IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 97- DOG TRAUMA. Brig PS Gothra (Retd )

“Bachao! Bachao!” came a shrill shout for help from the far end of the park.

Some stray dogs were barking. Something was clearly going wrong.

I sprinted. As I reached closer, I saw a tall man — mid-forties, dressed in a nice track suit, running away from a bunch of stray dogs. He tripped, stumbled, and crash-landed.

The dogs weren’t biting, just circling him and barking from a distance. I made one fake stone-picking move and the dogs backed off.

The man was still shaking and mumbling prayers. I made him drink water from the water bottle he was clutching. I said, “you could have hurled that bottle at those dogs.”

He feebly answered, “I got scared.”

I could see the dogs didn’t look ferocious. Mischievous at best. You see, dogs are smart. They sniff fear. If you panic, they chase.

And then, I remembered my days of ‘dog trauma’.

There was a street terrorist (dog) in my colony — Ladoo. It was anything but sweet. Every day I’d cross its gate like I was in a minefield. If the door was open, I took a detour, even if I was late for school.

But life teaches you. It was my cousin’s wedding. The pre-barat ritual of goat butchering and cutting the mutton to right pieces began the previous night. I was thirteen. They joked, “Tipu will do the first slaughter.”

 I was scared. I was thinking that with my one blow and the life form will be gone. There is no ‘undo’ after that. Only God has the right to give or take life of any living being. What if I am not able to do it in one blow? Besides I hated the gory sight of blood spilling. I excused myself, to be laughed at by all.

My punishment? Stand guard with a stick while mutton was chopped and keep the dogs away. Dogs started closing in. One genius swiped a chunk like a pro pickpocket. Everyone laughed — again at me for being a useless member in the team. Someone said, “In inglish skool walon se kuch nahin hota (these English school guys are useless).”

It hurt badly.

Next time a dog came nearer I waived the stick. But it knew I was not serious. I moved closer and I signalled as if I am going to hit it. But it was determined so it growled. In the fear I moved a step backwards and the dog knew it. It almost reached a piece of offal when I saw my elder cousin step in. He grabbed the dog and swung it like a chopper blade. It flew over the wall into the street. With that there was a sound of chaun chaun in the air and all the dogs vanished.

Everyone roared with laughter.

I asked him, “Bhai, what if it bit you? 14 injections in the stomach!”

He smirked, “I’d rather get pricked than be laughed at.”

That line hit harder than the mutton chopper.

Next time a dog came near, I tried grabbing its leg. It ran. Confidence boosted. That evening, I even did the third goat myself.

Four days later, Ladoo charged at me. I didn’t run or flinch.

I grabbed its rear leg, spun it gently and threw it back in his compound wall. That day onwards Ladoo took a detour if it saw me on the way.

My father-in-law was very quiet while I narrated this. His second peg had finished. He had already finished three mirchi pakoras. I thought he will talk about the age when he carried out his first slaughter of an animal. Or he may suggest that all the youth should be trained to slaughter.

I asked, “Peg pawan (Should I pour a drink)?”

He signalled an emphatic no with his hand and said, “You should be careful while applying force and the direction in which you throw the dog over the wall. There is one dog which had landed up in house of the white. There it was treated with a lunch and probably some cash was stashed in its pockets to be used against us.”

I knew liquor and mirchi pakoras are doing the strategic trick.