My Co-existence on This Planet

I grew up with cats, canines, birds and fish — but my love for animals did not begin with me.

It began with my father, Rabindranath Pratapgiri.

He was an animal lover in his own quiet way. He was kind enough to welcome animals into our home, to accommodate them, care for them and allow them to become part of our everyday lives. Because of his kindness, I had the privilege of experiencing animals not as something outside our lives, but as companions who shared our home, our spaces and our emotions. That early exposure shaped something in me that has remained for life.

As I grew older, my elder sibling Pratap G Subramanyam deepened that understanding. During my late teens and youth, I watched the way he treated our Caesar Bonzo, our German Shepherd — not merely as a pet, but as a younger brother. That relationship taught me something profound: animals don't simply need our affection; they need our responsibility, protection, patience and respect. What began with my father's kindness, and was strengthened by my brother's example, eventually became a deeply personal part of who I am.

But perhaps the most profound part of this journey has happened within my own home. I have been the proud father of two beloved canine sons (Vayu & Om), and one canine daughter (Lakmé), and have shared my life with few more canines, and more than fifty feline kids. They were never merely pets. They were relationships, personalities, teachers, friends and family — each leaving behind something that continues to live within me.

Over the years, I have been involved in numerous initiatives for animal welfare. I continue to support young student volunteers who care for stray animals but often lack the resources to help them — supporting their efforts with food, medicines and critical surgeries whenever I can. I also had the privilege of serving as the Founder Editor of Hyderabad Paws, where I began to write for those who have no voice of their own.

And today, I am happy that my daughter, Aishwarya Krishna Priya, shares this love for animals and continues to support their welfare. It gives me a quiet sense of fulfilment to see this compassion becoming a legacy — passed from one generation to the next. When I look back, I realise that my journey with animals began long before I understood what compassion meant.

My father gave me the opportunity to know them.
My brother taught me to respect them.
Life taught me to care for them.

And my animals taught me what unconditional love truly is — and what it means to carry that kindness within us.

Perhaps that is the legacy I wish to continue: to be there for those who love us unconditionally, even when they have no voice to ask for our help.

A Tribute to My Family of Five Elements

There was a time when we were five — my daughter, myself, and my three beloved animal kids. Together, we were a family that made life not just worth living, but deeply meaningful.

Aishwarya Krishna Priya — Aishu — was the first to enter my world, my human daughter. She was the beginning of this little family of mine, and through her I experienced the profound, unconditional bond of parenthood.

Then came Lakmé, the first of my animal children to enter our lives. She began our home's special human-canine bond and became much more than a pet. She was my daughter's eternal sister and emotional anchor. In a home that would eventually be filled with male energy — myself and my two pug sons — Lakmé brought a graceful balance, a calm and nurturing feminine strength.

After Lakmé came Vayu. He stayed with us for nearly fifteen glorious years and became an inseparable part of our family. His very name means Air, and somehow, he seemed to embody it — filling our home with his presence, energy and breath. He was with us through so many chapters of life, and eventually outlived both Lakmé and Om.

Lastly came Om, my youngest pug child. He lived a brief yet beautiful life from 2013 to 2020. He was the most lovable, innocent, naïve and mischievous soul in our home — a true embodiment of childlike wonder. No one can ever take his place. Om taught me something invaluable: when life gets overwhelming, sometimes the best thing to do is simply close your eyes and rest — just like a child, with no fear and no worry.

And so, for a time, we were five.

As I look back at the family we were, I often find myself identifying each of us with the five elements of nature.

I am the Earth.
Aishu is the Fire.
Lakmé is the Water.
Vayu is the Air.
And Om is the Sky —
the omnipresent soul that envelops us all.

Together, these five elements became more than a metaphor. They became a way of understanding the unique place each of us occupied within our little universe. Though Lakmé, Vayu and Om have left this mortal world, I do not believe that our family ended with their departure. A part of them continues to live within us, just as a part of us departed with them. Perhaps that is what makes certain bonds sacred. They do not depend upon physical presence. They become part of who we are.

We were five.
We are still five.
And we will always be one family —
woven together by love, memory, and the very elements of creation.