Phew... at last I have finished this book. This took me over 3 months to finish. Spoiler alert! This book is mostly about this stoic Swede called Ove who wants to die to be with his beloved wife. All his attempts are foiled by noisey neighbours and society. He is grumpy and wants to stick to rules and says that right is right and wrong is wrong. But if you can sandpaper off the rough surface, he is a man who can run into fire to save someone or jump in front of an upcoming train for you and be completely non-chalant about it. He did what he thought was right and so no need to fuss over it. Very similar to him is his friend Rune too, with whom Ove is at loggerheads for most part of his life but goes to war against the bureaucracy to save him. All of the other characters are lovable and well built. All of them are helped out by Ove at different points in the book. The language is very simple and quite humourous at times. The reader will invariably fall in love with Ove over the course of the book and by the end will surely shed a tear or two in his honour. Initially I really found the book very slow, and I had fair warning about that from other readers. I used to fall asleep reading it and couldn't read more than one chapter. I had to pick up a fast paced Sidney Sheldon to break the slump. I stuck to it only because I wanted to see the end of it. I am not dissapointed. The whole story is bound quite well in the end. I don't think I will pick it up to read again but I will surely recommend it to others with the due warning. Ending the review with my most favourite quote from the book about loving someone- "Loving someone is like moving into a house,' Sonja used to say. 'At first you fall in love with all the new things, amazed every morning that all this belongs to you, as if fearing that someone would suddenly come rushing in through the door to explain that a terrible mistake had been made, you weren't actually supposed to live in a wonderful place like this. Then over the years the walls become weathered, the wood splinters here and there, and you start to love that house not so much because of all its perfection, but rather its imperfections. You get to know all the nooks and crannies. How to avoid getting the key caught in the lock when it's cold outside. Which of the floorboards flex slightly when one steps on them or exactly how to open the wardrobe doors without their creaking. These are the little secrets that make it your home." (P.s.- I am quite curious to watch the movie with Tom Hanks in it because he is one of my favourite actors and since I know it's out there, I have imagined the whole book with his image.)

#RelativesRants Well, my writeup is not a rant actually. Although that does not mean that I have no complains but I would like to concentrate more on the positive side. My bunch from both mother's side and father's side is as mixed as anyone else's. There are those we love, there are those we love to hate. All have their good and bad sides. But my fondest memories in life also have been with most of my relatives. My mother was friendly with everyone and kept in touch with even the remotest of our relatives. And us living in Delhi, meant that many of them visited us. Anyone who had some work there, made sure to visit us or even stay with us. Sometimes it was bothersome when they arrived during my exam time but my parents were always welcoming them with warm smiles. I never heard them say a bad word against anyone. It was, only after I grew up that I had to figure out all about them on my own accord. We have relatives spread out all over India and the world 😄. Delhi, Rajasthan, U.P, Maharashtra, Madhya Pradesh, Assam, Bihar, Bangalore, Germany, USA.... you name a place and maybe I will say I have a relative there 😄🤷‍♀️. I have also now tried staying in touch with most but then again... issues arrive, people change, love changes, circumstances become different. I have lost touch with some very closest ones and have also made new ones because of my marriage. There are issues there also but I have been married for many years now, hence, people change, ideas change, situations change... well you get the jist. Having many relatives is a plus too sometimes, specially if you are a Bong and also the youngest. I have always received so many gifts during occasions. Be it Pujo or Poila Baisakh or Bhai dooj. Since I am the youngest in both the circles, I have been pampered with gifts when young. Books and clothes were the most common. Anyone who came visiting, always brought something for me. During Pujo, I never had to buy anything new for me because I received so many. 🤷‍♀️😁. Times have changed now. We don't visit relatives to stay over anymore these days. Everyone has moved and everyone is busy. Many from our previous generation have passed away and we have lost touch too with quite a few. But in the day and age of social media it is also easier to stay in touch. Sharing memes with my cousins is the new norm 😄 and that's how we try keeping the bonds together. It is not easy to meet often but staying in touch keeps the nostalgia of the yesteryears alive, I guess.

