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Spice of life: With mind of his own, Makhhan melts hearts
Makhhan Singh has a demanding, bossy and wayward streak in him. Many a time I find him at the kitchen door with a quizzical stare, looking askance at the meal served to him.
Makhhan Singh’s arrival coincided with that of my adorable 10-month-old twin granddaughters and my daughter from Mumbai.
He joined initially as a guard though we already had one. My son insisted on Makhhan becoming part of our help force at home and in spite of being wary and uncertain I gave in eventually.
The learning and discipline required for the duties of a guard will take time to acquire but as of now Makhhan has found a friend in our gardener. Both of them peer through the sitting room French windows at 6 every morning, grinning ear to ear as they witness the gleeful whoops and triumphant cries at their sighting by the twins. My daughter and I grudgingly smile back, our eyes sticky with lack of sleep, while the babies blow bubbles, spout gibberish and gesticulate ecstatically at them.
As I look, Makhhan and the gardener then walk around the lawn, poking into flowerbeds and raking leaves. By and by I am noticing that Makhhan Singh has a demanding, bossy and wayward streak in him. Many a time I find him at the kitchen door with a quizzical stare, looking askance at the meal served to him. I am appalled at the cheek! Also, he seems unhappy with his living quarters and refuses to sit by the gate as ordered.
To make matters worse, he is just not getting along with our old guard. Very cheekily he tries to waylay him, provoke him while uttering incomprehensible and rude sounds whenever they come across each other. My old guard, a modest and affable fellow is taken aback at the insouciance of this latest recruit but is too well mannered to make an issue of it.
What with the little children, their maids and all the house work along with my classes, I was coming to the end of my tether and in sheer frustration I called my son.
“Ashwajeet,” I complained, “This Makhhan is the limit. He refuses to listen to me, has a mind of his own and looks like he will not take his job seriously. I already have too much on my hands. Can we just send him away?”
“Mom,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Are you sure? Why don’t you think it over for a few more days and then decide. Makhhan will be heartbroken. Give him time to settle down. I know he is just what we need at home.”
I continued my tirade, citing examples of how over worked the kitchen staff already was and how difficult it was to deal with this eccentric and wayward new entry.
My mind made up, I walked towards the verandah with my cup of coffee. Suddenly, a warm nose nudged my ankle. I peered down and there was Makhhan, my beagle. His limpid, kohl-lined eyes wet and shining, the silky, long ears twitching with excitement while brushing the floor, a wiry brown tail wagging furiously, he looked at me with a love so deep and pure, oblivious to my thoughts and plans, innocently unaware that I was arranging for his exit.
How could my heart not melt!
Of course I gathered him in my arms. Of course I tickled him under his chin. Of course I cooed nonsensical baby talk to him. Of course I was only kidding when I said I wanted to let go of him.
As for our old guard, Don, the labrador, and Makhhan are the best of friends.
I sometimes catch them hobnobbing with each other and wonder if they are talking about me. pallavisingh358@gmail.com
The writer is a Jalandhar-based freelance contributor
