was ready and all dressed up to hit the city by 5:30 in the morning. Yet, this was only the second most unusual thing about this day, because this was also the day that the Bera family had finally agreed to bring home a dog.

Ajay had been dreaming about this day since he was eight; since the day that his mother had refused to adopt one of the puppies that her husband Ajit’s colleague was willing to let them keep. It had been twelve years now that Ajay had been trying to coerce her into getting a puppy home and his mother, Barnali, had finally given in to his pestering, only earlier in the week. The window of opportunity was small. Barnali could, potentially, change her mind any minute. And that meant that in two days, Ajay went to the local vet, found out about a guy who had a lot of dogs and sold the puppies, and contacted him. Ajay made a list of the types of puppies he could get, learned how much of each type would cost, and chewed on how soon he could get one home.

Twelve years ago, Ajay had decided in his mind that he would get two puppies when he got the chance. One would be a German Shepherd Dog and another a Labrador or a Golden Retriever. If it, for unavoidable reasons, had to be just one puppy at a time, the first one would have to be the GSD. In his mind, Ajay had the names for both his dogs figured out already. But he did not consider all the hiccups that would come with it, when the opportunity presented itself.

A German Shepherd would cost more money than Ajit could spend, so he convinced Ajay that a German Shepherd would be too much upkeep for Ajay in how much exercise it would have to get to stay healthy. Ajit convinced Ajay that a German Shepherd Dog was likely to get depressed if it stayed inside the house most of the time. Ajit said a dachshund would be perfect for the house because he had one when he was a child, and he had never seen a creature more intelligent than that. And it had to be a female because the bitches are usually smarter than the dogs. Ajay believed his father. He was naïve like that. He generally believed what people said to him.

Not once did Ajay think about breeding practices when he met the guy brokering the sale of the puppy. He just accepted that the guy sold off the puppies if and when his dogs gave birth to a litter because, if not, raising those many dogs would become overwhelming for one family in very little time.

But Ajay was excited about the day ahead of him. He had only to meet the broker at 9 AM, but he sat still at the edge of the bed, with his spine straighter than ever, until 6 AM, when Barnali woke up and walked in looking to wake Ajay up.

“Yes, today is a good day to get ready at 6 AM, and the days of your exams are good days to sleep till nine after playing games and watching indecent videos on your phone till four in the morning,” she said.

Ajay didn’t care. He was happy that morning. Happier than that time he scored 24 unbeaten runs in a local cricket match and got a little six-inch trophy for his efforts. Happier than the time he scored a goal in that 3-on-3 football match at college that six guys cut class to play. Happier than when Ajit didn’t drive him out of the house nor beat him to a pulp with his belt upon learning that he had failed two subjects in his first semester in college.

“Of course, nobody cares about what I want, anyway,” Barnali continued. “There was only one thing I ever expected from my marriage, that I wouldn’t have to live in a house where there would be dog hair and dog shit lying around everywhere.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. She expected a lot of other things from her husband. She had been dreaming about all the things that her would-be husband would give her since she was a teenage girl. Undying love, undivided attention, unrealistic longing, unending means, and a long, white car in which he would take her shopping around the city. She got none of those things from Ajit.

Ajay, of course, didn’t really hear much of what Barnali was saying to him. But Barnali caught his attention once as she said, “I will find peace only in death in this family,” half shouting, half weeping, and walked away toward the kitchen, where she needed to start preparing tea for everyone. Ajay didn’t care. Throughout his childhood, Ajay had heard his mother keep repeating those exact words once every few days. Barnali still hadn’t found death, nor peace.

The semi-scream seemed to have woken up Ajit too. He let out a scream of his own, “Torturous woman! Everyone in this family longs for the love of a dog for years but cannot have their wish because everyone is living in your fear. And you are simply incapable of loving someone other than yourself. Why did I ever get married to this hideous woman?”

