STRAYS.

Last week was the coldest week in our city. The temperatures were reaching sweater worthy in this global warming era. We had just finished our dinner and just about to hit the bed. Chaitra who keeps her packed school bag in the hall just before bed alarmingly called me out of my room. She drew my ears to a soft whimper outside our main door. It was late and She wore a worried look on her face.I opened the main door and found a unfamiliar brown stray dog pawing our safety door.He looked pretty well built for a stray dog.There was no collar around his neck. He probably belonged to some other building and had wandered off to search for food. He looked lost. His soft bellowed whimpers brought tears to my daughter's eyes. He had climbed 12 floors just to rummage for food in the waste bins kept near the stairs of all the flats.

Chaitra immediately rushed to the fridge and brought slices of bread for the poor hungry dog. I had some other plan in my mind though. I told her to sleep, reassuring her that I would indeed feed the dog.

I just escorted the dog downstairs and once we reached the lobby, gave him bread and water. She asked me the reason for this action. I told her that had we fed the dog at our door step then he would have come daily as a habit. With my kids around, a stray could be a source of worry and anxiety. Besides, my notorious son has a perilous habit of pulling the tails of pets without being afraid of consequences.

The dog never came back. Maybe, he returned to where he belonged.
Our building dogs are all well fed by animal loving samaritans. They bark only at strangers and unknown vehicles. They are friendly with children but never get too close for comfort.

Many winters back,It was pretty late in the night when we heard the doorbell go ding dong sending us into a semi panic attack. Who could it be now? was the question lingering in my mind.I was still young and easily frightened by such incidents. My robust dad opened the door and called me out to identify the shivering teenager who kept on muttering my name in a fervent manner.I was shocked to see my ex class mate Haresh in a dishevelled state.

Ther was a look of desperation in his eyes. He had simply stopped coming to school since last few months. He was a fatherless child and belonged to a poor strata of society.He was a victim of crack addiction and lately, had resorted to ask money from the parents of his class mates. He was accompanied by a haggard looking lady, his mother who was a low IQ lady and did not know anything about their current plight. They begged for 50 rupees to buy food for themselves. They were incessant in their pleas with moist eyes, eliciting severest sympathy from our side. I was sad to see him in this state.

He had strayed out in life. He had walked on the wrong side of life.

My dad was worldly wise and he declined. I pleaded with my eyes silently but he was a stern man.

He called out my mom and asked her to pack grains of rice and dal alongwith biscuits and bread. Haresh's mother was pleased but Haresh was'nt. He needed money for his next fix of nirvana.He dejectedly dragged his mother along with him. My dad tried counselling him, but in vain.

I did not see Haresh after this incident.

A few years back, I saw a frail looking man with an elderly stooped lady begging for alms. They looked wasted. Looking at them made me cringe within.Haresh had lost his battle of life. They would not survive for more than a few months.

I had no courage to get out of my car.

I cannot change the writing on the wall.

Some strays always remain strays through out their life.