Canine Chronicles Part.3

The people of India posit polarizing views on our stray dogs. Some are of the opinion that they are to be treated with respect, courtesy, and dignity, but sadly, some inhuman people here treat them with callousness, ruthlessness, and unconscionability. They fail to see our street dogs as man's best friend, and something unknown in their conscience acts as impetuses to their unjustified aggression towards dogs.

But why? Why, is it that we shun the unwritten guidelines of morality and threaten dogs with a hand that strikes in lieu of a hand that helps? Where is our humanity? Is it to feel powerful through attacking a less powerful target? Is it because of their lack of empathy?

What is crucial to know is that, none of these reasons are ever rightly justified unless there are rare cases of self defense. One must understand that dogs, like human beings, have emotions, and have every right to live as much as we do. Some people either seem to misread some emotions displayed by dogs as aggresion by barking and tail wagging, and as a result, tend to lash out on the dog either verbally or physically. Some inexcusably see them as a nuisance, even though the humans are almost always the initial perpetrators. Some are also raised without values of empathy or sympathy. Due to this, they view them as pests and objects rather than sentient lives.

All of the above points bring us to this fact - our country needs to educate our people on ethics, especially  towards animals. Whether it's by family, friends, or educational institutions, kindness towards animals is a vital human trait, no matter your background, or unjust views pertaining to how animals should be perceived and treated. Dogs, whether we like it or not, have been a part of human society for over 14,000 years. We have made them a part of our society, and to ostracize and harm them, is simply inequitable.

It is also imperative that us Indians establish shelters, where we house stray dogs, feed them food, give them water, and nurture them. We should expand these shelters when they do not have anyone to adopt them instead of putting these dogs down as we are no one to determine whether they should live based on whether no one wants to adopt them.

Even if they were not initially a part of our society, who are we to judge whether they have the right to live or not? I said it before and I will say it again, they are the most beautiful creatures on this planet, they love unconditionally, they do not ask for more than food, water, and care, and are loyal to whoever they are with, and to be a more civilized country, we must love them and treat them as children of our own.

Canine Chronicles Part.2

 My first dog was Brownie. He was two years older than me. He was born sometime in December of 2005, so our family took the decision of celebrating his birthday on Christmas to celebrate the birth of two holy beings in our lives, Jesus Christ and his gift to us, Brownie. Brownie was one of the most beautifully built dogs that ever lived. He had dark brown eyes with citrus orange hued rings around them, so when you gaze into his eyes it's like a galaxy of memories I cherished with him, and more that I was to cherish in the future. He had long manes below his neck, enhancing his look and making him even more handsome. Brownie was a dog who was loyal to his family, and made us members of his pack. And when I was born as the newest member of the pack, nothing gave me greater joy than irritating him. I'd pet him weirdly, pull his ears and tail, and ride him like a cowboy on a horse. But that was simply just me playing my role as his little brother. As the years went on, he grew to be stronger, smarter, more protective, and more affectionate. He was always nimble and tough, capable of running at high speeds till his last days. By around June 2021, he started to have seizures and his bones grew weak. He peacefully passed away on the June 20, 2021. He will not just remain as someone I hold close to my heart, but as my heart itself, and our family will never forget him.

My second dog was Simba. I was six-and-a-half when she was born. She was one amongst a litter of around six puppies. Three  others were adopted, two died, and the sixth one, Simba, was adopted by us after she accidentally got hit by a car. My mother took her in, we fixed up some water and rice with chicken for her, and we slowly witnessed as she gradually recovered. Here, Brownie was the older brother, I was the middle child, and Simba was our little sister. When Simba was introduced to Brownie, it was challenging for him to adapt to having another dog in the house, but they got along like peas on a pod as the weeks went by. She would annoy him, he would do absolutely nothing about it, and they grew to love each other. I of course, was a part of all the fun. I'd run with them, wrestle with them, feed them, play with them, and I was in the best alliance I could ever be a part of. Simba brought this energetic and hyper aura to our house which we didn't know we needed for our happiness as well. But with her, as the years went by, she would grow weaker and less energetic. She went on to have diabetes when she was approximately 9 years of age, from which she mournfully ascended to heaven shortly  after her tenth birthday on August 1, 2024, and my life has not been the same ever since.