A screaming match ensued between the master bedroom and the kitchen, and it continued for the next fifteen minutes until Barnali came into the living room and called out to everyone, “Tea is served.” This was a unique tradition in the Bera family where, for fifteen minutes every morning, Ajit, Barnali, and Ajay sat at the same table every day and no one screamed at another until the tea was over. So, the screaming match ended, and Ajit broke into several stories of how incredible his childhood dachshund, Alfy, was. Ajay listened intently and in exhilaration, while Barnali listened disapprovingly and in contempt.

Arun walked past them and into the bathroom as Barnali asked, “Would you like some tea, Arun?” Arun didn’t. Arun was the elder son of the Bera family. Barnali already knew that Arun wouldn’t have any tea and hadn’t made any for him, but she inquired anyway, out of a habitual courtesy. Arun walked into the bathroom, freshened up, and came back to join them at the table. Arun was excited too.

Arun asked Ajay where he was going to pick up the puppy. Ajay said he would meet the broker, Rudresh, at Manton, which was fifteen minutes from their house, and then they would have to go to Dum Dum, which was literally the other end of the city, to meet the litter of puppies. Arun was excited about the puppy, but had also made it amply clear that Ajay was the one getting it, so all the cleaning-after obligations would fall on him and only him. Nobody disagreed, not even Ajay.

Arun had only just been offered a job in Delhi and was waiting to leave home for the capital at the turn of the new year. Everybody wanted to make sure they were in Arun’s good graces before he went off to earn money. The Bera boys continued chatting for ten, maybe fifteen, more minutes, speculating about the puppy that was to arrive, while Barnali sat with them reluctantly at the table. Then they dispersed, and the next hour seemed like any other Sunday morning at the Bera residence. Barnali went into the kitchen and started sorting the condiments she would need for making breakfast and that afternoon’s lunch. Ajit went to the market to buy some freshly caught river fish before the good ones got sold out. Nobody really paid attention to what anyone else was actually doing until Ajay called out “I’m leaving” and rushed out of the house before the others could really respond. Ajay left home to and embarked on his long-anticipated journey to Dum Dum to meet the litter that he would choose his puppy from and bring home his favorite new toy!

Ajay met Rudresh in front of the veterinary clinic, at Manton, that had helped connect them with each other. Rudresh arrived five minutes after Ajay had reached the shop. He rode in on his Yamaha RX135 motorcycle and signaled to Ajay to put the shopping bag in his pocket and hop on to the back seat. Ajay did. An hour and five minutes and a bumpy, uncomfortable motorcycle ride later, Rudresh parked the bike in front of an old two-story house in Dum Dum Park. The house was painted light green on the outside but it wasn’t one of those plastic paints that give houses their smooth finish. No, it was just a coat of cheap green paint brushed over the plastered cement walls, little patches of the paint coming undone from the concrete at countless places. They got off the motorcycle and took the stairs up, where an old, wrinkly lady met them.

It was a miracle that the flight of stairs didn’t come crashing down as Ajay and Rudresh climbed them, one cautious step at a time. The construction looked at least 200 years old and felt even more archaic, thanks to its wobbly structural integrity. With each step, Ajay kept thinking to himself, “Do the residents use an elevator on another side of the building or are they just hoping to fall through one of these days and have the stairwell come crashing down on them to end their misery?”

The lady who greeted the men was only slightly less wrinkled than Taru, Ajay’s grandmother, but a tad more shrewd, evident from the twinkle in her eyes. She asked them to wait in an unusually large room with nothing but an unclean sofa placed in the middle of it and went inside. They stood near the sofa for a couple of minutes waiting for the lady to return, but eventually decided it best to sit down, anticipating a longer wait.

