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Simon Says

Simon  Says
I begin to get the feeling that Christmas is around the corner when Ma starts making the sweets and the smell of burnt sugar and baking fills the house. The countdown begins and, every day there is some new activity-the lights of the Christmas tree to be checked out, the wiring for the star to be fixed, the thatch of the stable for the nativity scene to be mended, last minute chopping of the dry fruits to be done... Then, before we know what is happening, we start our rounds of carol singing, meet old friends and make new ones... Oh, the entire month is fun.

 

Simon  Says

Cheryl   Rao

 

I  begin  to  get  the  feeling  that  Christmas  is  around  the corner when  Ma  starts  making the  sweets  and  the  smell  of burnt   sugar  and  baking  fills   the  house.   The   countdown begins and,  every day there is  some new activity-the lights of the  Christmas  tree  to  be  checked  out,  the wiring for the star  to  be  fixed,   the  thatch  of  the  stable  for  the  nativity scene  to  be  mended,  last minute  chopping  of the  dry fruits to  be  done...  Then,  before we  know 

what  is  happening,  we start   our   rounds   of  carol   singing,   meet   old   friends   and make  new  ones...  Oh,  the  entire  month  is  fun.

This year,  however,  the first of December announced itself with  an  early morning phone  call.  Ma  shook me  awake  and I looked at her with bleary eyes.  "I have to go to the hospital, Reeta,"   she   said   worriedly.   "Grandpa   has   met  with   an accident." That made  me jump  up. 

Grandpa  is  my  favourite  person  in  the  world   after  my friend  Latika.  I  can  tell  him  anything,  even  grumble  when I  think  his  daughter,  Ma,  is  being  unfair  to  me.  Because Grandpa  cannot   see,   he  is  never  distracted  when  I   talk and   I   feel   that  he   is  the   only  person  who   gives  me   full attention.  Simon  does  too,  but  that  is  different. 



When   Grandpa  began   to   lose  his   eyesight   some  years ago,   he  got  himself  a  trained  German  shepherd,   a  guide dog,  and  named  him  Simon.  "Because  I  have  to  do  what Simon   says,"   he  joked,   telling  me   how   he   used   to   play 'Simon   Says'   when   he   was   a   boy.   Because   of   Simon, Grandpa  could  manage  to  live  on  his  own.  He  could  go  for walks;  he could even do  some  shopping now and then when he  wanted  to  surprise  us  with  gifts.

"I  am   coming  too,"  I   said,  jumping  out  of  the  bed  and pulling  on  a  sweater.

"You  had  better  stay  at  home,   Reeta.   See  that  Jay  has his  breakfast  and  gets  to  the  bus  stop  on  time.  And  you can't  miss  the  biology  test."

"The   test   isn't   important,   Ma..."   I   cried,   but   she   had already  left.

It   was   tough   to   concentrate   on   the   questions   on   the blackboard and I  did badly,  I think.  But biology was the last thing on my mind.  I kept wondering how Grandpa was.  When Jay  and  I  burst  into  the  house  after  school,  Ma  was  back from the hospital.  She tried to  smile at us and talk normally, yet I knew that the news was not good.  "Simon took Grandpa straight  into  the  path  of  a  car  and  he  was  injured  badly. He  was  awake  for  a  while  when  I  went,   but  with  all  the drugs  and  painkillers,  he fell asleep  again.  All he  could  say was   'Simon'."

We brought  Simon back to  our place but he moped around the  house,  barely  eating,  almost  as  if he  knew  that  he  was responsible  for  Grandpa's  condition.  He  could not  sleep  at night  and  walked  about  the  house,  which  was  strange  to him,  making  an  annoying  clicking  noise  with  his  claws  on the polished floor.  I was in charge  of Simon  and we went for long  walks.  I  tried  talking to  him  and  telling him  that I was praying  for  Grandpa  to  get  better,  but  he  did  not  pay  any attention   to   me.   I   thought   he   was  just   depressed   and missing   Grandpa,   but   when   I   came   home   from   school and  he  sat  in  kingly  splendour  in  front  of  the  mesh  door and  did  not  respond  to  the  sound  of  the  rickshaw  or  my voice   but   continued   to   stare   straight   ahead   at   Ma  who was  in  the  kitchen,  I  realized  that  Simon was  almost  deaf.

