Max

Max walked into our lives sometime in 2012, unannounced but unforgettable. A community dog that made Pratham Books and the Akshara Foundation his home—and us, his people.

The day he wandered in, we were all terrified. He was huge, and he was hurting. Someone, for reasons I’ll never understand, had wrapped a rubber band tightly around his ear, cutting off the circulation. The pain was evident in his eyes, but so was a quiet resilience. He lay down in the office, seeking something he hadn’t found elsewhere: trust.

It took hours for him to trust us, and for me to gather the courage to snip that rubber band off. But big dogs, as it turns out, have even bigger hearts. When I finally freed his ear, I realised Max wasn’t leaving. He chose to stay—with his slightly crooked ear that never stood up quite right again—and with us.

Max had big-dog energy. He could knock you over with a nudge, but he never meant to. He was gentle, leaning against you like you were his anchor. For a dog his size, his soul was remarkably soft—tender, forgiving, and full of love.

This space was his home, his sanctuary, for so many years. Maybe he felt it was time to move on too, in his own way.

He lived a good, long life, somewhere between 15 and 17 years. And though we’re saying goodbye now, Max, your spirit lingers in every corner you claimed, every heart you touched. You were one in a million.

Goodbye, Max. You were, and always will be, worth everything.

Originally written for LinkedIn on 4 January 2025. View original →