As they were about to sit down, a tan dachshund puppy ran into the room and found the farthest corner from Rudresh and Ajay and sat down. Ajay sprang up with glee as he saw the puppy running into the room, even before his bottom could properly hit the fabric of the sofa seat that he was about to occupy. A wide, unashamed grin and an unfamiliar glow had taken over his face. He ran to the corner of the room and picked up the puppy in his arms, only to find it shaking in fear. He placed it back down on the floor and gently stroked its head a couple of times. The puppy seemed to feel a little relieved, and relieved itself on the floor.

Over the next few minutes, the rest of the puppies from the litter flooded the room. There were six in all. Four of them were chocolate-colored while two were tan. Each one had a different personality. While the first one had found himself the farthest corner of the room to cope with his fear, the third one, another tan one, plonked herself right by the door after entering, but either in a show of attitude or just plain laziness, not fear. A couple of them walked their six, seven-inch frames around the large, empty room, inspecting it like they had moved to a new town and needed to make sure that there was nothing fishy going on. One was fat and seemed like he was used to wresting the lion’s share of his mother’s milk whenever he had the opportunity. There were only two females among them. A lazy tan one by the door and another chocolate-colored one. This tiny chocolate dachshund was why Ajay had woken up early and traveled all the way across town on a lazy Sunday morning.

He had already agreed to take the chocolate-colored female from the litter; he had paid full money to Rudresh in advance for this puppy because she came cheapest of the six; the visit was, in reality, a mere formality of picking her up and bringing her home.

She looked a little weaker than the rest, her bony ribs perceptible from over her skin. She had a few little white marks on her head. Rudresh assured Ajay that those markings were just drops of her mother’s milk that had dried up on her head and will go away with time. She looked sickly but was the sprightliest puppy in the litter. She ran around the room and played with Ajay, some. Rudresh reassured Ajay that she was a healthy puppy, which he said was evident from her playful nature. Ajay picked her up with both hands and asked, “How old is she?”

“Two months and two days today,” the old lady replied.

Ajay looked at the pup’s eyes and smiled and then took the shopping bag out of his pocket and gently placed her inside. He thanked his host and walked watchfully down those shaky stairs and towards Rudresh’s motorcycle.

The journey back home was another ordeal. Ajay hopped on the backseat of the motorcycle but wasn’t sure how to hold the puppy stably in the bag while also not losing his own balance. He could secure her over his lap and hope to the higher powers that one of the bumps on the way wouldn’t throw him off the moving bike. Or, he could hold on to the back support with one hand for added balance and let the bag with the puppy dangle from the other. It took a minute to find the right seating arrangement so that neither he nor the puppy in his hand got thrown off the moving motorcycle on their journey back home. Even that equilibrium position wasn’t ideal, but it had to suffice.

There was over an hour of bustling traffic ahead before Ajay could reach home with the puppy. Fifteen minutes into the ride, it started drizzling. Ajay could feel the puppy trying to adjust positions to minimize her exposure to the rainwater seeping through the surface of the bag. She tried for a couple of minutes, but the bag was made primarily from jute straws, and the pores and openings that allowed her to breathe out also allowed the rain to keep tricking in; it was a case of allowing both or allowing neither.

A little more time passed as they continued their efforts to keep adjusting on the moving motorcycle, and then the puppy started squealing every couple of minutes to let Ajay know of her discomfort. There was not much Ajay could do to control the whims of nature. He requested Rudresh to stop by the roadside and wait a little, under the temporary shade laid out in front of a tea stall. The tarpaulin shade enticed customers to keep stopping by and keep paying for a cup of tea. But Rudresh said there was no point, the rain wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

His logic had merit. It was September, nearing the end of monsoon, and extended drizzles during late mornings and afternoons had been the norm for the past several days. But Ajay insisted, and Rudresh eventually obliged. They agreed and stopped at the next tea shop for ten minutes and waited until the drizzle seemed to lighten up a little.

