Indian Writing

My dog came with us to the FBD book sale this morning. It’s a treat for him to go out on the street, since our building has a large garden and so we usually don’t risk taking him out into the street. But Sunday mornings are mellow, and he likes to smell all the interesting smells on the road, so we took him with us. I told A~ that we could take turns waiting with him outside the exhibition hall, but when we reached, the FBD people – who know us well – waved their arms and signalled to me to bring Whisky inside.

So Whisky went to a book sale for the first time in his life. No, he didn’t buy any books – we did that – but he met two very cute little girls, who came up to him and patted him continuously for the half hour that we spent in the sale. The older girl, who must have been ten or eleven years old, told me that she has three parrots, Sweety, Rocky and Mithu, and would like to have dogs. Then she added, with the cutest smile: Maybe we’ll have a farm, and then get some horses too! That made me think of my childhood, when I would curl up in a corner of our garden with those horse books by Christine Pullein Thompson, and dream of having a horse one day..

Then this little girl told me all about her parrots. She only knows the age of one of them, it’s one and a half years old. They got the other two as already grown birds, with their wings clipped…so the two other birds don’t fly. But the youngest does. I taught him to fly, says the little girl proudly.

All three birds can speak various words, though it’s the youngest that can speak the most: Mithu, Thank you, Hello, How are you, Naughty, Hello…

Whisky is great with children, and loves attention, so he just wagged his tail endlessly like the god Lab that he is, shook hands lazily as if he was dispensing favours, and grinned at all and sundry, like some royal canine waving to the plebs.

What did we buy? Far too many books, as usual, including The Baburnama, with an intro by Rushdie.

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