I opened my eyes And there he was Looking at me With all the love His heart can hold. I reached for him He picked me up In his strong arms And I knew I was safe From the pains of the world. I cried out loud He cajoled me Wiped away my tears Hugged me tight And said it's alright. Love has come and gone But he has always been The North Star of my life My First love My baba. ©️gargi(igragscribbles) #napowrimo #firstlove

#bookreview Name- It Ends with Us Writer- Colleen Hoover After very many days, I at last found a book that I wanted to pick up as soon as I kept it down. Many of my previous reads had started to make me feel that maybe I am loosing my interest in reading. However, this made me realise that I was just reading wrong books. But as someone has said-"We need to read many wrong books to get to the right one" (something like that). I fell in love with Lily, Atlas and Ryle and cried and laughed with them. Their dreams and ambitions became mine and their heartbreaks made me cry. The writing style is superb. And I loved the inclusion of Ellen De Generes who has been a favourite of mine for a while. Reference to her movie makes up an important part in the book. I cannot wait to get my hands on its sequel and although maybe its predictable, I still want to read it. **************************************************************************** #bookreview Might contain spoilers. *It Starts With Us by Colleen Hoover* Rating- all the stars in the galaxy To be very honest, assuming that one will read this after reading It Ends with Us, it is a very predictable book. We know what will happen. We are already happy for what will happen. We know what the conclusion will be because we all want it and it already has been written by the writer at the end of Book 1. But the beauty of the book lies in the journey to the conclusion. The way Lily and Atlas reach their happily ever after is what we had wanted in book 1 itself. So when we finally see it happen here, our hearts are filled with love and elation. The one part I felt lacking in this book was that Ryle's scenes seemed a bit forced here. The way his villanous character was built in Book 1, his existence in this book seemed very lacklusture. For a hero to be good, we need an equally strong anti-hero. Ryle needed a more strong character presence here because Atlas is so larger than life. Theo and Josh are two adorable characters introduced in this book and I will surely buy a Book 3 of this series if the writer builds a story about these two. I want their love stories too! (Co Ho are you listening The introduction of dual Povs adds another level to this book. It seemed like many questions from book 1 were answered which we actually didn't know existed ... can you get what I mean? I had liked the interwining of Ellen De Gerenes in Book 1 and it stays here albeit in the background. I have already recommended this book to my bestie and will recommend these two to any die hard romantic out there. ( Psst- Atlas Corrigan becomes my second crush after guess who. ....)

This is a book that has left me with more questions than answers. And I have it from a good source that there might be a sequel that will answer them. A quick read sci-fic that leaves you speechless when the dots connect, this book delivers what it's synopsis promises. The chapter that explains the title, blew my mind. Without giving away much, Ishaan and Katayani meet to discuss a riot of the past but all is not what it seems. Ishaan's gut says he needs to be careful and boy is he right. What happens to him and why is he sceptical, read A Cycle of Two to know. The language is smooth and easy to understand. There are a few editing errors but that's so because this book has no editor. It shouldn't take you more than half an hour to read. P.s - I do not like sci-fics, neither in books nor movies but this book is special because it has been written by a person who has played a pivotal role in my writing journey too. Tanay is a prolific writer and poet but very humble in accepting that. The ideas he shares just leave me in awe. I am sure he is bound for greatness in the future. Do give his book a read and support him.

The Rig Chronicles (The Secret of the Sudarshan) by the young writer Siddhant Bora, is a book worth reading if you like fictions drawing encouragement from history. This is a fast paced, action packed book, which will (I will be brave enough to say this), give you Dan Brownish feels while you read it. The book is about The Rig, a group of secret agents belonging to IGS(Intelligence Groups and Services). Their leader is murdered by an assasin and one member, Ravish, is getting anonymous calls. While trying to get to the bottom of this, they come across their worst nemesis and the secret that he has unveiled. There is hint of romance, lost love, betrayal by a friend, a strong anti-villain and also the promise of a sequel because the story ends with a cliff hanger. I loved reading the book. Its a page turner for sure but it was a bit too fast paced for me. The actions move very quickly from location to location and it gets confusing a bit for me as a reader. But giving that this is only the writer's debut novel, it is a wonderful attempt and I look forward to his works of the future. The chapters where the villain draws reference from our epics and mythological stories to justify his actions, are detailed and really makes us think. Shows us the writer's grasp of knowledge on these topics. The language is free flowing and easily understandable inspite of a few editing mistakes. But I have one very big complain. The final action of the book really fails to stand up to the build up to it. The hero and the villain are so intense that a fight between them should have been the same. The build up was so prolonged that I had expected a Big Bang at the end, an 'aha' kind of moment... but I didn't get it. Maybe that's just me but this indirectly shows too how much I had expected from this book, it was so good. Hoping, the sequel, if there is one, will satisfy my hunger. Definitely worth a read.

