I love this city.
Well, Bangalore wasn’t mine to begin with, but I’ve made it mine. I’ve often thought about leaving…to venture forth on unchartered territory…to explore new horizons. This city holds me back; its magic so powerful, I’ve decided to stay on a bit.
Let’s begin at the beginning. My name is as questionable as my family history. Some call me, ‘You Rascal’…some, ‘Bloody Maawngrel’…and the more unforgiving ones, ‘Pariah-Daawg-Get-out!’.
I however prefer, ‘Big Boy’.
My earliest memory was of me howling in a freak thunderstorm, lost and very alone. My poor mother, abandoned by my father, weeks before I was born, had made her home in a partially constructed building. There were many construction sites to choose from…Bangalore seems to be in rapid expansion mode…but for some reason, call it Fate, my mother chose a plot in busy, dusty, bustling Horamavu.
That night, a young neighbour heard my petrified howls and rushed out of her house in the pouring rain. She rescued me from under some debris, and nurtured me for a few days in her house, already home to several pedigree dogs. That night, as she dried me with a soft towel, I vividly remember her eyes shining as she looked deep into mine. ‘You’re pretty big for a street pup…you’re a Big Boy!’
I like that. Big Boy. Makes me feel powerful and distinct from the rest of the ‘Pariah Daawgs’!
So here I reside in a multicultural neighbourhood in Horamavu. Or as the local Autorickshaw drivers say, ‘Varmaavuu?’
I often get fed a variety of treats from the neighbours: Idli-sambar from the Nairs…spicy fish-curry-rice from the Venugopals…Roti-kebab from the Khans…Khara biscuit from the Biscuit man who visits every Sunday…half a chicken sandwich from the call-center ‘Techy” that gets dropped home at 2am… and my own bowl of warm rice-egg-mince gruel every night from the Nazareths (the family of my young rescuer).
This year, I got my first taste of a culinary delight called ‘Biriyani’. All thanks to a loud, jovial group of ‘Supporters’ yelling out to anyone who would listen, that their ‘Leader’ is the one to vote for. They had my support the minute they started handing out small packets of this wonderful ‘Biriyani’ to all the construction workers around the neighbourhood.
Their ‘Leader’ must be a great chef indeed…the Biriyani was delicious!
I relax with a full belly under the bonnet of someone’s car, and survey my surroundings. Red earth filled with pot-hole puddles that quench my thirst…leafy trees that line the narrow street…pretty flower-beds outside the multi-coloured houses…flies buzzing around a garbage heap (must check that out later), the enticing aroma of rain-kissed mud, and someone cooking.
I lead a city dog’s life. I love my life☺
- Big Boy