Relieving oneself on a tulsi plant is frowned upon

If mom thought twisting herself into a pretzel for 20 hours was uncomfortable, she should’ve spent the time with me in the cargo hold of an airplane without any drinking water for the last leg of the journey from Frankfurt to Chennai.

Lufthansa staff reassured mom that her dog was on board, but nobody bothered to check if the dog was hydrated enough for the journey. When mom stuck her fingers through my cage at the Chennai airport, I managed to weakly lick her, not wanting to believe that my ordeal had finally ended.

“He’s alive!” cried mom, pulling out a rock-hard bread roll she had saved from lunch. I gulped it down, along with a liter of sparkling water, and finally stopped trembling, happy to be on terra firma.

Grandpa had arranged for me to be cleared by Chennai Customs, and a nice man from grandpa’s old workplace arrived at the airport at midnight to make sure I breezed through the exit with no paperwork.

“Madam, you should have faxed me all the papers a few days ago,” said the man to mom. “The airport vet is supposed to be on duty, but he’s usually not here at night. They won’t release the dog without clearance from him. I’ll go to his clinic tomorrow to get his signature.”

“You mean the vet will sign the documents without even seeing the dog?” asked mom.

She now knows who not to pick for my veterinary care.

For all of her sweet talk about preparing me for life in Chennai, mom somehow neglected to mention the sweltering heat and the humidity that hits you when you step out of the airplane.

“It’s hot!” is an understatement in a city where you can sweat buckets doing nothing more stressful that batting your eyelids. If one could lose weight just through sweat, my human would be in paradise.

You know, mom, before you reach for another succulent mango or a spoonful of ghee-dripping halwa, I think you should go easy on the food. Remember, there is a tomorrow since you’re not going back anytime soon.