I met Anuradha on the first day of college. She was sitting alone in the first bench and I went and sat down beside her. I acknowledged her presence and she replied back with a smile. I am a complete introvert, so that was a huge step for me, to take the initiative to make a friend. But I had not done that on a whim. I had, actually, seen Anuradha before, in the lines outside many colleges, where we had to stand to fill up forms for admissions. I don't forget faces easily and so I had recognised her as soon as I had seen her sitting there. It was a coincidence that we got into the same institution, a reputed one in Kolkata. She was roll no. 105, I was 110. The coincidences didn't stop there. I got to know that we in fact lived in the same area in Kolkata. Her house was a mere 10 mins walk from mine. Well, the coincidences soon turned into friendship. We started coming back home together. We started going to tuitions together. We shared notes and ideas and secrets. I gradually learnt that Anuradha was a very passionate person. Very good in her studies and an obedient daughter, she can love you to the point of worship and hate you to the point of vengeance and I unfortunately faced both sides of the spectrums. When my mother passed away, she did everything in her power to make my days better. She was a true friend who stood by me like a rock. But later on she hated me because of a misunderstanding not of my making. As I said, she can love you to madness. She fell in love. In all the 3 years of college, she was in love with someone or the other and I was always happy to be her wingwoman. She obviously fell for the wrong guys, like any heroine does, but I never told her so. In our last year, she fell in love with a singer. A guy nicknamed Bappa, from another college who was a lead singer in a band of a common friend. And she followed him around. Followed him like a mad woman. She was at all his gigs. She started going to his classes. She found out his home address and went to visit him and overstayed those visits. Our common friend urged me to ask her to stop because he had threatened that he will leave the band if she doesn't stop her madness. I tried. Did not help. Those were not days of social media. The mobile phone was just about calls and smses. One day, we all were gathered at our friend's house when my phone pinged with a msg. Unkown number. I opened it and started laughing. It was someone acknowledging his undying love for me. The phone was circulated around for reading the msg and eventually reached Anuradha . She went quiet. I didn't take notice of it then as we were busy joking around. But she went dead quiet and did not talk to me after that. I later gathered that the unkown number was actually that singer's. That ba***** had used me to get rid of Anuradha. She misunderstood that in the garb of being her wingwoman, I had tried to make my way with that person. I had always disliked him but when his ploy became clear to me I hated him even more. To get his own peace, he killed our friendship. Anuradha became distant with me from that day. We lost all contacts eventually. She never confronted me or even asked for an explanation. If only she had. I wish she could read this and know that I never ever tried to get my way with that guy. She knew he was not my type. She knew how much I hated him. I just wish sh6e had not believed in that silly sms. I just wish she had fought with me over this so that I had a chance to explain to her my side of the situation. I just wish she had not given up on our friendship just because of that selfish p**. If only I can get another chance to talk to her and tell her that she was always more important than anybody else. (Image from google.)

I knew him as a neighbour, I knew him as I grew, His was a place I liked to go, But alas if only the future I knew. Trust... It is the easiest thread to tear, The easiest bond to break. Judas did it to Jesus, And so did Brutus to Caesar, Ephialtes did it to Greece, And also Jafar to Siraj, I was also not left alone, He did it to me. He took advantage of my naivety, He said all was alright. He said this is what we do for love, And that in him I should still trust. I had read monsters in my fairytales. With huge horns and claws, Huge red eyes and big paws. Breathing fire and kidnaping princesses. Nowhere did I read, That monsters walked amongst us everyday. They looked like us, talked like us, And murdered the innocence in our hearts. But the Divine Intervened When he remained a neighbour no more, But although he walked out of my life forever, His touch lives with me like a painful sore. #metoo #poetry

