“The black skinned, beef eating pervert Mallus have again proved that- not only their skin is dark but their hearts are darker still. By killing the innocent stray dogs on the streets the people of Kerala have exposed their real face and their true colours. These lunatics claim 100% literacy but I would say they are 100% ill- literate. Lets shove hot iron rods up their asses my fellow Indians. Like parasites they have inflicted every nook and corner of this country…Not only this country…the entire world.Let us give them back in their own coin my friends!!! Let’s hit them where it hurts the most. I urge you all to make as many bookings in as many rooms as possible in all the resorts and hotels in Kerala and then make last minute cancellations. Also let us throw them out of our properties… Do not rent a single flat to anyone from Kerala… Also these job-begging morons should not be given any job, anywhere and I also request my fellow citizens to push the Mallus out of running trains whenever they get a chance to do so…Piss on their cloths and the canned water we deliver them. Screw them up guys for killing innocent animals..yesss lets do it!!!” #BoycottKerala, #StopKillingDogs
After typing the above, Kishan Chakraborthy, a fair skinned and handsome 28 year old software engineer from Kolkata re-read his own words with relish. He had injected enough hatred against the Mallus just like he had done in his previous posts. He sipped whiskey from the glass kept by the side of his laptop. He then clicked “post” and lo…the status was updated on his timeline. Kishan lived in a dirty 2BHK flat along with his father Niranjan Chakraborthy and mother Suhasini Chakraborthy.
He could see the encroaching evening fog creeping in through his window. He looked at the fragments of the Sun cut into odd angles by the steel trusses of the Howrah bridge. Like a mother singing lullaby for her child, the Hooghly river sang for the city as she flowed in rhythm. But Kishan could hear the cacophony of a Kolkata that hardly slept to her watery song.
“Kishan we need to go to the temple… are you ready…?” he heard his mom shout.
“Yeah mom…gimme 5 minutes…lemme get ready…” Kishan drowned the whiskey as he replied. He put on his Dhoti and Kurtha for the evening prayers and emptied the left overs of Pan Parag into his mouth. He searched for ghutka, but could not find it. There was nothing more intoxicating than a mix of Ghutka and Whiskey. He shut down his laptop, took his bike’s key and opened the door.
His Father, a 60 year old war veteran was watching the local news whereas his mother was anxiously waiting for him.
“Come Mom.. let’s go…” Kishan patted her shoulders as he climbed down the sairs of the flat. As he reached the basement, he spat on the pillar, like he always did. The white pillar wore the red and brown stains of Pan and Ghutka spits like a dirty skirt . But a good spit after a yummy chew gave Kishan some kind of divine satisfaction… a kind of orgasm.
He started the bike and his mother sat behind him. That is when Suhasini Chakraborthy, who was into her early fifties noticed the garbage bag hanging by the side of her son’s red Bajaj Pulsar.
“Beta… you did not throw away the garbage bag today morning… it is still handing by the side of the bike…”
That’s when Kishan cursed his folly. A whole day the stinking bag was hanging there by his bike, and he did not notice. Well, life was too busy to notice anything worthy.
“It’s Ok mom.. will throw it on the way…”
As they went to the Krishna Temple, Kishan threw the garbage carelessly on the roadside.
They finished pooja and aarthi from the temple and the mother-son duo were quick on their way back home.The darkness of the approaching night was catching up with them.
Kishan was whistling the latest Bengali hit. His mom was sitting behind, holding his shoulder with her one hand and temple prasad with her other. He could see his mom’s beautiful face in the rear view mirror. Even though she had grey hair; her skin was milky white, spotless and wrinkle free. As they neared the place where Kishan had dumped the garbage earlier, a few drops of water trickled over his nose. Instinctively Kishan looked up in search of the source and saw dark clouds gathering above in the sky.
“Holy shit… it is going to rain…” he cursed and accelerated his bike.
