A FISHY ONE!

I got fish. And then I lost fish.

Even before I could dedicate a blog entry to them!

Clementine and Tangerine came into my life one Thursday. I got them from a shop, not that they flew to me; they could have had they been flying fishes. Unfortunately they couldn’t, they were gold fishes. I had always feared that gold fishes are risky pets; what if they forget how to live? Mine did exactly that!

My entire family had problems with their names; they just didn’t understand my love for “Eternal Sunshine..” and my appreciation of the lovely Kate Winslet. Explaining to my cousins that the names are just apt for my orange-colored fishes was futile. My uncle thought I was missing being Americano. My mum said she can’t even call out to them. She decided to call them Tanju and Clemu. Rather than making them undergo the torture of being called Ramu-Shamu-types, I decided to call them something else. After an intense discussion over dinner of what to call them, we decided that they would be called Bhola-Ram. But before their rechristening, one of them died; can’t say which one. I think it was because of the fact that they were fed every hour by my over-zealous cousins. Or because of my brother, a 27-year old fellow who insisted on feeding them Polo (the mint-with-the-hole) and some orange candy. Noble intentions, I’m sure. Why should we be the only ones enjoying holiday sweets. The fact that the fish died the day after bhai-bhabhi left didn’t help. Being all alone at home, and having to bury her in the backyard all by myself didn’t help. What my parents thought would help, and what did help, was getting a companion for my fish. So, dad came in the evening holding a bag of water with a cute little gold fish in it. It had thin black lining on its fins and tail. And a cute little black moustache. I knew what I would call it. Charlie! And the older one had to be rechristened. Chimanlal-Charlie! My two fishes!

Within a few days I lost Charlie. Mainly because I had commented on how she had adjusted well, after an initial period of not being able to eat because of the bully that Chimanlal was. Pa and I buried her together. Chimanlal didn’t get a new companion now. And was enjoying being the only one getting all the attention (and all the food), or so I thought. I lost him in a few days. This time I was not in town. Pa buried him.

I have learnt to handle the death of a fish now. Ma’s statement of how I had freed them from their lives as fishes, and given them the hope to be born as humans in their next lives, didn’t help. Pa’s statement that we should plant grapes in the backyard did help!

A name plate still lies next to the empty bowl in my room. It says “Clementine and Tangerine” in shades of orange. Even before I could change the names on the photo frame-turned-name plate, I lost my Clementine-Tangerine-Bhola-Ram-Chimanlal-Charlie. I didn’t get an opportunity to write about them while they were alive. I dedicate this entry in their memory.