I loveeeee food! Oh yes! I do. All kinds of food. Fried, boiled, baked, toasted, sweet, savoury. Also various cuisines- Indian, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, American.... well you get the gist. I have but tried to stir clear of some obvious delicacies- octopus, bugs, snakes, scorpions, “bats”. But other than these, I just love to eat. You will get the idea when you set eyes on me. But there is this one thing about food that I don’t like, I absolutely hate... now what is it called, I cannot remember... it was something rather important related to food... arreh... what was it??? Oh, yes! Gotcha. It’s called Cooking! I don’t like to cook. My mum never taught me. When I was young, she used to say, you are a smart girl, you will learn how to cook on your own when you will grow up, hence now concentrate on studies. How wrong she was! Not the smart part, that I still am but just the cooking part. I have been married to a partner, who loves to eat home cooked food, for nearly 15 years now. My cooking is the only bone of contention between us. Thankfully he loves my other traits more than my cooking and hence we have stuck together for so long. Also, he married me knowing that I cannot cook, therefore, point of no return! When I was trying to learn the reins of cooking just after my mum had suddenly passed away, I had made a pasta fiasco. I have always loved eating pasta and so one day my dad brought home Conchiglie pasta and I took charge to cook it. I fried the onions, veggies, a bit of chicken and then poured one packet full of pasta in the hot oil without first boiling them. Yeah, you guessed it right. That night we had to eat maggi while hearing the street dogs crunching down the rock hard pasta along with the other ingredients. This one time, after my marriage, me and my hubby dearest were travelling on a long distance train. It was an overnight journey and I bravely volunteered to cook some food to take. I had been dying to learn the ropes of making aloo paratha and I wanted to show off to my husband that I can cook too. When we opened the dinner on the train, it was late after midnight and we were moving forward at breakneck speed leaving behind unknown stations and sleepy towns who would never know the predicament me and my husband were in. For in front of us were mini rock solid flying saucers which we could have used as weapons in case dacoits had attacked us. We remained empty stomach until the next morning when we got some breakfast at a small station. Thanks to younger age, our tummies didn’t give way. There have been quite a few incidents time and again. Cake burning has been the most common. Although now I have learnt to cook some dishes, read pasta and paratha, the art of cooking still eludes me. I cannot for the love of God, fathom the differences between the myriads of masalas that Indian cooking consists of. Some need jeera, some black jeera, some dhania, some just powdered dhania. Some need grated onion, some diced, some sliced, some none at all. Same with potatoes and tomatoes. I cannot figure out the intricacies of fine cooking. Also, I lack the patience and am very lazy. There are people who love to cook. I would be glad to leave cooking to them and rather sit down and enjoy their efforts and praise them for those. I really am in awe of people who can stir up dish after dish without even shedding a drop of sweat. I feel tired just after cooking 1 item. My husband has also given up hope about expecting good food from me. He just grumpily eats up what I can cook and himself picks up ladles and utensils when he wants to eat something special. He is even a better cook than me. But alas, the ropes of the kitchen still stay in my hand even though I would have gladly transferred them. Sometimes when the planets and stars align, some dishes do get cooked well and end up tasty but they are rarer than the blue moon in the sky. Psst... since my kids have a clean palate, they kind of like my food. Thank God for that!

(continued from the post Scene 1) And ... Splash... Our fall is broken by the water. But where did it come from, I wondered, as cold water engulfed me. There was no pool or lake or anything water near our building. Whatever, as I struggled to break the surface for some air, I thought only about the baby. I can see her crib, it’s floating on the water, bobbing up and down. I have to get to her. I start struggling. But I don’t know swimming! How will I reach the baby? I am gasping for breath, frantically moving my hands and legs but one cannot learn how to swim in minutes. I am praying please give me strength, somehow give me the power, maybe some superpower, but I was going no where... just gulping in water. My dear baby! Suddenly the scene changes! I hear someone calling out to me. With my nose just above the water I struggle to turn. And lo and behold! My husband is standing there on the edge with our little one in his arms and the older one besides him. But how? They both are calling out to me, trying to say something which I cannot hear over the sound of the water. Moreover, now that my babies were safe, my body was giving up. I was losing my strength to try and stay afloat. I was gradually giving up. My eyes were shutting down. My hands and legs had stopped moving. I knew I had not much time but still I felt myself smiling. My precious people were all safe. I let go. And as the cold water tightened it’s grip around my neck I heard a soft music beginning to play. I wondered, is this how life leaves the body, with music all around us. The melodious music is growing louder. It is coming nearer and nearer to me. I can feel it very close entering my body, touching my soul, now I can almost touch it if I can just reach out my hand and I instinctively do that... Clung o dorema, clung o dorema, clung o dorema... The alarm in my phone is ringing. I am sitting on my bed, rubbing my eyes, trying to figure out where I was. Clung o dorema! With one shut eye, I switch off the alarm. I say a prayer in my mind. Let this nightmare stay where it was, just in my head. I have had a water dream and therefore I have to now attend to an emergency. Adios amigos. So long.

