Some part of my heart lies buried under a peepul sapling over Inca’s grave.
At 11 am on Monday, 28 August 2023 was when he last walked a long round on our school campus. At 2 pm, however, he went down, his hind legs unable to support him to stand up and since that day, Inca has fought like a warrior against death’s gradual encroachment.
Earlier this year, in April, at twelve years of age, he underwent a major surgery on a tumour on the right side of his neck, and recovered miraculously. He was like an active young pup again, jumping up to share my bed and usurp my pillows at night, running and playing with Cujo (a year year his senior) all around the school campus. But the growth came back, unknown to us, on his spleen and liver. He slowed down again in July-August, and the vet initially diagnosed it as a typical Labrador age related weakness in the hind quarter muscles while his nerves and joints were okay. Physiotherapy and hydrotherapy were key. So, we proceeded with that. Then an ultrasonography revealed the cancerous growth on his spleen and liver. Next, his heart suffered a partial failure and fluid accumulated in his lungs. He was also detected with the tick borne babesia parasite. After remaining tick free all his active days, he must have been bitten during his outdoor physio. His liver tests next showed the onset of jaundice and related problems. Finally, his kidneys began to succumb too.
At the age of twelve, over the last twenty odd days, Inca fought a veritable internal Mahabharat, struggling for breath and he finally won through to a heroic end. His vet called him a champion and a phoenix, given his powerful resilient grasp on retaining consciousness of his surroundings despite his body gradually giving way.
My little warrior has been my continual companion day and night, at school and at home for the past twelve years. He arrived home on 6 April 2011 as a much awaited advance birthday gift for my daughter Akshaya. But as I collected him and became his caregiver from day one, he seemed to have imprinted on me. He not only walked into the hearts of everyone in the family (and everyone at school) but he also became my shadow, ‘dogging’ my steps as we built up an almost telepathic connect. A glance and a smile, a morning cuddle, baths and walks and shared snacks, and endless memories of togetherness from his puppyhood onwards have all forged an inexplicable inter species connection between us. It ends now, and I, the poorer. Cujo is the third member of our threesome and like me, he’s desolate. He’s two years older than Inca and I hadn’t thought that his younger bro and best friend would leave him behind in the end.
What a helpless feeling it is, to wait and watch for the inevitable end, as the chromosomal programming ticks away to its inexorable finish. Death encapsulates the onlooker, even as it takes away a beloved family member. The physical world seems remote, its sounds and sights and superficial meaning distanced by the grim presence of death. All the existential philosophy I’ve read has not given me as immediate and urgent a realisation of the meaning of life, as these past twenty tortured days and interminable nights of watching Inca’s intense battle for life. One feels a vast deep despair at being trapped in a universe where death is the irreversible end of all companionship.
Death may irrevocably win, but in Inca’s case, life has narrowly snatched the laurel wreath of courage from its grim jaws. While I live and breathe, I will continue to love, respect, remember and feel bereft without Inca, even as he continues to intangibly imbue every moment and space of my life with his absence.
His travail ended at 3.35 pm on Saturday, 16 September 2023. Agnostic as I am, I yet chanted the Maha Mrityunjay mantra and Hanuman Chalisa in his ears as his last shallow breaths departed. The ghee lamps lit at his graveside and in our shared bedroom kept vigil all night, as I read the Bhagavad Gita and meditated on the meaning of life, death and soul in the context of Inca’s magnanimous and yet inexplicably vanished personality.
“Goodnight sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”