Maggie’s Tragedy

          It was the threshold of winter. A cold wind was howling all around when Maggie laid herself down under the Margosa tree, with her children. The chiller it was in the beginning of the day, the warmer it became in the noon. Possibly, Maggie enjoyed the shadowy enclosure with her little ones more that day, than ever before.

Maggie came to Jiva Maidan as a forerunner, announcing the coming of the winter. Of course, she didn’t come empty. This year too, she arrived at the Maidan with her womb heavy, keeping the custom she followed, nearly, for the last three years. Oh! What a joy it was when her cute, little ones opened their tiny eyes, for the first time. Many of the bystanders, in fact all, loved her company and motherliness, though it was not shown conspicuously. She was never let to starve. Some found their own ways to feed her, though it was not sanctioned.

Alas! Accursed be the day!  One unfortunate day, Maggie walked on the path of her destiny. The evening sun denied to witness it, and made its way steeply downhill.

It was Monday. The Maidan battalion got onto their regular games field. Certainly, that day, their games were delayed for about quarter of an hour. No doubt, all of them saw her lying under the tree. Many felt pity upon her while some turned their backs on her with loathe. A few among them had something special for her. All they wanted was, to do away with her, beginning with her children first.

For that task, the conspirators had already hatched a sinister plan at the table, as they lunched together that afternoon. All of them shared the responsibility to execute it to the last letter as scrutinized by their leader.

Soon, they busied themselves in action. Maggie was coaxed indoors with a few pieces of chapatti. Totally oblivious, she was led on the garden path. Oh! What a pity! She made a grave mistake. Poor Maggie relied on their fake generosity. What followed was swift and snappy. Maggie was trapped and bolted behind the doors.

No sooner did they arrest Maggie, than they turned to her children. Even the hearts, that were hardened on her earlier, began melting as they tucked the little ones in jutes and loaded in a rickshaw. Two guards on either side, they took the innocents away.

Helpless mother Maggie’s heart would have burst in to pieces, if she were to see her beloved ones, destined to the panchmahabhutas. But the matter became worse when she was let free. She restlessly sniffed to and fro, searching for a glimpse of her little ones. She cried and sighed bitterly. But, they had gone where she could not reach. What was put together was now asunder. All those who were in the field witnessed her fate. Even the hearts of the executioners would have changed if they had seen her agony.

Time passed by. Maggie’s red blood still turned into white milk. ‘Time’ failed to stop it. But, sadly, a few of her babies might have starved to death, while others have been crushed under tires. How she did compensate for her distress was a mystery. How strange it was! Maggie was still simple enough to forgive them and take refuge in them. “Was Maggie practicing the gospel values?” I wondered.

Few days later, the Maidan troop was to go for an evening outing. The bus was ready, and all stepped towards it. Her motherliness did not keep Maggie from bidding ‘Good Bye!’ to them. She approached the vehicle. At that very moment the devil entered into an active soul. Alas! If she had known it was her life! The second half of Maggie’s tragedy began. She fell out of frying pan into the fire.

Maggie was shut in immediately. Perturbed, she laid herself down in a corner of the bus. For the troop, it was a joyful day. But, for Maggie, it was the day to go through the rest of her tragedy. Knowing her forthcoming doom some empathized with her. But, for some, it was a reason to mock at her. When the bus neared Moksha dam, they found a place where there were few signs of human existence. “ Ah! This is the ideal place to abandon her,” some thought. Foreseen what would happen to her, many interrupted. But, it was in vain. Next moment, the bus reached to a grinding halt, and its doors were snapped opened. Maggie was pushed out. No sooner did Maggie step on the road, than they shut the doors on her. The bus speeded up. She chased it desperately. How sad it was! Unfortunate Maggie failed to keep phase with the bus. Almost all watched her run, through the windscreen. All the hearts sank, as they pounded with sighs of pain. “Canine motherhood was indeed painful,” I acknowledged silently.

At that very second, they succeeded in their plot, and Jaina troop jettisoned their annual visitor, she-dog Maggie, hopefully, forever.

Definitely, this time Maggie must have chased the bus, not searching for her lost children, but for the children who nursed her after the tragic loss of her dear ones. Indeed, all she wanted was, to say a few words of thanks, and be grateful to them. But, had they understood it? No, in the blink of an eye, they were out of her sight.

But, were they really successful? Four months have passed since that fateful day, and Maggie’s tragedy has taken a new turn now. Walking all the miles away from Moksha dam barefooted, Maggie had come to Jaina again, practicing her utmost maitri. This arrival of Maggie had filled the native troop with owe and guilt. Surely, the tragedy is no more Maggie’s now, but Jaina's. All the more, shocked and defeated were her executioners.