766, 765

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The other evening, I was walking back from the temple with a friend. We take a road that curves around a hill and is dotted with little cafes on the side. When the stars deck the sky, these cafes put out their purple and yellow lights and look like boxy cupcakes with twinkly sprinkles. That evening, we saw a little puppy frolicking in the bushes. He was the colour of coffee. We had seen him the day before when he was trying to lap up some water with another little puppy. This time, we thought he was playing by himself. On a closer look, we saw the other puppy. The other one was laying on the ground and this one - the frolicking one - seemed to be eating something. He was eating and licking the other puppy's legs.

I am not an animal lover at all. My heart has opened up somewhat in Pune because there is a lot of communion with animals here. But I don't really get upset when animals suffer or anything. I'm vegetarian and even that is not for the benefit of animals. So seeing one puppy eat the other didn't really bother me that much. My friend was aghast though. She was really troubled and was contemplating separating the chomping puppy from the dead one. I thought that wouldn't be right. It's a puppy. He's got to survive. If he doesn't get food and that dead puppy is going to feed him for some time, in my head, it was okay. Survival mustn't be intruded upon, I think. Even if the cause for that intrusion is love. That puppy's got to live.

That night I watched Birdman - which I loved. There's a card that's leaning against the mirror in Michael Keaton's green room. It reads, "A thing is a thing. It is not what is said of the thing."

It's good to not label just about everything once in a while.



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