A smoke filled room. Ganja. And a flightless body.
The dog runs around his master, wagging his tail excitedly, waiting for his master to throw the stuffed toy.
“Master, master, I’m hungeee!”
“Master, master, stop learning how to fly, you’re not Superman!”
“Master, master, when is Aunty Muani coming over again? I miss her smell, her touch, how she would give me treats behind your back just because you think I don’t deserve them. Are you learning how to fly to her house, hahaha!”
Sawma loves his dog. But more than that, he loves Muani, the soul mate that he was always meant to have. They met at the Mumbai Mizo Association "Chapchar Kut" function, and had been inseparable since.
Sawma had always been an introvert. Reddit, Pink Floyd, weed, those were Sawma’s best friends. And then suddenly Muani came into his life. Everything changed.
At first, Muani was against Sawma adopting a puppy.
“How can you even think of owning a pet? I have to come to your house every week to change your bed sheet. You must first learn how to look after yourself, and then only consider having pets!”
That was Muani. Always concerned. Always caring. She was in Mumbai for her UPSC coaching class. Hard working, studious and serious. Sawma on the other hand was employed at a financial firm, where life was all about performance and showing up in office on time. He was also a geek who had never missed a single ComiCon fest in Mumbai. CosPlay was his favorite. Superman was his idol and he would always dress up as the Man of Steel.
“Wish I can fly directly to your house so as to beat this maddening Mumbai rush hour traffic!” had been the line Muani would always remember. Geeky as it sounded, that was what made Muani’s knees weak. That was why she loved Sawma so much.
Until that fateful day when a local bus with a malfunctioned brake rammed into her on her way back from coaching class, killing her on the spot.
Sawma was in the middle of a meeting about quarterly performance when he got the call. A passerby had dialed the last called number from her bloodied phone.
That night, back from the morgue, Sawma entered his flat. His dog greeted him with the same excitement and enthusiasm.
“Oh you oblivious fool.”
Yet the dog jumped around him, licking the feet of the master he loved so much.
“Master, master, don’t look so down. Did you not get your appraisal again? I’m here for you, tell me what’s wrong…”
“Master, master, why are you smoking that awful smelling thing again? You know Aunty Muani hates that right?”
“Master, master, is that a new toy you bought for me? Oh boy oh boy, I love ropes!”
“Master, master, oh finally you are learning how to fly! Yay, now you can fly to Aunty Muani’s house... but take me along too puleeze?”
“Master, master, ok I will wait right here until you perfect your flying skill and come back to the ground. Good night master, I love you.”
A smoke filled room. Ganja. And a lifeless body.
