His choice

Gasing was put down at 3.45pm, Tuesday 14 July 2009. He was just over 2 years of age. This photo was taken the day before, on 13 July.

He was very sick. Dr Prem, the vet had diagnosed his condition as severe renal failure. Maybe 25% of one of his kidneys was still functioning, the other had completely failed, he said in his gentle voice. There are a lot of toxins in his system now. Its like a garbage dump where stuff had been left for days and days, and its rotting and keeps piling up. After a while, the toxins would jam his system, and he would have seizures, likely not survive.

What could I do, except to let him die a peaceful death. He who was beautiful and strong and graceful. He who is deserving of dignity. I decided then, that he need not suffer anymore. That he should move along this existence, and transit into another space, in our arms, hearing our voices in his ears as he left this life.

And so that was how it was. He knew before that he would go soon. In his eyes, I saw the sadness, the fear and finally the graceful acceptance of his fate. He walked into the house, sat by us to say goodbye. He walked over to the undertaker, wagging his tail, licking the stranger's hands, and stood by him as if to say he was willing and ready to go, to go now.

And that was how it was. Gasing came as he left; out of choice, his own volition. He chose me, he who loved me. And in return, I loved him as well as I could love anything. Even though he assumed a certain sense of dominance over Ally and Bella, and muscled his way around them, he would run towards me, ears flat, tail wagging as I walked through the front gate daily. He would jump with great joy, complete and unrestrained. And my heart would leap too, with love and thankfulness for his happiness at the sight of me. It was pure and simple. I will always miss him.

Gopeng

I went to Gopeng a few days ago, on my way to Ipoh to interview someone from the Perak State Government. My habit to stop and stare. It was worth the pause, as it turned out. Gopeng despite its name which sounds almost a reprimand, is a town of rambling buildings whispering of another time. Patterned eaves, fine dioramas, hand carved graced the forehead of each face of each building. Idyllic patterns of doves, or the mythical splendour of the phoenix and dragon entwined in the embrace of their eternal dance conjures a time in the past when such ideals and beliefs held true. In our day and age, the myths live within the walls of a computer screen and rarely inhabits our imagination. A loss I think, for imagination is the creator of the machine, and the creator is certainly greater than the creation. We settle for less, and we do not know.

Gopeng had sprung from such dreams though. The dreams of many Chinese miners who moved ceaselessly on its landscape in the 19th century in search of riches. It was tin that brought them, a tin dream that became a reality for a few, and remained a desire for many more.

Today, the mines are gone, but remains are there yet. The lines of magnificent buildings, 120 feet long, wide and high once the home of large extended Chinese families who lived in close proximity because they were so commanded by the head of the clan. The money brought many into obedience, but a few generations on, the bounds have already become undone. The moment they could, they had broken free because the closeness often bred disdain, anger and harsh words that cannot be taken back, cannot be forgotten. And so it is said, that in a wealthy family, the money will be lost by its 3rd generation.

Maybe it is true. Maybe by then too, the houses that once held the sound of so many voices are merely reverberations from the past. If you stay still within the crumbling walls of the old buildings, and strain your ear you may be lucky enough to catch the whisper of its past. Listen, for all that remains is but a wisp, a fragile insubstantial wisp that may disappear completely one day. the saddest thing is that, no one will notice its quiet exit, and life will move along. We will not even notice its demise. An unforgivable kind of ignorance that none of us should be guilty of.