I am witnessing The ravages of time In a loving relationship That once was mine. The scents that once enchanted us, Have evaporated into the air. The songs that once made us dance, Have long lost their flair. The tree that once saw us hold hands Still remembers our beautiful story, But lost is the charm we felt Standing under its welcoming glory. The unending walks we had, With their lively conversations, Have now ended up on the couch, Full of our trepidations. Oh! That once more we can bring back- Those warm hugs on a wintry morning The cozy cuddles in a lazy afternoon, The ardent kisses behind the curtains, And the caresses under the moon, The lingering finger over our bodies, The tingling tickles in- between, The running of your fingers through my hair, And us giggling like sweet sixteen. Will time take away this love from us Like so many before us have lost, Will our hearts be barren and bare too, Or can we still hope it will last?

In all probabilities it is a normal day. I am doing my chores in the kitchen. My husband, Amit, is attending another zoom meeting, the 3rd one since morning, in his room. His voice becomes muffled over the whistle of the pressure cooker as it releases its steam. I can feel the irritated looks he is sending in my directions but I cannot ask the whistle to make less noise, hence I ignore. He can shut the door if he wants. I wondered whether Wfh because of the pandemic, was a boon or a bane. Our 4 year old is also at home. He had just finished his online classes and was at that moment playing. He was humming a new song that had been taught by their teacher- a good morning song. He could be a good singer, I was thinking. He had good sense of tune. Maybe we can put him in some classes, will have to ask around, I made a mental note. I was enjoying his little voice when suddenly there was a booming noise. I look out the window. We live in a tenth floor apartment. Everything seemed normal from up here. I turned around to go back in when there is that noise again, BOOOM! This one felt closer. Then the floor rumbled a bit. Instinctively I supported myself against the wall. Then it rumbled again, a stronger one that I couldn’t stand straight. Earthquake! Amit came rushing towards me, worry written on his face. ‘Did you feel it?’ he asked. I nodded my head as I rushed past him to pick up our kid. ‘Quick, let’s run downstairs’, Amit called. ‘From the 10th floor?’ I asked. ‘We have no choice’ he replied as we heard another BOOM and a loud crash. The building besides ours was crumbling down in front of our eyes. Wasting no more time, we rushed to the door. Amit opened it up and we stepped outside as our feet felt the floor beneath us trembling. I had just crossed the threshold, when suddenly there was a wail... Where is our younger one, our 6 month old! With panic in my eyes I handed over our son to my husband and rushed back in. The walls had started cracking, things were tumbling down all over, I could feel the building start to tilt but where was my little one? Through the dust and rubble I can hear her wails but I cannot see her. Amit was calling out to us. He wanted to take our son to safety. Things were looking grim but where was my little girl! I cannot leave her all alone now, can I? I squinted and looked into every room but where was she? Why do we have so many rooms? Her cries were becoming louder, I knew she was near as I started crawling on the floor because standing straight was becoming harder. I called out to her, she responded with a wail but I still could not see her. And then suddenly there she was. Smiling at me, standing in her crib, her hands outstretched. She was expecting me to pick her up. I ran towards her but what was this? My feet were heavy. I could not run! Something was pulling me back! I could not turn to look at it! It was grasping me by my dress, stopping me from going forward! Let me go, let me go, I could not cry. My lips were sealed! I was screaming inside and scramming but was standing in the same spot. My baby is giggling now, expecting me to reach her any moment but I cannot go. My hands are outstretched but I am not moving forward. Help! help! help! And then I watched in horror with a soundless scream stuck in my mouth as that part of the building crashed, taking the crib with it. I saw it falling, down down down and then suddenly I was free. The invisible hand holding on to my dress had let it go and I also tumbled down into the abyss. I felt my body becoming light as with my arms in the front I also fell, fast, the gravity pulling me. Down, down, down! Me and my baby locked eyes and smiled and then...

I write when I am happy, I write when I am sad, I write when I feel worthy, Or when I am feeling bad. I write when love is everywhere, I write when love is enough, I write when love is far from me And when the times, they get tough. I write when a loved soul departs, I write when sorrow is near, I write when the heart is in pain And my eyes have a tear. I write when I see something wrong, I write when something is unjust, I write when a lie is told And someone breaks a trust. I write when the summer is near, I write when it's about to rain. I write when the autumn sheds And the snow knocks the window pane. I write the words that come to mind, I write the words unknown. I write the words that touch a chord And the heart in me had foreknown. I write to express my feelings, I write to show I care, I write to tell I wonder And the pouring words lay my thoughts bare. I write because I love to write, I write because I want, I write because there is so much to write And without it live I cannot.

