One of my Goldfish, Caviar died last night.

I was up watching the Euro Cup last night in my den. And subsequently, dozed off on the couch. Bleary eyed when I returned to my room in the morning, I found the puffed up body of Caviar. Not swimming in circles, but still – half sunk, half afloat.

I have had Champagne (the second of my goldfish) and Caviar, for over six months. Frankly one doesn’t develop a conventional emotional bond with ones goldfish, like one does with his dog or even cat. Goldfish don’t hurtle up to you and paw all over you when you get home, nor do they curl up at your feet.

But my goldfish have given me great many days of joy. Every morning, the first thing I do is to feed them their dry food, as soon as I come up to the bowl, they rush towards the circumference closest to me. Their mouths puckered in gasps of breath. I used to smile to myself, Marilyn Monroe deep sea diving!

The identification, the adhesive, is derived from the fact that Champagne and Caviar and their fishbowl, is very congruent to my cubicle and me. Stuck in the same time-space warp. Where every day, seems the same?

A few months back, I decided to educate and familiarize Champagne and Caviar to the good life and the wonders of the world. I carried the fish bowl to the den, and we watched the 9 ‘o’ clock news together. Even gave them a quick update on News features on Israel and Russia, and anything else, which was before their time.

I spent couple of weekends exposing them to good music, we listened to western classical. Chopin, Bach and Handel mostly. I would like to believe they liked Chopin, because I do.

We listened to the singles from the 50’s and early 60’s. Ricky Nelson, Righteous Brothers and the lot. Stuff like Judy, Raindrops keep falling on my head, Love Potion #9. Lovely cute songs, without a care in the world.

We listened to other stuff too, my usual bunch of favorites Springsteen, Genesis, Sting, Dido, Simon and Garfunkel. Nothing fancy, just nice music.

I always wondered which of the numbers, they really liked? If they did like any of them at all? When I played “Groovy kind of love” in loop for hours, did their heart yearn for a “Homeward Bound”, say?

I guess ill never know.

When Red Indians die they are said to “move on” to the “Happy Hunting Grounds”. Where the days catch is easy. The Nordic warriors were said to move on to “Val Halla”, the battlefield where one all ways emerged victors.

I dunno where Caviar will go, but am sure it will be to pacific waters with lots of other goldfish, plenty of food and Chopin playing in the background.

Ill miss you buddy.