What is your Home?

'I want to go home'. We've all said this at some point. So, where is that home? It is where the lights keep burning with a hope that you will return someday. It is where you retreat when tired, hurt and bleeding. My home are my strays, who have rescued and redeemed me. My dogs!

How Homeless Strays became my Home

When I was battling depression-anxiety, had just had a baby whom I couldn't feed, because I wasn't lactating, my husband and in-laws took charge. I lost my voice, self-esteem, confidence and the best part of my life. And then I found them.

I had earlier rescued a pup while still in college, but had to let him go after a few months because the authorities didn't agree. He was the only person to walk me out of the campus for the final time; no words, a dignified silence and poignant loyalty ruling the scene. No fuss.

He kept looking as my auto-rickshaw vanished around the corner; we both knew we'd never meet again in this lifetime. How fussy would that be, if it were a human? Words make separations difficult. Next came Lokkhi and Bhuto, both feisty girls. We were quite the triumvirate!

I was working now, had government accommodation, and could buy them food. Years passed, Bhuto developed cataract, Lokkhi arthritis. I was pregnant! We all celebrated, but then came my depression and the incessant tinnitus in my right ear. It wouldn't go, I learnt years later.

An early maternity leave and a brief farewell from my friends. I never found them after the six-month-long hiatus. Some say dog-catchers had left them somewhere. I knew that Indies are territorial; they wouldn't have survived anywhere else. I know how it feels how painful it is.

Coming back to the time when I was dying an excruciating death of hope, belief and spirit, Jelly and her new-born pups came. I finally found a meaning to my existence. These babies needed me. They had rescued and salvaged me; all my pent-up love had finally found recipients.

If my opinions were not being heard at home, it no longer mattered; I had found another home where I had Blackberry, Scooby, Bhuru and Gogo, who were joined by Pompom, Tomtom, Hauhau and Lily soon. Sadly, Blackberry was the first to go from unknown causes, followed by Scooby.

'Scoob' was my soul-dog just like her mother Jelly is, so when she succumbed to Parvo, I let a piece of my soul go away with her. Next Tom joined them, after being run over by an inconsiderate driver. I could crumble, but the others needed me. That was my strength, my purpose.

Today, I know what home is, because of the strays who rescued me. They helped me mend my relationship with my son and my husband. They always kept the lamp burning on the porch, because they knew I would return, when I myself didn't. Find your own homes like I found mine.