"Simon!   Simon!"  I  called  loudly,   and  at  last  he  turned, then  rose  and  came  trotting  to  me  with  his  tail  wagging and  that  special  look  on  his  face,  which  I  had  learnt  was a  doggie  smile.  "He  is  deaf,  Ma,"  I  said.  "That  was  why  he led   Grandpa  into   the   path   of  the  vehicle.   He   could   not have  heard  it  approaching."

Ma  began   to   calculate.   "Well,   Simon  is  now  ten  years old,  so  I  guess  it  is  quite  likely  that  he  is  going  deaf."

Simon   looked   at   our  faces   in   that   intelligent  knowing way,   and  guessing  that  we  were  talking  about  Grandpa, he  put  his  head  down  and  went  into  a  corner  of the  room. That was  his  moping place.  He  refused  to  eat  his  food  that day.   The  next  morning,  when  I  took  him  for  a  walk,   his legs   gave  way  beneath  him   and   he   sat   down   heavily  on the  grass.

"Ma!  Ma!"  I  yelled,  after  I  had  tried  to  lift  Simon  up  and failed.  "Ma,  something has  happened to  Simon!  He  cannot walk!" At last,  with Jay's help,  we managed  to  carry  Simon to  the  car  and   take  him  to   the  vet.   Simon  was  running a  fever  and  was  severely  dehydrated.  Immediately  he  was put  on  a  drip.  I  stayed  with  him  through  all  that,  and  for the  next few days  spent  all  my  time  at the  vet's  battling for Simon's life because he seemed to have given up the struggle for  himself.

It  was  a  week  before  I  could  visit  Grandpa,   and  I  was shocked  at  the  way  he  looked.   He  lay  with  a  tube  in  his nose,  bandages  all  over,  and  he  was  so  still  that  I  thought attention   to   me.   I   thought   he   was  just   depressed   and missing   Grandpa,   but   when   I   came   home   from   school and  he  sat  in  kingly  splendour  in  front  of  the  mesh  door and  did  not  respond  to  the  sound  of  the  rickshaw  or  my voice   but   continued   to   stare   straight   ahead   at   Ma  who was  in  the  kitchen,  I  realized  that  Simon was  almost  deaf.

"Simon!   Simon!"  I  called  loudly,   and  at  last  he  turned, then  rose  and  came  trotting  to  me  with  his  tail  wagging and  that  special  look  on  his  face,  which  I  had  learnt  was a  doggie  smile.  "He  is  deaf,  Ma,"  I  said.  "That  was  why  he led   Grandpa  into   the   path   of  the  vehicle.   He   could   not have  heard  it  approaching."

Ma  began   to   calculate.   "Well,   Simon  is  now  ten  years old,  so  I  guess  it  is  quite  likely  that  he  is  going  deaf."

Simon   looked   at   our  faces   in   that   intelligent  knowing way,   and  guessing  that  we  were  talking  about  Grandpa, he  put  his  head  down  and  went  into  a  corner  of the  room. That was  his  moping place.  He  refused  to  eat  his  food  that day.   The  next  morning,  when  I  took  him  for  a  walk,   his legs   gave  way  beneath  him   and   he   sat   down   heavily  on the  grass.

"Ma!  Ma!"  I  yelled,  after  I  had  tried  to  lift  Simon  up  and failed.  "Ma,  something has  happened to  Simon!  He  cannot walk!" At last,  with Jay's help,  we managed  to  carry  Simon to  the  car  and   take  him  to   the  vet.   Simon  was  running a  fever  and  was  severely  dehydrated.  Immediately  he  was put  on  a  drip.  I  stayed  with  him  through  all  that,  and  for the  next few days  spent  all  my  time  at the  vet's  battling for Simon's life because he seemed to have given up the struggle for  himself.

