Pinky

Wincing in agony, Pinky trudged along the road. She focuses on the task at hand- locating a shady location for an afternoon nap. She curls up in a ball under the street lamp. The narrow strip of shade provides feeble shelter against the sweltering heat. Buzzing flies swarm. Swirls of dust sting her eyes.

A plump woman wobbles down the street. Mrs. Sheelah. Every Sunday, she feeds bread to the strays to balance her karma. Pinky picks up the piece of bread with her mouth. Suddenly, a starving pack of strays snarled at her. They growl, bite and trample on her.

After the vicious barrage, Pinky limps. The ferocious gang eye her from across the street. Suddenly, a stampede of footsteps echoes. The school boys. The sewage hole under the street lamp. First, she squeezes her head in. Then, twists her body left and right. At last, she squeezes her butt inside.

The boys cackled savagely.

"Aaw," they snigger. "Is little- wittle Pinky scared? How boring! Come on out."

They pelt her with stones. Pinky shuts her eyes, whimpering. She preferred to play fetch-the-ball, than this not-so-fun game.

They kick mud into the sewage hole. Pinky choked, as the dust sprayed on her face. The dust blurs her vision. The smirking faces of the boys become a blur.

A distant shout is heard. Probably their mothers. They sprint off home. Peering outside, Pinky crawls out of the hole. Passers-by squeezed their noses, as they walked past her. Probably due to the sewage stench. Probably due to her once white coat being stained brown. Probably due to the maggots festering in her wounds.

"Ugh," gagged, one of the women. "What a hideous-looking mutt!"

"Oh, how she stinks!" remarked her friend.

"Honestly," the woman continued, shaking her head. "These strays should be banned! What a nuisance!"

Resting her head between her paws, she glanced at the towering building. Royalty apartments. The corrugated iron gate led to about two hundred or so posh flats. Whenever she could steal a glance, Pinky could see cobblestone paths flanked by green lawns. She imagined rolling around those green lawns.

Yawn. Too much thinking caused her head to spin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to think of nothing.

The sky turned a shade of periwinkle. The buzzing neon signs of shops turned on. Old women strolled, exchanging gossip. A line of vehicles on the street persistently honked at each other. Pinky could guess the street sounds, with her eyes closed. The chatter of old women. The ringing of cycle bells. Stray dogs growled at the domesticated dogs during their walks.

Unknowingly, Pinky had become a landmark for Rajnagar road over the past seven years. People would say, "Take a right from where that dirty, brown dog lies down."

Her lethargic, old body did not permit her to move much from the street lamp.

Out of the blue, a small boy dashed across the road. A speeding motorcycle headed in the boy's direction. Before the tragedy could unfold, Pinky darted in. She grabbed the ends of the boy's shirt with her teeth, pulling him back. The boy stared at her adoringly.

"You saved my life. Thank you!" he beamed.

He patted her head. She could feel the warmth and benevolence radiate from his palm.

"What did you do to my child, you idiot dog?" chided a woman. She hissed.

"Mama, this doggy saved my life. Or else-"

"You stay away from my boy, you hear me?" she growled at Pinky. "Come on Ram, let's go."

Sighing, she returned under the street lamp. At least, she could stay out of people's way.

The sky turned inky black. Shopkeepers started pulling the shutters of their shops. The lights in the flats turned on. The lurid street lights poured onto the road. Pinky loathed the nighttime. Depending on their mood, the pack of dogs would choose to attack her. Huh. New unrecognizable smell.

She glanced once at the other dogs. They had fallen asleep. She sniffed around vigorously. Bingo! Under a thicket f weeds, she located a stale chapati. The chapati had grown as hard as a rock. The jagged pieces scraped the sides of her throat, as she swallowed. Feeling full, she curled up into a ball and dozed off.

A screeching scratching noise woke her up. A chestnut cat strolled about. Never having seen this cat, Pinky studied her. Milk covered her whiskers and mouth. The cat glimpsed at Pinky, before bolting off in the opposite direction.

The next few mornings, the cat's scratching woke Pinky up. Milk always dripped from the cat's face. The cat would check on the sleeping security guard, before rushing off.

One morning, the bustling of a crowd woke her up. About twenty to thirty ladies marched outside of the iron gate.

"This is the dog," announced one of the ladies. She pointed an accusing finger at Pinky.

"She is the sneaky one, who has been stealing our milk packets for the past few days," accused another lady.

"How unforgivable! did you know that she tried to bite my boy, Ram the other day?" chimed in another lady. THat ensued in a chorus of gasps.

"Shall we call the animal services?" one of them suggested.

"Of course." scoffed, one of them. "I cannot fathom my children going near any of these. She motioned towards all the strays.

"Wait," responded, one of the ladies. "How do we even know it's them? Do we have proof?"

Disgruntled murmurs ran through the crowd. "Look, these strays are rowdy. We should have called animal services on them, a long time ago."

"But how-"

"I have called animal services!" exclaimed, one of the ladies. "They will be here within an hour."

The dogs' savior sank back into the crowd, with a defeated face.

For an hour, the crowd gawked over the street dogs. Any newcomers to the parade were filled in on the news.

Pinky's ears were perked up. She never attracted this much attention before. A new smell distracted her! With unbreakable attention, she dug the ground. Sticking her face into the hole, she snorted and sneezed. The screeching of tyres caught everyone's attention. A black van parked with the word 'POUND' painted in white on it. Two burly men emerged from the van.

Pinky nodded at them and then, continued with her hunt for the smell. The men carried funny ropes with a loop attached at the end. Playtime! Pinky grabbed the loop and tugged it with her mouth. The man strained and struggled. He twisted it out of her mouth and whipped her with the rope. Pinky groaned and gave him a confused look. He is supposed to tug the rope, not hit.

From behind, the other man had successfully muzzled her. The plastic squeezed the breath out of her. Her eyes watered, as she looked around. The standing aunties, men and strays became a swirl of colors. The agony spread to her temples. The loop around her neck choked her. They dragged her inside the van. As she made a futile attempt to rush outside, they shoved her inside.

The inside of the van reeked of a musty smell. Flakes of rust hung from the walls. She felt trapped inside a searing oven. The van door creaked open again. Five other strays were pushed inside. Despite their muzzles, they snapped at Pinky. Even in this compressed space, they needed her to know who the boss was.

The muzzle suppressed her whimpers. The same van had come for her puppies several years before. Pinky could not even remember their faces anymore. As the van departed, Pinky could only place her paw against the grilled window. Her way of bidding farewell to her home for seven years.