When all is said and done, all that counts is this. Every night.
My walking down the street with the bowl of rice and milk. In the moonlight on the quiet dark street. The white street dog capering down. Eager for her dinner. And as she laps it up, I stand and watch.
My washing and filling her water bowl. And walking back. Having received from her, humbly, the opportunity to serve.
The small and simple act of giving food has a deeper significance than we understand. It nourishes giver and receiver equally. And fully.
Shes Julie, as named by a watchman. Shes mangy, her neck has a small swelling, shes not a beauty. And yet she's more beautiful than all beauty.
After a long day of many conflicting emotions. Worries, personal and non personal. Many efforts that in the larger reality seem destined to collapse. Its all very exhausting some days.
And yet tired or not, Julie needs her night meal. Her one assured meal in the day. Just rice and milk. Daily.
And stepping out to feed her, watching her run down with her tail waving gently. Her beginning to eat. With full attention.
Her existing fully in the moment. Brings me fully to the moment. To gratitude. For one stomach filled. To satiety. The happiness.
And then receiving that gift from her wholly. In the present.
For that moment. When nothing else counts. Not past. Not future.
July 22
Shared with Public
After a long day, I'm usually tired by the time I need to go and give Julie her dinner. The old white dog at the end of the street had been given this name by a watchman. But then each time I realise that this is the most important part of the days work. For me, personally.
When Julie comes capering down, and eats her meal of rice and milk in large eager mouthfuls. As I stand and watch, and then wash and fill her bowl of water.
The act of giving food to one needing food is our most basic need. It nourishes the soul. The giver becomes the receiver.
And in the same way the hunger all around us today, when people are desperately seeking work and food, and we do not act adequately, depletes our soul.
And that affects each one of us in the deepest of ways. That depletion of self. Of soul. I feel it every day.
We were returning by cycle, late evening now. Suddenly a skinny white dog started jumping on us. Then we recognized it as the stray from the end of our street.
This was 4 km away, and the only way she could have come to this unfamiliar alien territory could be by running here in sheer terror. Diwali crackers.
We walked back with her and she slunk behind us, tail between her legs and shivering. Terrified of crackers. Of the snarling unfamiliar dogs objecting to her presence.
What are we doing this to them for ? To prove our right to our traditions ? To burst crackers ??
Traditions need to be collectively re examined and redefined. Otherwise it is idiocy and self obsessed behavior. Definitely not tradition. In its best meaning.
Julie the street dog was well last night. Today she is in the dog hospital with a badly dislocated hip joint. That is how uncertian life is.
Any suggestions ? Will anybody want to keep her ?
Julie s the dog on our street. She appeared 3 years ago. Maybe abandoned. She lived off the dustbin. Nights I would place some food.
Shes a gentle friendly soul.
Last night she was fine. Today in the dusk as we were walking back, a couple of km away from Julies usual haunts, my daughter suddenly stopped, looked into the dark corner, and called out sharply, 'Julie' !
It was so far from her usual rounds. The Diwali crackers must have made her lose direction sense. And while runing in fear shes got hit by some speeding vehicle.
Julie looked up. Tail down. One leg twisted out. We got some Parle biscuits and placed it before her. She wouldnt eat. She was obviously in terrible pain.
We called our kind auto driver. Shes a street dog, unvaccinated, and in pain might have bitten us. But she had to be lifted into the auto and so we did it.
We went to the Besent animal hospital but it was after hours. So we went to another place. There they took two xrays and confirmed that she had a hip joint displacement.
They kept her there and will tomorrow try to put it in and otherwise recommend a surgery.
We are unable to keep her at home as our dog and she are sworn enemies.
And at wits ends. Can someone help ?
Yesterday I had posted asking for help for Julie the street dog. She had probably got hit by some speeding vehicle and her hip/leg bone was displaced. We were very fortunate to spot her late evening. Slunk on a dark corner, unable to walk. Far from her usual streets.
It was a worrying night as we did what we could.
Today she is housed in Besent Memorial Animal Dispensary, 
despite huge pressure they accommodated her. She is in safe hands, the kindest.
Shravan Krishnan
. Where 
despite huge pressure they accommodated her. She is in safe hands, the kindest.
She has had a hard life as a street dog. And now this hip accident. And a big tumour in her neck. Praying for her well being.
A stray dog, mangy and toothless. Can unheralded walk into one's heart ... I did not know.
Julie came into the street 3 years ago. Maybe abandoned. She simply was around. The workers would feed her sometimes, we would feed her sometimes, she rummaged in the garbage bins.
A watchman gave her the beautiful name Julie. No, beauty was not one of her points. But the name stayed.
Her life passed uneventfully. Happily, maybe.
And then in one moment a day ago, its life changed. Possibly hit by a speeding vehicle. A hip dislocation. Shes in a cage now. Possibly in for an operation.
That is how fragile life is. How fragile all our tomorrows are.
Though when around she was a fixture, that's all. Now my mind is somehow hovering over her much of the time.
We never really know who matters to us, how much ...
There are many young street puppies around here. The bombs are scattering them in terror. Some get separated from their parents. Some get knocked down. They are all terrorized.
Just yesterday I went to the dog shelter to hand over a street dog whose leg was badly injured as she hit a car whe running in terror.
Our own dog at home is crouched behind the cupboard, eyes wide in terror. The street dogs have nowhere to hide
A 5 minute string of of deafening bombs were just fired.
My fellow religionists ask me why I question these bombs, when Muslims slaughter goats.
I grieve that they failed to learn anything from my vast and wonderful religion. Of goodness, of compassion, of humanity.
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