Unda Kannan or the round eyed one passed away today. With a tinge of ceremony I buried him in the watery grave (toilet). He has left behind a legacy of silence. It seems as if he was trying to say something from his water world. He was elegant when he moved around in the limited square shaped world which I had provided him. I used to sit outside this world and look at his movements. He once had a partner. They both had filled my world with colors and animation. His partner left him some 3-4 months back.
(Entry dated – sometime in 2006 maybe in the month of February)
(Entry dated – sometime in 2006 maybe in the month of February)
Quoted from Outlook magazine: Outlook magazine editor - Vinot Mehta on Funny
We’ve had bereavement in the family. Funny passed away a fortnight ago. Funny was one of the three stray dogs we had adopted. We called her funny because she had a crooked front leg, cauliflower ears, and when she ran she was a comic sight. I have never seen a dog so weary, loving, emaciated and slow. She had borne children, she had seen all there is to see; she seldom barked or pestered. She was supremely confident and supremely indifferent. Funny was stoic, patiently waiting to die. My wife and I fed her each morning and evening and the only time she perked up was when we approached her. She loved getting her stomach tickled, that was her sole pleasure in life.
Editor was extremely displeased at the attention we paid Funny. When it turned freezing cold, we would quietly sneak her in late at night was Editor was asleep. We made a bed for her, covered her with a blanket, and gave her some milk. She slept like a baby in the home she had ever known. In the morning Editor, having smelt her, would bark furiously. My wife would take her out and put her back on the road. She died of neglect. When we buried her close to Nizamuddin railway station, she looked completely at peace.
We miss Funny, for both of us life’s not the same without her.
We’ve had bereavement in the family. Funny passed away a fortnight ago. Funny was one of the three stray dogs we had adopted. We called her funny because she had a crooked front leg, cauliflower ears, and when she ran she was a comic sight. I have never seen a dog so weary, loving, emaciated and slow. She had borne children, she had seen all there is to see; she seldom barked or pestered. She was supremely confident and supremely indifferent. Funny was stoic, patiently waiting to die. My wife and I fed her each morning and evening and the only time she perked up was when we approached her. She loved getting her stomach tickled, that was her sole pleasure in life.
Editor was extremely displeased at the attention we paid Funny. When it turned freezing cold, we would quietly sneak her in late at night was Editor was asleep. We made a bed for her, covered her with a blanket, and gave her some milk. She slept like a baby in the home she had ever known. In the morning Editor, having smelt her, would bark furiously. My wife would take her out and put her back on the road. She died of neglect. When we buried her close to Nizamuddin railway station, she looked completely at peace.
We miss Funny, for both of us life’s not the same without her.
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