By Pallavi Mishra
I
was standing at a bus stop waiting for my bus when suddenly a haul distracted
me. It was a malnourished stray dog crying and walking with a very recently
crippled leg. He was carting his own back limb which was completely fractured
and half torn apart. ‘Oh that bus hit this poor creature’ was a call from an
old lady. Everyone was carrying a concerned look on their blank faces but none,
including me, came to his rescue. I stood there and watched him giving up at
the middle of the road, with hands on my mouth. I asked a gentleman standing
next to me to give me a hand and place that sick animal on the side walk to
avoid any other casualty possible as he was laying at the most vulnerable
place, but I was embarrassed when he gave a very logical denial ‘he is an
animal and in pain, He may bite’. We all were just noticing his every
movement as mute spectators. Then came my bus, which I could not afford to
miss. Suddenly something clicked and I dialed emergency number on my mobile
phone. “Namaskar its Delhi
police, how can I help you” a women asked. I told her the whole story and asked
her for the right person to contact.
As
suggested by that customer care executive, I dialed the numbers of Delhi
Municipal Corporation. After repeating the same story again to the man who
picked up the phone, I was forwarded to somebody who was probably the senior to
the person who answered the phone at the first place. ‘What’s the matter madam’
he asked and I repeated the same story again more precisely. By now I had
synchronized the whole event chronologically and perfectly. I was just a
bit disheartened the way he gave me the number of South Municipality,
under which my area falls.
After
repeating the same process again and again my voice developed a harsh and
temporary baritone, but that didn’t scare anyone as I was told that the
veterinary services should be contacted for this kind of issue. I wanted to
blast at the guy on the opposite side of the phone but something stopped me,
may be that innocent dog in pain. By the time I reached veterinary services on
phone my bus had already covered half way to my destination.
A
lady named Anjana answered the phone and I repeated the same story fourth time
in less then 20 minutes. “Madam, I am writing your complaint but we don’t have
any pickup vehicle or boys to help that stray. Why don’t you call some NGO near
by?”. This sentence of hers attracted a reaction good enough to tell at least
20 people in the bus that a dog was struggling and our system could do nothing
but filing a complaint. I was actually shouting and telling her that I am a
journalist and you have to be scared, if not of God then at least of media. I
noticed, with the corner of my eye, some 5-6 people giving me strange glances.
But who care, scaring her to take some action was the soul task and it looked
like I succeeded in doing that.
I
received a series of calls after that conversation with Anjana. It looked like
everyone in that department was suddenly concerned about that crippled dog who unanticipatedly became a hero. I even wanted to
give him a name but something stopped me from developing any closeness to that
creature. Almost from no where a vehicle and two boys were arranged for the
frantic task. I directed them to the place. It took some two hours in the whole
process. The dog was nowhere to be found. Those two people spent more then
usual to look for him but could not find him. Tired, they called me and what
else I could say, “Leave it, its his fate now”.
I
was proud and shameful at the same time. Journalist is really that big of a
word?