Our third dog was Mogu, named after the popular fruit flavoured drink, Mogu Mogu which our family was addicted to at the time, which was mid-late 2021. She had initially belonged to a friend of my father's, but since that person's family could not take care of her, we took the honour of adopting her as our own, since our family felt empty after Brownie had passed away. She had white fur, light brown patches that matched the colour of her eyes so that there would be a flawlessly leveled synonymity and harmony between these colours for when she would appear in pictures and, I must say, she looked even more elegant in impromptu pictures. She ran the fastest of all our dogs and possessed the stamina of an Olympian track runner on a high dose of caffeine. My most fond memories of her were when I was in the eighth grade, and me, my father and her would try to catch her in our building. All attempts to catch her were unsuccessful, but the process of her slowly being a part of our family, and a part of our hearts was surely successful. Mogu and I were the two siblings that never got along, but had a deep love for one another. We would always playfully bully and irritate each other whenever we got bored, and make up for it when she would sit between my legs as I spent most saturday evenings watching T.V, with a glass mug of ice-cold coffee. Life was pleasant. Almost a year later by May 2022, my father and I went on a trip to the United States for the third time and our grandparents took care of Mogu and Simba. Two weeks into our trip, my aunt had received a horribly distressing and disheartening phone call. Mogu was accidentally hit by a car. Hearing these six dreaded words, processing and interpreting them felt like my heart was hit by the same car going twice as fast. It broke me, and I was struggling to move on, but then I accepted the fact that she lived a good life, a life giving love, and being loved, and her being loved is something I will satisfy till my time comes as well.

Our fourth dog is Boggi. Boggi is one of the smartest, clingiest, most mischievous and caring dogs I am privileged to have in my life. Boggi is my rock, my conduit, and my breath. He is the only dog I have left in my life now, and I am conditioned to love him above all else, along with my other dogs looking down on me from up above. He is wonderfully quirky, incredibly hyperactive throughout the day, and loves spending time with us, but not as much as we loved simply being in his presence. It feels holy being around him. He is a little brother sent from God himself to bring me the best friend anyone can ask for. He never judges me, he never cares about what I do wrong, he always showers me with admiration regardless of everything else that goes awry in my life, and I feel like I did nothing to deserve someone as big a blessing as him. Simply his presence is a remedy to my life's challenges and hardships, an anchor through which I can sustain my faith in living. One look in his adorable, silly big eyes and I know he will never leave my side. I promise to treat him with nothing but respect and adoration till the end of time, and I make it my life mission to do so.

This is what my dogs, and all dogs out there as the heartbeat of the world sent from the word above, mean to me. As much as it agonizes me to lose them to fate, I will always keep them in my heart, and will look forward to the day I join them in heaven.

Canine Chronicles Part.1

 Dogs. The essence of not just family, but of all humanity as our best companion. They are god-given creatures, radiant with mirth and contentedness, spreading joy and laughter with their presence.

They really make up a big part of me and I for one, quite simply fail to visualize my life without them.

As a Christian man, I believe dogs to be god's true children. Given that this belief isn't solely supported by the fact that 'dog' is an anagram of 'god', it's also cause when this species is a blank slate, they are naturally affectionate, loyal, trustworthy and sympathetic. You see, most dogs that shun humans or act aggresively towards them possess that character with the reason being how some humans may have affected them, or the dogs ancestors. This evidently suggests that dogs inherently possess positive qualities. However, us humans have significantly less compunction and ethics. We destroy the earth for our well being, we kill and torture animals for food and entertainment, we steal from each other, kill each other, lie to each other and hurt each other but dogs, are pure of heart. 

No matter what kind of person you are. Wealthy, poor, blessed, unfortunate, a saint, or a sinner, someone unattractive or charming, whether your skin colour or your background is different, dogs couldn't care any less. They love us so unconditionally, it's almost fascinating. They will not judge you by any of these characteristics that us humans use to define or label each other with intentions to either alienate or praise one another. They view you and me as living beings deserving of love, especially when we think that we deserve none ourselves. Dogs are also incredibly loyal and faithful beings. Once dogs form an alliance of love with you, nothing can take your dog away from its attachment to you, and nothing will let them leave your side. 

Now that we have covered all the reaons behind my everlasting love for dogs, I would like to tell you about all the dogs I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

To be continued...

Model Car Memoirs Part.2

 How does one strive for excellence as a die-cast model collector?                                                           

As avid collectors and hobbyists, we secure the goal of looking for the rarest and finest pieces of model cars through thorough scrutinization of the digital and geographical world. The ownership of rarer and more obscure models instills a feeling of joy and enthusiasm which enables us to become more devoted to our hobby. In recent years, India has fostered a growth in the sales of imported diecast cars, and 14 year old me couldnt have wished for news as terrific at the time. I had exhaustively explored the web for these sites where I could get these cars, like the Ferdinand Magellan of the Indian     E-Market. This was the first time I was able to fulfill my fantasy of having vintage carded Hot Wheels cars on my room's walls to gaze at with pride, like a Bond villain admiring his fleet of getaway cars, only three inches across and far less insurable.

