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Monthly Archives: May 2022
So long, Tokyo
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The call came early this morning.
“Tokyo has died and we are all distraught.”
What? Dead? How did that even happen?
Tokyo was a starling chick that had fallen from its nest a week ago and was being looked after by her human carers “until she is strong enough to fly and join her flock.”
Though I am thousands of miles away and had never seen her, but for a small video, I felt the pain instantly. Losing a pet is always painful, whether it’s a bird or a dog or a cat, no matter how much time it has been with you. The pain – and a feeling of helplessness, is immense. Tokyo was the life of the household in the last few days, oblivious of the family pug, who wasn’t all too pleased with her constant chirping. The “little lady” followed her carer around the house and even sat on the kitchen shelf, making high-decibel sounds throughout the day, and slept in a customized basket at night. However, she woke up gasping this morning and soon stopped breathing.
Though we will never know what happened, and it’s not important now, what we do know is the immense void it has left in her carers’ lives. It’s a feeling only a true pet-lover knows and can appreciate.
I was told Tokyo’s mother came regularly to check on her and was seemingly happy at the progress the chick was making. What would she be thinking now?
Pets bring so much joy in our lives and help us stay sane. I would know as a ‘dog dad’ to a 15-year old in the twilight of his life, and a seven-year old who makes sure there is never a dull moment in the house.
Tokyo is gone because that’s the way it was meant to be but the very short association makes us once again feel life is so unpredictable whether for a human or any other living being.
May she keep singing across the Rainbow Bridge.
Amen.
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‘It’ll never be the same again’ – Covid took more than just lives
When I recently made my way to this old traditional coffee shop in the back lanes of Muharraq, Bahrain, I expected to find the place as bustling as ever. Instead, there were only these three gentlemen sitting there waiting for the place to open.
Why is it like that, I asked? “Most of those who came here earlier have died – many of old age and many more have succumbed to Corona,” said one of them. “The last two years have been very traumatic,” he added.
“We have been coming here for years,” said a second gentleman. “We are retired and gathered here to talk, have coffee, the sheesha and exchange notes. The pandemic shut down such places and by the time restrictions were eased, we realized many of our friends weren’t around any more.”
The third gentleman said the opening hours of the shop have been severely curtailed as well. “We come here and wait for it to open – but it’s certainly not like the old times – the zing is missing. People do come but it’ll never be the same again.”
The unoccupied tables and the looks on the gents’ faces tell a story, of course – and it’s not a happy one.
I dug out a “happy” picture of the same coffee shop taken before the pandemic disrupted our lives and found so much of life, energy and vigour in the shot.
Hopefully, this Muharraq icon will be “reborn” one day and come back to its old glorious days.
MANDEEPSINGS 