#gratitudeattitude #writeups When this topic came up, this was the first incident that came to my mind. We will forever remain grateful to our neighbours here in a foreign land who helped us out at a very critical time. 🙏🏼 Amidst the pandemic last year, I came to know I was pregnant with our second child. Elation, worry and my pregnancy kept we up all night. For our firstborn, we were able to travel to India to welcome him. However, chances of that faded for the second one because not only all air travel was closed but also India was amidst the covid crisis. So it was decided that we would have the whole journey of welcoming the new baby in a foreign land. We didn’t leave any stone unturned to look for a nanny or a helper to be with us for a few months, but to no avail. Quite a few answered to our queries but none came knocking our door. My panic as to how will I manage the household, the new baby and also my elder one, kept increasing my insomnia tenfolds. And also at that time due to various restrictions, patients were allowed only 1 accompanying person at the hospital. So where would we keep our son while I would be admitted was a question that much bothered us. It was then that they formed a small whatsapp group which co-ordinated to have food delivered to us from their kitchen for the duration of my stay at the hospital for my husband and my kid. And not only for those days, they continued to do it for a period of one whole month while I was handling a new born and was recovering from a ceaserean delivery. They also took turns to take care of our son when my husband had to do the hospital visits. And they did it without any fanfare. Continuously asking for our choices, whatever we wanted or liked, different food at three different times of the day- they will never know the impact they left on us. What they did being complete strangers, sometimes our near ones don’t tend to do. It might be a little help on their part but was immensely helpful for us at a very delicate time. To not worry about what food we will have next helped us take care of other matters better. We will never be able to return this great favour and don’t even try to because it is above that but we hope to extend this forward to someone else. Their kindness will remain with us till our last breath and will remind us to be kind to others. Our gratitude for them will be lifelong.

My Street pet dogs. As I had written in my previous writeup, I never had a pet dog for myself. But that never dettered me from loving these furry beings and all the love that I could never give to a home pet I gave to the street dogs and called them my street pet dogs. And fortunately, my parents were supportive of this too as this took them off the hook to give me a pet. There was Bhola. He ate all that we gave. We used to make extra chappatis to give him at night. And he had figured out how to let us know that he was hungry. He used to come and nudge the iron gate in the front of the house. The lock made a banging sound and that was our signal that Bhola had come. He got food at nearly all the houses in our lane but we were his go to house when he was hungry. We had to leave him behind when we changed houses. Then there was Kalu, with a star on his forehead. We were his breakfast stop. He never came at any other time of the day, only early in the morning, somedays even when we were still not awake. Kalu would come and bark a low bark first to let ua know of his arrival. If we were late, the bark increased in both numbers and volume and turned into a howl if we did not acknowledge his presence. On hearing his bark if we responded with an "ashchi(coming in bengali)", then he would wait quietly or else the aforementioned result. One day we heard passersbys discussing him and how he howled to let us know. Sadly, one day he just stopped coming. The latest was a family that actually adopted our street rather than the other way round. A daddy, mommy and their 7 puppies. Unfortunately though, only 3 of the puppies survived into adolescence and beyond(attaching pics). They used to just lie down in our front verandah of the ground floor or ran along with us when we were going somewhere or returning. At night they were our guarddogs and in the morning just came for food and cuddles. One day a street vendor raised his voice on my mother over some issue about the price of an item and the daddy dog came out of nowhere and just started growling at him. They received food from many of households but we also received backlash from many others. Since they were so many in number, their barking and their presence disturbed and frightened quite a few people. Quite a few of them, even some neighbours had threatened that they will poison the dogs. Well, eventually one by one, the dogs went away in search of other territories and only the mommy was left who was spayed by an NGO. Over all these years I have had encounters with myriads of street pet dogs and each with their own unique traits and personalities are forever etched in my memory. Many left when they went in search of new territories, a few died of old age, some did not even make it to their adoloscence but I loved them with all my heart and they reciprocated with all their being. Although a conditional relationship regarding to food, their love was nonetheless unconditional like that of any other house dog. Their happiness on seeing me and the love they showered was by no means untrue. I don't know whether I will ever have a pet dog but for sure I will forever have a street pet dog wherever I go.