This is a real incident that happened in my life.
The entire experience was so thrilling and full of suspense that I felt compelled to put it down on paper — for fond memories.
29 July 2009 | 13:53
We — my two sons and I — had been dreaming for quite some time of raising a puppy.
Siddu was in his final year of engineering, and Yashu was studying in the 12th class. It had remained just a dream, largely because my wife had a strong aversion to pets.
Around that time, during a function, Bhimaratha Santhi to my parents who have crossed 80 years of age, in our village, we were traditionally required to perform a puja to Kalabhairav — a dog — as part of the event. Ironically, we could not find a dog to perform the ritual, though the rest of the function went on without issue.
We quietly used that moment in our favour to finally bring a puppy home.
With a little persuasion — and some emotional leverage — we ensured my wife reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. Before she could withdraw that nod, we surprised her with a 45-day-old, grey Labrador puppy.
The house instantly came alive.
We called relatives from the neighbourhood to share our joy over the newest and cutest member of our family. My wife, though still grumbling about the additional responsibility and effort, slowly began adjusting to the presence of this tiny life.
We unanimously named him BHAIRAV.
The name caught on instantly. Friends, neighbours, and even passers-by began calling out “Bhairav” as they walked past our house. He became a topic of conversation in almost every discussion we had.
All of us took part in caring for him — doctor visits, alternate-day baths, toys, shampoos, soaps, and a bright neck belt. Though my wife maintained a careful distance from Bhairav, she alone knew exactly when he had to be fed, and ensured his food was prepared on time, every time.
Bhairav, still learning to keep himself clean, would often dirty the surroundings. Before my wife noticed, one of us would quickly clear things up — a silent, unspoken pact to prevent her aversion from growing.
Bhairav grew extremely friendly. There was hardly a minute when his name did not appear in our conversations. Whenever we stepped out for shopping, something for Bhairav inevitably found its way into the list — a toy, a leash, a soap, or a collar.
After the terminal holidays, Siddu had to return to college.
Those were difficult days.
Bhairav was just two months old, and during the daytime, no one would be at home. We had no option but to leave him alone until evening. We requested our tenant to feed him at noon and keep an eye on him until one of us returned. Without fail, my wife would call during lunchtime to enquire about Bhairav.
On one particular Sunday morning, it was my turn to take Bhairav out for a stroll.
While walking near our house, I received a call from a friend. I sat on a cement bench, talking, while Bhairav played with the grass along the footpath. The conversation lasted about ten minutes.
When I stood up and looked around…
Bhairav was nowhere in sight.
The neck belt lay open.
It must have slipped off.
Assuming he had wandered nearby, I searched around — the footpath, nearby corners, familiar spots. There was no trace of him.
A strange uneasiness began to settle in.
I hurried home to seek help.
This is Part 1 of the Bhairav Stories series.
Part 2: Bhairav – The Search Begins