Time and again, one of my senior colleagues has been asking me to write about street dogs. When asked him if he wanted me to write about stray dogs and their threat to society, he shook his head in disapproval. “I want you to write about street dogs, not stray dogs.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked. “A street dog belongs to a particular street and is fed by inhabitants of the place. It has not strayed from anywhere,” he replied. “But why do you want me to write about them?”
“Kyunki aaj kal inke hone se hi pata lagta hai ki iss basti mein log baste hain (These days, their existence is the only proof that people live here),” was his poetic submission.
I’ve always had my reservations about street dogs and their role in society. I love to watch their antics when they are wee pups and often feed them with bread and milk. Children of our household have been encouraged to feed these street-side pets both in the morning and evening. However, as soon as they are fully grown, they tend to become a nuisance. They prefer to hang around the house in anticipation of someone coming out and feeding them. The members of the household, who are used to them, don’t mind their presence. But often, they become a source of inconvenience to guests. They don’t allow the guests to approach the gate or ring the doorbell. The guests, while leaving, hesitate on seeing them sprawled at leisure outside the gate and don’t shy away from showing their scepticism about the canine threat. At times like these, we feel at a loss and have to shoo them away.
A few days ago, a fresh brood of puppies could be seen trotting around in the college campus much to the amusement of students, especially girls, who could be seen carrying them around and pampering them by feeding packs of biscuits or milk procured from the canteen. It’s a different matter, altogether, that the same girls would be seen shrieking and jumping around trying to avoid them once they are all grown up.
However, the most amusing and heart-warming scene was witnessed when one of the puppies tried to play truant by crossing the campus threshold to go across on the busy state highway. The six-foot tall security guard, deputed at the college gate hurriedly swooped it up and brought it back while complaining, “Kisi car ke niche aa jayega, bewakoof (You could get run over by a car).” The burly man carrying the adorable little pup in his palm was a charming sight and the man’s action was suitably appreciated and applauded by all.
I’m still unsure whether these animals are advantageous to society or not. There is, also, an ongoing debate on fixing accountability and responsibility of these street-side pets. In the meantime, I shall, in honour of their loyalty, endorse the poet’s view,
“Mat puchhiye ki mera karobaar kaya hai
Wafaadari ki chhoti si dukaan hai, dhokhe ke bazaar mein.”
sonrok15@gmail.com
The writer is an assistant professor of English at SD College in Ambala
