Eye of the Oracle: December 2018

14.12.2018

Like the most unexpected beautiful little things in life, he simply arrived one day. Chotu was his name.
The first few careless moments with him will always be deeply engraved in your memory as a mark of simpler times - one without much rhyme and reason, without the pretence of something logical, something with meaning and hard concrete sense. Something just for the sheer childish happiness and delight and love of it. Chotu, we will miss you. I will miss you.

Just as I look back, I recal a tiny moment of sadness and loss. He came with another - a little she - a sweetheart. But her heart was too frail to survive this ruthlessness of everything real. She just closed her eyes and said good bye. Chotu stayed, strong and willing. But maybe, this left Chotu alone to experience the remaining part of this entity called life.

Chotu, my little motu rabbit - I don't know when exactly you got that name. I guess there was no defined time, the name just started existing like the silly little things in life we don't pay a lot of attention to - but which end up mattering most to us when we reflect to the moments that have passed like footsteps on the sands of time. Mum once called you that in her love. Her warm caring voice calling you when she got back from office, asking you how you are, echoes in the back of my mind.

Mum in recent times talked a lot about Dad wishing to let Chotu away. I think he felt the pain of him being alone - only one of his kind, staying in a trap of metal bars, just living a programmed life. He wanted to let him away to his freedom. Now this brought two different (disconnected?) thought horizontals in my mind -

1. Aren't we all living in an isolated cage of programmed dynamics? Much like Chotu, we were born free, wild, notorious, innocent. But somewhere down the line, living in this cage for so long, we forgot what it meant to get out - we found comfort and security and predictability and sense and linearity and logic in this little cage we were in, and so we stayed back. We grew up, 'matured', and slowly inched towards our end. What my father provided him was an escape - only because HE could empathize this isolation which Chotu felt in his little universe.
2. Chotu was the one home when we two were rushing in our 80% of our 'lives'. Now that he is gone, a natural low surrounds me thinking how it would be all alone at home. Could he have thought about himself and let Chotu be. Instead he thought about Chotu and let himself be. How much strength does it take to surrender. I just hope for isolation to not be where Chotu was. And to walk along is my responsibility.

Closing my eyes, I hope he's jumping, snorting, feasting on the delicacies of his green veggies, munching and munching away in happiness, messing around with his fellow ones and standing strong, stubborn, and notorious with a spark of happiness in his eyes.

That you Chotu for coming into our lives, and thank you God and Dad for bringing Chotu into our lives. Farewell.