Aunt Zubeida, had been travelling continuously after her husband (who was a chain smoker) passed away. After two successful solo trips across the country, she wanted to embark upon a fulfilling pilgrimage. Her zeal to travel had translated to a fresh lease of life for her and it was nice for everyone (around her) to see her enjoying life in good health. Although she wanted to embark on her pilgrimage as soon as possible she was handicapped in her decision as she didn't know where to leave her beloved pet dog, Casper. There was no one to take care of the dog and this is how I entered into the picture. I was to be the temporary caretaker and custodian.
When I first saw Casper, I thought of changing my mind. To be honest, I was expecting Casper to be a bulldog or a retriever but aunt Zubeida showed up at my door with one hell of a black ferocious hellhound. The mere thought of co-existing with that growling beast churned my insides. Before I could clear all my queries regarding the unlikely animal, she left with a rather 'caricaturish' smile; a smile that was odd enough to distract me from her prominent burn marks for a second. She quickly unfolded the rolled up sleeves of her kaftan, petted the beast, looked at me and said "Take care." I nodded in alliance and with sympathy. Casper, upon not receiving the kind of welcome he was anticipating, kept on barking until his voice turned hoarse.
The first night with Casper had been nothing less than a nightmare. His constant howling and vehement attempts to let loose off the leash scared the daylights out of me. However, I indulged in an ounce of guilty pleasure too as Casper's howling was giving Masand a taste of his own medicine. Ever since Masand and Nina moved in to my neighbourhood, I hadn't had a good night's sleep. I realised that having a dog bark all day was still better than dealing with a grown man aggressively shouting at his wife all night, every night.
Casper was getting uncontrollable each passing day. I tried contacting my aunt but it was of no use. No matter what I fed him or how much I fed him, he would not be quiet. For a while I could empathize with Nina.
One Sunday afternoon, while returning from the grocer's store, I saw Masand's door unlatched and some kind of commotion going on inside. I stood in the doorway eavesdropping and analysing every sound. After a few minutes I heard something that resembled the sound of a knife stab. Paranoid and indecisive, I reached out for the pepper spray in my pocket and pushed the door open. What I saw made my jaw drop - Nina was standing with a butcher knife dripping with blood on top of Masand who lay dead on the floor. I could tell she wasn't expecting me or anyone at her door in that particular moment. My presence startled her and we both stood transfixed looking at one another for two whole minutes. It was so silent that I could only hear my heart pounding in my chest and Casper barking from my balcony.
The next few hours that followed had me doubt my own conscience. Nina and I came to a mutual agreement. I agreed to help her out with the cleaning and she promised to cook for Casper that night. It was only for the similar looking cigarette burns I have always seen in Nina's arms that (out of sympathy) I decided to cover up for the murder. Although I lost my appetite for several days to come, Casper probably had the best meal of his life. He devoured the feast laid out in front of him with much gusto and pleasure. The supper satiated him so much that it cured him of his constant barking.
Exactly two weeks later, Aunt Zubeida came to pick Casper. She looked much better than before. Neither I nor Nina had disclosed anything about the incident. Stunned by his sudden calm demeanor, she said, "I don't know what you have fed him but I haven't seen him so patient since your uncle's demise."
Nirmali Medhi
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