When they made the stop, Rudresh was visibly irate about being delayed for the meeting with his next customer. But the tea was nice, cheap, and piping hot. He calmed down a little after taking a couple of sips. Rudresh was getting drenched as well, up to this point. So, the tea must’ve come as a welcome respite for him too. Ajay didn’t have any tea as he was completely focused on protecting his new puppy, curled up inside the jute bag dangling from his hand, from the evil gaze of curious onlookers that surrounded him. By the time Rudresh finished his cup of tea, the weather seemed to ease up a little as well. Rudresh determined it best to get back on their way now, before the drizzle came back any stronger, or worse, turned into a downpour. They were only halfway home, yet.

Ajay and the puppy hopped back on to the back seat of the motorcycle as Rudresh vroomed away. Ajay could feel the puppy shaking in the bag but she had stopped the squealing. She needed some warmth. Ajay requested Rudresh to stop by the wayside again, but only for a moment this time. Rudresh didn’t object. Ajay picked the wet little puppy out of the bag and slid her inside his t-shirt. He thought it would give her some warmth. It seemed to work too; it stopped the shaking for a little while. And they continued for another half an hour until Rudresh dropped him off at the vet clinic in Manton, where they had met earlier in the morning.

Ajay had to take a shared auto-rickshaw back home from there. The first one refused to let him board with the puppy. The second one also denied him a ride because another passenger wasn’t comfortable sitting next to a dog. A very faint drizzle had returned by then. Ajay decided that it would be best to take her out of his shirt and put her back in the bag that he was carrying, out of the sight of people, and boarded the third rickshaw without informing anyone of the guest he was hiding in his bag. For most of the ride, the puppy hardly moved or even made a sound. It was shivering a little when Ajay had first boarded the vehicle and placed the bag on the floorboard between his two legs, but it wasn’t so much that the passenger next to him would take notice. Once the rickshaw started moving, she stopped shaking after a minute or two. There were no squeals. The puppy just sat still inside the bag. For a passing moment, the worst had crossed Ajay’s mind, but mostly, he was thankful that he wouldn’t have to get the pup drenched in the rain any longer, and wouldn’t have to walk the rest of the way back home.

Just a couple of minutes before Ajay was supposed to get down from the rickshaw, she let out another little squeal. The other passengers got curious. Ajay didn’t care if he was thrown out of the vehicle now, it was close enough for him to walk home and the rain had stopped completely. But nobody objected to her presence. The old man seated next to Ajay seemed quite excited at catching a glimpse of her in the bag and put his hand through to stroke her damp coat a little. He told Ajay to make sure to dry her with a towel as soon as they reached home. “I will,” said Ajay.

The rickshaw driver turned and asked, “How old is it?”

“Two months,” said Ajay.

“Take good care, their immunity is deficient at such a young age,” he advised.

Ajay nodded and then asked the driver to stop and let him out. They had arrived at the junction of the lane where Ajay lived and had to walk it from there. He let the shopping bag dangle from one hand, with the puppy inside, and walked home. He didn’t want any of his neighbors to take notice of the puppy and get curious. He just wanted to reach his home!

Ajay saw the main gate unlocked and walked himself in without any shenanigans. He marched into his grandmother Taru’s room, took the puppy out of the bag, and placed her on the bed by Taru’s feet. The puppy just sat there still and didn’t make the slightest noise. Taru hadn’t noticed any of this while she rested on the bed with her eyes closed, until her left foot touched the pup’s soft, wet skin and she let out a loud shriek, “Aaaaaaah!”

The shriek got everyone’s attention and the Beras all rushed to Taru’s aid, only to find her and Ajay laughing out loud together while Taru stroked the back of the little puppy sitting next to her. The mood changed immediately. Nobody was mad at Ajay for almost giving his grandmother her fifth heart attack. Arun moved in close to the bed and started stroking the puppy’s back, as Taru doing. Barnali stood at the entrance of the room, half inside-half outside, and looked on. She was angry that Ajay had indeed brought a puppy home despite her reservations. But it was a little puppy, wet and scared. Even Barnali couldn’t bring herself to shout at the poor thing. But all the commotion had got the puppy shivering again.