It  was  a  week  before  I  could  visit  Grandpa,   and  I  was shocked  at  the  way  he  looked.   He  lay  with  a  tube  in  his nose,  bandages  all  over,  and  he  was  so  still  that  I  thought he  was  dead.  Then  I  noticed  that  his  eyes  were  open  and he  tried  to  smile  when  he  heard  my  voice.   "We  are  pals, aren't we?"  he whispered  hoarsely as  I  held  his hand.  "Get me  out  of here."

It  seemed  that  he was  after  Ma for the  same  thing.  "How is  Simon?"  he  asked.

I   muttered   something,   hating  to   have  to   tell  him   that Simon  looked  weaker  than  he  did.  But  he  seemed  to  read my  mind,  for  he  said,  "He  will  feel  good  if he  sees  me.  He must  be  thinking  I  have  deserted  him."  Then  he  added, "I  don't want  to  die  in  the  hospital.  Take  me  home  and  let me  go  with   some   dignity,   without  all  these  tubes   stuck in  me."

It took Ma two weeks  to  be  convinced  and  to work on  the doctors,   and   at  last,   Grandpa  was   brought  home  in   an ambulance.  Simon rose  shakily to  his feet when he realized that Grandpa was back.  He began to bark and almost dance around,  coming  under  our  feet  as  we  tried  to  get  Grandpa in.  The  attendant  who  was  helping  to  carry  Grandpa  told me brusquely,  "Keep  the  dog away;  he will jump  on  the  old man  and  hurt  him!" But  Grandpa put up  his hand  and  said  hoarsely,  "Simon is  too  smart  to  do  that,"  and  I  smiled. 

Just   because   Grandpa   is   blind,   people   think   that   he cannot  hear  or  speak  and  they  talk  over  him,  as  if he  isn't there.   Anyway,   right   then,   I   was   actually   happy   that

Grandpa  could  not  see  how  thin  and  ill  Simon  looked  and that  Simon  was  a  dog  and  did  not  realize  just  how  weak Grandpa  was.

There were just a few days  left for  Christmas  and we  now had two patients to look after.  I was so  scared that Grandpa would  die  in  his  sleep  that  I  took to  creeping into  his  room early in  the  morning to  check if he was  still  breathing.  And after   Simon's  collapse,   I  thought  it  was  just  a  matter  of ime  for  him  as  well.

I  told you  that  Grandpa did  not really need  his  sight to  be aware  of what was  going  on.  He  knew there was  something wrong with  Simon just by patting his head when the  dog lay beside his bed.  On Christmas Eve,  I found Grandpa clicking off the cellphone.  "I thought you were my pal," he whispered to  me.  "Why  didn't you tell  me just how ill  Simon  is?" 

I   was   speechless.   It   was   obvious   that   Grandpa   had managed  to  contact  the  vet.   I  was  scared  by  the  look  on Grandpa's face.  Would he be able to take the loss  of Simon? 

The  next  morning,  when  I  sneaked  into  the  room  bright and  early  to  check  on  them  and  to  bring  the  gifts  I  had picked  up  from  below  the  tree  we  had  hastily  decorated the previous night,  I found Grandpa's bed  empty and  Simon nowhere  in  sight.  What  had  happened  while  I  was  asleep? I  was  rushing  out  of  the  room  to  alert  Ma  when  Grandpa walked in unsteadily from  the verandah with  Simon  leading him  as  he  always  did.

 "Grandpa!" I  exclaimed,  running to him and hugging him. "You  are  able to walk!"  and  I  added,  "Merry  Christmas!"  as an  afterthought.

"And  to you too,"  said  Grandpa,  sitting down with  Simon beside  him.

"How,  Grandpa?"  I  asked.  "How  did  you  do  it?"

"I  needed  to  get  strong for  Simon,  didn't  I?  He would  not last  long  if I  went,  and  he  says  he  is  not  old  enough  to  call it  a  day  right  now."

"You  are  playing  'Simon  Says'  again,   Grandpa!"  I  cried happily,   as  I  thrust  a  packet  into  his  lap  and  he  opened a  chewy  for  Simon.  As  far  as  I  was  concerned,   that  was the  best  game  in  the  world!


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