There are many such words in Bengali that have permanently replaced the original words. If we say kedara (the old Bengali word for chair), no one will understand. But if we say chair, everyone gets it. Nowadays, if you tell a rickshaw-puller to take you to the bishwobidyaloy (university), they’ll look confused.
But if we say chair, everyone gets it. Nowadays, if you tell a rickshaw-puller to take you to the bishwobidyaloy (university), they’ll look confused. But if you say university, they’ll smile in recognition.
These days, if you say like, everyone immediately understands—it feels simpler than saying pachondo (to like). It sticks in the mind more easily. But the word Laika sounds awkward and clunky. The antics of Laika became the talk of the neighborhood, as people came to like her. Here's a short account of how Laika became the center of attention.
Chandranath and Somnath were cousins, but the same age. They were in the same class, same school, and lived in the same joint family home. Because of the summer, schools were operating on a morning shift. During the tiffin break, Chandranath would eat his own tiffin and then spend time playing kabaddi with friends on the school field. Meanwhile, Somnath would lose track of time playing cut-and-paste games with his friend Akshay during class.
After school, they were walking home together. Somnath said he hadn’t eaten his tiffin. Chandranath offered, “Open your tiffin box. Eat now. Aunt will scold you otherwise.” In the tiffin box were two pieces of buttered bread and a banana. Chandranath ate the banana; he knew bananas give an instant boost of energy. His younger uncle had told him so. Somnath held one piece of bread in his mouth and another in his hand as they walked. Suddenly, a brown dog looked at the bread in Somnath's hand and whimpered.
Chandranath threw the banana peel at the dog and said, “Shoo! Get out of here!”
Somnath said, “The dog looked so sad and just walked away. I wish I had given it a piece. It wouldn’t have hurt.”
That night, at the dinner table, Somnath told Grandma everything. Grandma sighed, “Oh, poor creature. We should care for them. A soul is reborn a hundred times before becoming a human.”
That night, Somnath dreamed that his beloved grandfather had been reincarnated as that very dog. He clearly heard his voice in the dream: “Won’t you give me something to eat?”
Somnath didn’t tell anyone. The next day, he deliberately didn’t eat his tiffin and fed it to the dog instead. Strangely, when Chandranath tried to feed the dog, it refused to eat.
At dinner, Somnath told the whole story to his younger uncle, who was preparing for job exams and always kept up with everything.
His uncle explained, “We can sense five things—touch with our skin, hear with our ears, smell with our nose, taste with our tongue, and see with our eyes. But besides that, there’s one more sense that brings everything together—our intuition, or the sixth sense. It’s the mind. The mind controls all the other senses. It’s what makes decisions. That dog didn’t forget what happened the first day.”
He continued, “And remember, dogs are incredibly loyal. There are many true stories from around the world about a dog’s love for its master. In Japan, a man named Hidesaburo Ueno owned a dog called Hachiko. Every day, Hachiko would come to Shibuya station with him and return home together. One day, Ueno fell ill at work and was hospitalized. Hachiko waited patiently at the station, expecting him to return. The dog waited every day, for ten years straight.
“When newspapers reported the story, it touched people around the world. A film was made about Hachiko—Hachiko: A Dog’s Tale. It cost $16 million to make in 2009. Today, there is a bronze statue of Hachiko at Shibuya station.”
“You’ll be surprised to know that a dog named Rin Tin Tin even won an Oscar for acting. When he died in 1932, the entire United States observed a national mourning. Rin Tin Tin is buried in his birthplace, France, in one of Europe’s oldest and most famous pet cemeteries.”
He continued, “One day, a man named Graham went out with his pet dog Rouswarp. But they didn’t come back. Three months later, the dog was found silently guarding his master’s dead body near a stream. Despite snow and freezing cold, Rouswarp never left him, not even by an inch.”
“And know this—Laika, the dead dog, will live as long as the Earth does. On the 40th anniversary of the Russian Revolution, Laika was sent to space in November. She died there. No one even noticed.”
Grandma had been quietly listening all along. She finally declared, “Bring the dog home. We’ll take care of her—she won’t lack food or shelter. Think about it, because of that dog’s sacrifice, we humans now know about planets and satellites and can even travel to space.”
“In memory of that Laika, this dog will also be named Laika.”
Laika, like a well-behaved student, began following them to school. During the tiffin break, she would eat with them too.
Saturdays were half-days at school. One day, instead of going home, they stayed back to play on the school field. On the way home, the roads were unusually empty. The boys walked quickly, with Laika trotting behind them.
Suddenly, a black Maruti van pulled up in front of them. Two bulky men got out and shoved a handkerchief over Debashish’s mouth, dragging him into the van in a flash. Somnath screamed and cried. Laika barked furiously.
As the van sped off, Laika leapt onto its roof. Standing atop it, she howled and barked so loudly that the air shook. At Panchanan Tala, a traffic cop stopped the van. The driver tried to flee, but Laika pounced like a space dog launching into the void and caught him. Locals surrounded the goons. Someone had already informed the police, no one knew who. The police arrested the kidnappers.
The neighborhood came to like Laika and learned the full story from Grandma.