(A)
In Mesa, I met a woman named Mazi, who shared her story. In 1979, Mazi was living with her son and her mother in Ajmer. Many dogs roamed the streets in Ajmer, and that summer Mazi befriended one. Every day a little brown dog came to her home, searching for food and shelter from the hot sun. Mazi looked forward to the visits, especially when (a) she noticed the dog’s belly swelling with a litter of puppies. With the monsoon season approaching, Mazi, like everyone else in Ajmer, prepared for two to three months of intensified rainfall.
(B)
And then, (b) she turned around and repeated the whole exhausting effort in reverse: back to the door, through the house, and up to the roof, while holding the dog above the water. “I continue to be amazed at the enormous physical strength and strength of purpose that filled me that day,” Mazi stressed, “especially since I didn’t know how to swim! But, I loved that little dog. I was so afraid (c) she would be swept away before I could reach her! Since then I have known: I have strength!”
(C)
Strength emerged in the form of determination, and it rose within Mazi like the water rising around her. Without hesitation, she worked her way down the stairs and through the house. Pushing through chesthigh water, hardly able to see in the darkness, Mazi finally reached the front door. There, with a mixture of resolve and physical strength, (d) she forced the door open and pressed on through the floodwater to the wall. Despite the pressure of the water, Mazi stood steadily and lifted the dog from the wall.
(D)
That summer, the rains were heavy. On July 19, when the water reached flood proportions, Mazi, her son, and her mom climbed the stairs of their one-story home to the rooftop. As the sky darkened and the rain poured, they watched as cattle and furniture rushed by in a massive, muddy river. “Suddenly, I noticed a dog―that dog―standing dangerously on the wall surrounding our house. It was as if my heart burst open,” (e) she said. “I had to save her.”