Email
Print
ShareThere are at least 16 guards protecting my large society at Powai in Mumbai. I know them by face, but only when they are in their uniforms. Everyday, on my morning walks with my pet Pixie, I am joined by a group of three to four mongrels. This morning was no different. As I came down, three dogs accosted us and we began the ritual.
After taking a few steps, however, I noticed that the mongrels, instead of following their regular beat, were distracted by a limping man walking slowly. Seeing him, the dogs which usually followed us, went and surrounded him, nudged him with their noses, and welcomed him with a generous wagging of their tails.
Naturally, I was curious. Who was this man who had mesmerised the mongrels in my backyard? More importantly, if he were such a dog lover and a morning person, why hadn't I encountered him at this hour before? I think my pet sensed that I was perplexed, and like all dogs, my faithful, too, chose to lead the way in my moment of confusion.
I followed my pet, and, slowly, the picture revealed itself. The limping man was playing with the dogs, and his affection appeared natural. I then remembered his face. He was one of the 16 security guards, but I hadn't seen him for a while, not even on the day the 'Diwali bakshish' was distributed. He said that he had suffered a devastating paralytic attack, six months ago, and lost his job.
I had not even heard a murmur about this, in the neighbourhood! "Now I am back, but I am not completely fit," the guard said. "The recovery will be slow". I was speechless.
I left the man with the dogs. His dogs. His companions on the lonely beat. Those mongrel dogs weren't loyal just to me, but to the entire fenced community. That day they taught me something.
I remembered the dogs and the lonely man again at work when I came across an interview of painter A Balasubramaniam. The painter joined the dots for me. n his interview he said: If you are walking in a park, and the sunlight filters through, you can't really see it until you place a paper or another medium in front of you, and the light shows up on the paper. You might not have noticed the light the same way, earlier.
That's because there is no definitive medium to capture and express that light. So, one has to try and see beyond what our five senses allow us to see. I thought about the dogs, the limping man, and the play of light and darkness, that somehow got the dogs to show me who that man was.
-- The author is an editor with DNA
