Menoculayshunal; A Moment Of Inattention...

Well, dear readers, you have stuck with me through the retelling of the Canine Chronicles, the thinly disguised semi-fictional stories about the ashram dogs that I grew to know and love. If anybody did

not click to it, the 'strange amma' to the dogs was, of course, myself. Unidog is the language not just of grunts and woofs but of teeth, tail, ears and fur; it is a sign-language of sorts, a language of subtlety and fraught with misunderstandings - even among dogs.

Now, with ten years distance (...how did it get to be so far ago?), I am ready to complete these chronicles and bring it round to the next, deeper stages of being on the ashram and living the life of a sadhvi. (Males are sadhus, females sadhvis - renunciates.) You see, there were lessons to be learned...

First, though, the question was asked about the de-fleaing project. In truth, I had argued quite strongly against interventions with Radha's pups. The same attention had not been paid to the puppies of B1 and B2. It was simply that Radha was adored due to her good looks and gentle nature. However, "Uncle" (Krishna-bhai - and no, not the dog, one of the brothers!) had taken a real notion for the pups and started feeding them and getting ever more devoted to them. There was no drawing him away from it. So, when word came to me that he was using a disinfectant on them, I could no longer keep my impartiality. If it was to be done, let it be done safely and methodically. Amazingly, our Sanskrit acharya, Samvid-ji, was on board with this. Between the three of us, it took several hours with buckets, old toothbrushes, lots of old sheets and a very diluted solution of disinfectant to douse the pups, brush the fleas from them and into the water to drown. It was labour intensive, and I could not take photos in the process. I then advised that a daily wipe-over with the very dilute fluid would help maintain the flea-free condition. 

Then a trap was laid for me. Perhaps a strong way of putting it, but with hindsight, I see the pitfall. 

There is the legend; King Bharata reached the age of sannyas (70+) and surrendered the throne and all riches to his son, taking himself off to the forest, by a river, building a kutiya (cottage) and living on foraged fruits and roots. His remaining days were to be spent in this saadhana of austerity and meditation, seeking moksha. He spent several years thus and was doing well when along came a deer, pursued by a lion. To save herself, the doe jumped the river, which the lion could not. However, it caused her to bring forth the fawn she was carrying, after which she died. The fawn slipped into the river, and the sadhu could not bear to see it thus. He rescued the little one and spent time feeding and caring for it. This was an act of Love, an act of karma, and caused him to interrupt his saadhana. As time went on, he grew ever more attached to the now-grown doe and could not fully focus upon meditation. He found that he would fret for its welfare and worried about how it would fare in his absence... which inevitably came. On his deathbed, he was more concerned for the deer than for his own spiritual purpose and thus lost his chance in this life to gain freedom from the cycle of life and death. He had to be reborn, and when he was, he came as a deer.

In that moment of inattention after the clean-up session, I listened as Samvid-ji wondered whether the little girl-dog might make a desirable pet. We wondered if some among the ashram devotees might be interested or know of someone who would be willing to adopt.

In that moment of inattention... I made the decision to separate Rekha from the pack and house-train her. This was foolish for so many reasons.

In that moment of inattention, I became responsible not only for that one wee pup but answerable to my own spiritual purpose, to Acharya-ji and also to the ashram population. I became, as did Jada Bharata, caught in the immediacy of life in such a way that my path became broken, and there would be consequences.

...to be continued...