A few weeks ago, my daughter Aarushie called from Bangalore. Theo’s parents, Varsha and Cheeku, were heading out of town and needed someone to watch Theo, their dog. She asked gently, though she already knew the answer. If there is a dog involved, my heart usually decides before my head can respond.

Eight months old. A Maltipoo with a soft, wavy coat, the colour of milky tea, light brown with a warm apricot glow. He had endless energy, always ready to play, always alert, always present. Within no time, he took over my home and quietly found his way into my days. Being around him changed the feel of the place. As a dowser, I could sense it clearly. The house felt lighter. Even my thoughts slowed down.

His meals were fixed. Eight in the morning. Two in the afternoon. Eight at night. I set alarms on my phone, and soon he made the connection. The moment the alarm rang, he would jump up and sit in his spot, eyes locked on me. I would delay saying the word FOOD just to watch that look. Pure focus. Pure trust.

He was beautifully trained. Sit, lie down, high fives, swirl, and wait. That calm discipline was clearly Varsha’s doing, shaped patiently, without force, and filled with quiet love.
.

With Theo around, my own routine changed. I was walking three times a day again. Morning, afternoon, night. Without even noticing, I dropped two kilos. He loved the walks, but what drew my attention was his fascination with Durva grass.

I knew Durva only from my spiritual practice. It is the same sacred grass offered to Lord Ganesha. People believe it carries purity and renewal. There is a story that when Ganesha once swallowed a fiery demon, his body grew unbearably hot, and nothing could soothe him until Durva was placed on him. Since then, the grass has been seen as a natural healer. Its roots are believed to house Brahma, the middle of the blade Vishnu, and the tip Shiva. Three forces that are contained within something so small. It is used in rituals to invite calm, balance, and clarity into a space.

I found it beautiful that Theo was drawn to it every single time we stepped out. As if he sensed something sacred in it. He would stop, sniff it, gently nibble at it, and chew it with quiet focus, almost as if he was greeting it in his own way.

He came with me to work every day. In the car, no matter where I placed him, he always found his way back to my lap. That was where he chose to be. My office is near the beach, so I always take the longer route. I lowered the windows and let the sea breeze rush in. He loved it. The wind moved through his fur, his nose tilted slightly upward, eyes half closed, completely present in that moment.

During office hours, we always found time to walk on the sand. He sniffed his way across the beach with complete focus, nose close to the ground, as if the world was speaking to him through scent alone.

As the days passed, the thought of him leaving began to hurt. Years ago, Ratika and I had a pug named Gizmo who lived with us for fourteen years. Losing him was the reason we never brought another dog home. Anyone who has loved a dog knows this. The years are full of joy. It is the goodbye that stays with you. Spending time with Theo reopened a part of me I thought was done grieving. The joy they bring, day after day, is impossible to explain until you live it again.

Yesterday, Varsha and Cheeku came to pick him up. Watching them arrive filled me with relief and heaviness at the same time. When it was time to put Theo into the car, my hands hesitated. I do not remember the last time I cried that much.
.
That moment took me back many years. The day after I married Ratika, we were driving from Bangalore to Chennai after the wedding. Her dog, Bambi, a German Shepherd, jumped into the car and refused to get out. She sensed Ratika was leaving. Standing there yesterday, sending Theo back to his home, that image came rushing back. Ratika is in the car. Bambi is holding her ground. The tears in her parents’ eyes. The same ache returned. The kind that comes from love, not loss.

Soon after Theo left, I went to the temple. I was walking around quietly when a young married couple approached me. They introduced themselves and said they were from Bangalore. They wanted to know what pooja could be done to be blessed with a child. I listened and answered as best as I could.

As they walked away, the connections began to appear gently. Theo’s parents were from Bangalore. This couple was from Bangalore. And many years ago, my own marriage had begun there. A city tied to beginnings. To unions. To the quiet hope of life taking shape.

I do not know if it was a coincidence or something else, but standing there, it felt like the day had come full circle. A dog returning home. A couple hoping for a child. Memories of a marriage that once started the same way. Different stories, the same thread.

Now, when I go to the temple, I also pray that Varsha and Cheeku keep going on longer holidays, so that I can spend a little more time with Theo.

K Sharad Haksar
Dowser | Photographer | Creative Director

What Theo Left Behind – Read the full story in the slides…

K Sharad Haksar
Dowser | Photographer | Creative Director

#KSharadHaksar #Dowser #Dowsing #Maltipoo #Dog