Copyright © Saptarshi Majumder 2020
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He lived with his cousins and extended family in an area of the city located on the outskirts. He lived an uneventful life. The humans in and around were kind. He grew up trusting them for they gave company and care. Care was a scrap of what they eat which was enough to sustain the body and then the neighbourhood dustbins were always overflowing with leftovers. It is not that life didn’t have its risks. Two of his sisters met with an accident when young and were crushed to death. Their cry of pain still rings in his ears and at times in his nightmares he was hounded by that rushing monster on wheels which killed them one after the other on two separate occasions. He was then young. Their mom had strictly forbidden them to venture out of their home under the culvert. But his sisters were curious to know the world and ventured out to be crushed by the rushing car. He heard their cry of pain and whimpering but that was all. He didn’t see them ever again. His mother couldn’t tell him what had happened for he with his limited knowledge of the world won’t have understood. He grew up to be careful and cautious. He never rushed through the traffic whatever may be the temptations. He knew that the cars, buses, trucks, and bikes are killing machines and he didn’t want to get killed. Although at night the bright lights of the two eyes were strangely mesmerizing, yet he never looked at the lights not to be enchanted by their magic grip. Only a few days ago his uncle was hit by a truck as he got rooted to the road as he looked at the light galloping towards him for a sure kill. Don’t look at the lights and you will live another day that everyone knew but still now and then one or the other will make that fatal mistake and end up being a pulp of crushed bone. Let’s hear his story from his own mouth.
Whenever I crossed the road, I just looked straight and used my ears and followed my nose to the other side. You would wonder as to why did I take that risk of crossing the road. It is for the fact that the dustbin was on the other side and I lived on this side of the road. The smell emanating from the dump would draw me to it like the irresponsible smell of a bitch.
I was living a good life troubled only by the ticks. The sting of their bite was irksome and frustrating for the itch will always be in a place which was difficult to reach. In Spring they were more of a trouble. Anyway, nothing was not that intolerable. Most of the time I lay in a leisurely way beside the way and looked at life passing by. Along with the others in my pack, I patrolled the streets especially at night and alerted all on seeing an intruder. No body told us to do so. But still we just did that for we thought of the people living there as our own and didn’t want any harm to fall upon them. I have also learned early that showing affection and playful interest might impress some people and they might give us something to eat. So, I showed respect to the people there and some among them rewarded me with food. It was a lovely arrangement. We got our freedom and we got our food and in return all we had to do was to serve as aggressive intruder alert and affectionate neighbourhood friend.
Then one day they all vanished. There were no vehicles crisscrossing the road, there were no people to either bark at or to wriggle to. It was quiet. No body came out of their home. The shops remained closed. They do that once in a week and sometimes even during weekdays but then also it’s never so eerily quiet. They do come out. We were happy to have the world to ourselves. We were happy to get rid of the moving vehicles. We were happy to scavenge the garbage uninterrupted. We were having a gala time. That day we ruled the roads. Night has become day and in broad daylight we patrolled the empty streets. Some also fulfilled their long-standing dream and rolled on the road. It was so much fun with no one to interrupt and intervene. That day there were no skirmishes among us for there was enough space for everyone and all were in a good mood.
Next morning, we expected the world to be same again but nothing happened. It was as quiet as the earlier day. It seemed as if by magic people had vanished. That day we began to have an inkling of the trouble for with the people vanished the food. There were no biscuits. There were no leftovers from the butchers. There was no discarded food from the restaurants. There was nothing except the garbage and the garbage began to rot. We do eat from the garbage, but we don’t prefer to eat rotten food. There’s a difference between thrown away food and rotten food. Many people couldn’t understand that but there’s a gulf of a difference. Day three saw a brawl over the garbage but that food hole was drying up and there was little good food and too many hungry mouths. I began to worry then. I envied the cats who could hunt on their own. All I could hunt was a fly and a cockroach. I wished the people to come back to the roads. The vehicles were bad, but I was willing to compromise for people meant food and food was getting scarce. After the big bullies had their share, I went to look for food in the garbage. I didn’t find much. Then I decided to sleep through the better part of the day.
The fourth day I crouched behind a sparrow and tried to hunt but before I could spring a surprise, the bird sprang up to the sky. I just stood there like a fool wishing for the bird to drop dead, so that, I could eat it. The bird didn’t fall out of the sky and the hunger didn’t stop gnawing inside me. I went out looking for food but there was nothing. I tried to eat a paper in which once food was wrapped but it didn’t make me feel good and I dropped the idea. My nose failed me for it couldn’t guide me to any food. I kept smelling the air to catch a wisp of food fragrance but there was none. For the first time I felt so jealous of those pets living inside houses always trying to please their masters and putting a bad name to the species for being bootlickers. They had access to food while we starved eating dirt. Their golden cages compared to our dusty freedom looked a welcome place when the hunger became too much of a distraction. Then all I could think was food. It became a persistent dream too good to be true. I curled up and went to sleep.
The fifth day brought relief for one person living in the neighbourhood came out of her house and came with food. Oh, it was so good! Food is Heaven and starvation is Hell. That good person had brought food for all of us. We had our fill. I could have had more but then it's not good to be greedy like those caged pets bathed regularly and forced to walk with their humans in such ungodly ways. That day there were no fights and all of us patrolled the night streets not scavenging scraps but doing our duty with devotion and dedication. She started coming every second day and next time she brought a man with her. They looked like a God and Goddess bestowing blessings. The other people still behaved in a strange way for there were very few on the roads. We don’t know for how long it will be like that, but it doesn’t matter for now we have our saviour. Our trust on the people of the locality has paid us handsomely for they didn’t forget us in our need. More food from more people poured in and there was no dearth of food. I shudder to think what would have happened if the people didn’t come out of their house. We are stray dogs and we don’t have a home except the street. We don’t belong to a person, but we belong to the neighbourhood. We don’t guard the premises of a house, but we guard the entire locality. We would be nowhere without the support of the people of that locality because we don’t have any master, but we have the entire community as our mentor and benefactor. We are the stray dogs thriving on the common good rather than on individual ownership and we need the community to thrive. I realised that good Samaritans make the community a commune by making it a collection of people and beings willing to give and share; and thus, staying together makes life better. The commonwealth of the community is a stand against starvation and that commonwealth is made of good deeds of the community members, good deeds not ordained and enforced but good deeds in tandem to the contentment of the heart happy and willing. We, the strays living on the periphery of the domesticated wild, survive in that symbiotic solution of collaboration between species.
Mr. Saptarshi Majumder