                                                    Whenever I had to opportunity to visit the United States, I never wasted the opportunity to snag a good amount of Hot Wheels and NASCAR diecast cars off of ebay, through earnest requests made to my father and my aunt to purchase them for me. In the summer of 2022, I had bought $300 dollars worth of diecast cars. Around eight or ten of these were vintage carded Hot Wheels cars, ninety-five loose NASCAR diecast cars, a 1:43 Cararama Scale Model of a 1999 Saab 9-5, and an Xbox 360 copy of Need For Speed Shift 2 : Unleashed for good fun. I felt like the most dedicated a hobbyist could possibly be.

Now that I've already written an entire

letter of appreciation towards Hot Wheels cars, it's time to talk about my ever so growing love for NASCAR as a sport, being the reason behind me importing hoarding almost a hundred of their cars. NASCAR is one of the most

difficult sports to compete in. Many people believe it to be nothing more than a pack of cars turning left for 500 miles, but they never take into account what it's really like to be one of those drivers. Imagine doing over 190 mph on a 33 degree banking, struggling to handle a 3,500 pound 8 cylinder monster with upwards of 780 horsepower. You're surrounded by fire-breathing beasts of machines on all four sides, and if you make one wrong move, your life is largely at risk. It instills a feeling of danger so strong it's like you're juggling four grenades while balancing yourself on a unicycle on the edge of a volcano pit. Everytime I see this pack of cars move by on my laptop screen, I feel nothing but exhilaration. Each driver making impossible moves while being tailgated at those speeds, like a fierce battle between the most valorant of warriors, with V8 stock cars for stallions, racing suits and helmets for chainmail armor, the 2.5 mile oval track of Daytona for the open fields of Medieval Europe, and the skills of the drivers for the warrior's swords.

Each die-cast model of these stock cars tells you a story of all the battles the drivers of these cars fought. For example, everytime I hold up Dale Earnhardt Sr.'s 1991 Chevrolet Lumina Stock Car, I remember his struggles to win the Daytona 500, all his trials and tribulations he underwent before finally winning the 1998 Daytona 500 7 years later. Collecting these also tells you and the people who see the collection about your passion for the sport, which makes you proud to be a follower of the sport, and as an Indian you definitely stick out like a sore thumb being surrounded by a family of cricket followers.

I mean, who's ever heard of an Indian NASCAR fan?

                                                     

Another way us die-cast collectors strive for excellence is forming communities and relationships both on and off the web to discuss the art of collecting, trade and sell cars, show off our own pieces, and find like-minded people. To us, it's not just a hobby. It's a way of life. This now brings us to the social aspect of collecting model cars. Can you remember which relative or friend of yours gifted you your first ever die-cast car? Can you reminisce about how unforgettable and simple times were when your friend would come over and race Hot Wheels cars with you? All these memories of important people in our lives can be cherished with these cars as souvenirs of our life's events. This can include you. Gifting someone you know who likes cars is really one of the most benevolent things you can do, making the cars souvenirs for people to remember you as someone in their life, whether significant or insignificant. That's precisely what toy cars are. A lot more than molded metal with rolling wheels 3 inches across and nothing less than a treasure to behold, and being part of the experience of collecting it is one part of your life you'll never forget.

Model Car Memoirs Part.1

 What is the true significance of owning something as simple and miniscule as a die-cast car?

To some, it's nothing beyond the bounds of a household knick-knack that makes you yell and bawl at your children like a wild boar in a stampede, for stepping on them after preparing supper. To others, it's where after a specific point of time, the toys fail to captivate the interest of the beholder. This phase occurs when an innocent minded and studious elementary school pupil turns into a formidable, pus-filled, raging, tantrum throwing, teenager emitting a plethora of body odors. In this scenario, either that teenager gives them off as hand me downs to their younger brother or sister, or gives them away to charity as if they're an outgrown, malodorous torn up pair of rugby socks.

Not to me, however. Every single time I take any random car in my collection and gently lay it on the palm of my hand, I watch how gloriously it complements the lines in my palms. This everyday sight speaks to me of how palmists overlook how, for die-cast collectors, like me, the car is the missing piece of the puzzle. Because to me, it's the car that symbolizes my prosperity rather than a line crossing the dimensions of my palm.