As he speed down the road and reached the exact place where he had dumped the waste from his household, he noticed the stray dog by the roadside. It was chewing the wastes from the garbage bag he had thrown there. It’s head was completely into the garbage bag as if it was having a feast. But Kishan neither stopped nor did he slow down. He went full throttle. Suddenly the dog looked up from the garbage bag. It growled in anger showing all its vicious teeth as if it felt Kishan was coming for a share of it’s meal. Then in a flash of a second, the dog jumped towards the approaching bike.
Kishen was totally taken by surprise and made a sharp right turn, but the dog came after him. And the bike ran over the dog. The slimy skin and flesh lifted the bike off it’s grip from the road. As the front wheel rolled over the dog’s body, it made a violent motion under the bike, sending Kishan and his mother flying off the bike.
Kishan’s head hit the gravel by the roadside as he fell. But, a fraction of a second before that, he heard something crack. Like the sound of a coconut shell cracking over a stone. A truck laden with boulders screeched to a sudden halt 100 meters ahead of where they had fallen.
Kishan sprawled by the roadside with his body totally numb and paralysed. He saw his own pool of blood spreading around his head. The pool of blood felt warm against his facial skin. He saw the dog that caused the accident running towards the other end of the road, barking and chasing some other dogs as if nothing had happened. Kishan’s dying vision searched for his mother. There…right in the middle of the road, she was lying motionless. Her body was intact… everything looked fine…except for her head. In fact, there was no head at all. Kishan’s eyes could not distinguish between his mother’s head from the surface of the road. They both looked fused and gelled together.
Kishan saw the truck driver, his helper and some people running in his direction. But before he closed his eyes forever, he saw Lord Krishna in all his majesty and splendour come down and lovingly lift his mother’s soul to the heavens above. And Lord Krishna’s skin colour was nothing but dark…dark like the gathering black clouds above him.
Well, unaware of this great great tragedy, Kishan’s post started taking baby steps towards fame. In the cyber world now it had 50 likes,15 shares and 25 comments. A battle ensued online, but little did anyone know that the commander was lying dead by the roadside.
One of our beloved teachers left us after a brave fight with death when the auto-rickshaw she was travelling fell off a steep road trying to evade a stray dog.
My best friend’s father met with an accident a few months back when a stray dog got strangled in his bike. He had 14 stitches on his face and a broken leg. He could have died, but fortunately he survived.
Both the above incidents could have been avoided if food-wastes from hotels or households were properly disposed off. But people keep dumping wastes which in turn feeds stray dogs that gets multiplied in to generations. We deserve to be bitten and we deserve to be dead as well if we are the root cause. Why blame the poor dogs??
My intention here is not to criticise anyone or any state. But Boycott Kerala has been doing the rounds and has garnered considerable support across various fraternities across the globe.
I doubt the compassion of people who cannot respect their own brothers and sisters but have their heart bursting with sympathy for street dogs. Remember your pledge?? “All Indians are my brothers and sisters…”?? yes that’s it…that is the one.
You will never understand the reality until something really goes wrong with you or your family members. Till then it’s all fine on Facebook or pen and paper. Try standing in the shoes of a daughter who lost a mother…place yourself in a situation where you have been bitten by a rabid dog and there is no medicine available.Things look good as long as something does not go wrong with you. Some people are saying they are against killing dogs whatsoever…even after reading this story… if their father, mother or brother would be hurt or even dead would they say the same thing? I doubt that.
I’m not saying killing dogs or any animal for any reason whatsoever is right, but we need to correct ourselves at the roots. We as human beings not only have responsibility towards our species, but for the remaining bio-diversity as well.
My dear friends… today you will boycott Kerala for culling dogs. Tomorrow we will boycott Goa for land Mafia or drugs…then latter TN for some other issue…after that it will be J&K’s turn…then…we may end up boycotting India itself?? Let us not showcase our country as a land with no unity. We are much more than just Kerala or TN or West-Bengal..we are one and we are Indians.
Here are some FB updates that would hurt us a lot… but wait…the last one is the best:
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