Veer-the brave one.

About a year ago,my sister came running into my room,saying “Didi,Didi dale just delivered!! (Dale was one of our beautiful cats FYI). We both ran to where dale was nestled with her kitten,he was small,scrawny,and probably couldn’t even be identified as a kitten/hybrid version of what a cat looks like.He measured about 4 cms long with smaller paws,and a small tail but a loud,strong cry.Dale herself was surprised a bit ,the poor cat wondered what she had given birth to,and after several futile attempts to feed him milk she gave up,and walked away from the tub in which she sat to eat food.My sister and I were pretty astonished at the cold attitude of my cat towards her offspring,and gave several attempts to push her back towards him,but Dale stubbornly refused maybe knowing at the back of her mind that he won’t make it,and hence left him in peace.

The little kitten’s strong cries continued for about two days more,in the meantime our other kittens with the curiousity of a cats (of course!),initially intimidated by the loud wails, then snuggled up with the kitten, to give him warmth ,giving our little hero the boost he needed to live.Dale also gave in to her motherly instincts and went over to feed him.He survived ,and was christened Veer the brave one.

The sad course of our little Veer’s story was that he in due course of his little adventures probably ate a poisonous insect or something and he developed a generalised myotonia(weakness of all the muscles in his body).Despite all odds of his ailment,he fought tooth and nail to be given love,eat hungrily at food,drink tremendous amounts of milk and even fight with kittens of his size for the warmth of our laps for comfort.

He lived for about a month of his birth,and finally succumbed a day or two after my dad passed away.Loss was not as much a  new a friend to us and although we felt bad we lost the little brave soul,it was his fighting spirit we speak of till today.

Grandma told me a similar tale of my own father,who was born premature in those days at home,where all the healthcare you got was a mid wife,delivering her baby on one dark night on Fifth of  November 1950.His small size,poor breathing efforts made it a convincing approach by the midwife to leave him in the hands of destiny to live or not live.Dad fought then and became the man he was,and it was sad that both these brave souls lost their lives in the same week one after another.

Veer and my dad both taught me that despite having not a single fighting chance,despite being alone,being small ,helpless and cornered, they both fought tooth and nail at that moment against all odds and against their misfortunes destiny to prove that courage,bravery is not medicine required to be injected,it’s built in and manifests in each one of us.

It just remains your choice to grasp that blade of grass when drowning in water,stand tall and act strong in front of your demons,look for the light through the crack in the doorframe and live to see another day.So yes being brave isn’t easy,it’s probably one of the most difficult things one has to do,but it’s possible ,it’s happened before,and they haven’t been superhumans,just normal living people like you and me.

This was little veer.

And this was my dad.


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