A belief I hold dear to my heart is that the type of cars you collect is a reflection of not only your character, but also your background. A 1/87 scaled Rover P4 by Oxford (die-cast brand) may depict the owner to be a middle-aged Englishman, where the reason behind him buying it evokes a feeling of nostalgia, reminding him of the family trips in his dad's car rolling through the hills of Yorkshire. On the other hand, a simple plastic, unbranded die-cast car with the words “Made in China” imprinted on the bottom may belong to a child in a modest neighbourhood, who saved up small coins just to bring home something that fuels his imagination. Both cars, regardless of brand, price, or origin hold immense value to their owners. Every die-cast car, no matter its make, model, or background, is a reflection of its owner’s personal journey, taste in automobiles, appreciation for craftsmanship, and connection to memory.

Speaking of the economic aspect of things, the most successful die-cast car brand, and the one that's the most popular in my collection, is of course, Hot Wheels. Hot Wheels cars are affordable, well detailed, pleasant to own, and are an absolute joy to collect. In India, your average sidewalk toy shop would frequently sell an impostor of Hot Wheels, incompetently mimicking its legitimate counterpart, with its shell, interior and wheels composed entirely of the same plastic of a small container that my grandmother would use to store scraps and bones of leftover chicken vindaloo to feed the dog before he regurgitates the same mess on the carpet. Quite frankly, looking at it is oftentimes less excruciating than the disillusioned feeling of having a lot of excitement built up after seeing a nearby toy shop, which is then followed by a sharp feeling of disgruntlement and dissatisfaction, upon seeing these cheap imitations of Hot Wheels cars, like your heart is a fluorescently coloured piñata struck open by an angry toddler with a mini baseball bat.                                                                                                                                                                             The motive behind the hyperbolization of this ruse is due to an instict of developing a feeling of cheeriness before entering a toy shop that has developed over the years of my childhood, and now when that instinct occurs, all I am met with is disappointment on account of how poor our country's stock of die-cast cars is today.

 This is because in my early childhood, the types of cars that you'd find in stores like Hamleys or Crossword were so extraordinarily otherwordly. Quick rewind to the year 2010. I was in nursery at the time, or as you Americans call it, pre-school. It was my first encounter with the Hamleys at the High Street Phoenix Mall in Mumbai. This was actually the first Hamleys' toy store opened in South-East Asia on April 9, 2010. This particular visit was circa late 2010 or early 2011, so I was about three years old at the time. Upon entering, all I see is paradise. Several shelves of Hot Wheels cars, each only 89 Rupees at the time, as compared to 179-499 Rupees a piece today. Each of them were so detailed and so intricately painted, rendered and branded, all of which were older car models that fit to my current taste in cars. There were at least 2 aisles of cars and 2 aisles of tracks, but, of course, all I cared about was the cars.

I was like a caffeine addict in a Starbucks during happy hour. The store housed rows of die-cast brands whose cars are worth a fortune today. Brands like Hongwell that made 1/72 scale cars, New Ray that had a variety of scales with the biggest being 1/12 models and the smaller ones being 1/32 models, Maisto, Bburago, and Matchbox all making their debut in India. For three year old me, it was a momentary glimpse of heaven on earth. Me, my mother and my father had brought home a set of 6 1965 Mini Cooper cars with vintage rally racing liveries. This set is so rare now, that you will not find a single 6-set of any Hongwell cars in India.

Today, I have approximately between 950-1,000 hot wheels cars in my collection. out of these, about 80 cars are carded and mostly in mint condition. 60% of these carded cars are a lot older than the remaining 40%. They're all from between 1994 and 2010, mainly due to the fact that I have a rather personal and special affinity with 1990's and 2000's culture, and a major part of this fondness is the cars from that era. Even something as elementary as the packaging of the cars of that era is a true sight to behold. The agglomeration of every shade of blue, white and black in the card art, the three-dimensional look to the logo that makes it look like it's risen from the card, ever so implicitly establishing its trademark which tells you that that little car made of plastic and metal three inches across is an artefact, a masterpiece to last for generations to come.

 And what more could a car connoisseur like me ask for than hundreds of  stunning little meticulously crafted pieces of art? In a distinctive way, I see almost each and every one of them as my children. Everytime I walk into my room, I observe my collection with pride and ecstasy. To me, it resembles a feeling preliminary to the one which I'll experience when the day I have a child or children of my own is beckoned to me.

To be continued...