Ajay brought a dry towel into the room and started wiping the rainwater off the wee thing. Ajit asked for someone to switch off the fan so that the pup didn’t catch a cold. Arun did.

“You couldn’t wait until the rain had subsided before bringing her out in the open?” Ajit quipped at Ajay. Ajay didn’t explain himself, just continued trying to dry off the little pup. Ajit wasn’t happy to see how sickly and weak the poor thing looked. Ajay explained that she was the liveliest pup of the litter when he met her and how Rudresh assured him that the puppy was healthy. He also explained to Ajit that the little white spots on her head were mere drops of her mother’s acidic milk that had fallen on her head and dried into the skin. Ajit wasn’t convinced. He said she would be lucky to survive to be old enough to have babies of her own.

Once her skin was fully dry and she had stopped shivering, Ajay placed her on the floor. She stood there for a few seconds, surrounded by the gigantic humans who surrounded her, and then finally gave in to the demands of her wee bladder and peed on the floor.

Barnali couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You are cleaning that,” she shouted at Ajit. Ajit, in turn, shouted back, “Why me? Ajay will do it. It is his dog.” Ajay went into the bathroom and brought out a discarded piece of cloth and proceeded to wipe the floor with it. Then he went back into the bathroom to wash the piece of fabric and drop it off in a corner. He came back out with a bottle of phenyl and sprinkled a few drops over the soiled area.

The puppy had taken two steps away from the area and stood there, trembling in fear and watching Ajay clean up. As Ajay kept the bottle of phenyl back, she tiptoed her way under the bed and sat down. The trembling didn’t stop. She had perhaps hoped to find a shelter to hide from the crowd of the large creatures surrounding her, but the tall legs under Taru’s 19th-century pinewood bed weren’t ideal for closing off any views. Everyone kept staring at her from different spots in the room while Ajay eventually reached under the bed, picked her up in his arms, and held her close to his chest. She continued to shiver in his arms, but she also seemed to know that Ajay wouldn’t hurt her.

This was the first time all of them got a proper look at her shiny, smooth, brown coat. “Brownie!” said Taru, “we should call her Brownie!”

Ajit looked at her and said, “Alfy, Ma. This is our Alfy returned in a new look.” Ajit sounded like a thrilled young boy who had just seen a beautiful girl that tickled his hormones as he spoke to his mother about the dachshund that just walked into his life. “What about Chocolate?” inquired Barnali, hesitant still. Arun rejected both Brownie and Chocolate. Arun told them that this was a member of their family. She should have an intriguing name, not how every dog on the street is named after the color of their skin. “Bully,” said Ajay, “the first of Bully and Bruno.

“When Ma sent back Silky so many years ago, I knew I would get two dogs one day. The first one would be a German Shepherd named Bully and the second one would be a Labrador named Bruno. She is not a German Shepherd, but she is our first dog and I want our first dog to be called Bully.”

Nobody objected. Silky was the name of the Spitz pup that Ajit’s colleague had offered to gift them years ago, but Barnali had refused. Ajay had cried his eyes out that afternoon after Ajit’s colleague took Silky back with him after fifteen minutes of playtime. Ajay was eight then; and he was twenty now when he replaced Silky with Bully, in his heart. Ajay had earned this name.

Bully would go on to be called several names in her lifetime – Bully, Bulldog, Bullfrog, Bull-Bull by different members of the Bera family. But as the days passed them by, her name kept getting shortened just a little more each time. The final nickname that stuck was Ajay’s doing as well. Ajay imagined that whenever any of the Beras would want Bully to stop whatever she was doing in another room and come join them, they would let out the long-drawn yet endearing call of ‘Bu…’ And ‘Bu’ would come running into the room within seconds, expecting to be pampered with treats and toys and a share of whatever it is that the family was eating.

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