I’m a Pune street dog. I sleep in the shade of three banks and a coaching institute. SBI on one side, Cosmos Bank on the other, Aakash Institute’s banner still selling some kid a JEE rank he hasn’t cracked yet. Everyone on this stretch of road is selling something. I’ve just found the one flat piece of concrete that isn’t.
There’s a median wall outside the State Bank branch in Viman Nagar. Warm from the sun on top, cool from the oleander hedge behind it. I’ve claimed that wall the way you’d guard a window seat on the last PMPML bus out of the depot, except nobody’s shoving past me to sit down.
No meetings. No EMI I can’t afford. No queue for anything, ever. Just four paws, one ear that refuses to sit straight, and a nap nobody can schedule around.
You’ll walk past me on the way to the bank, or to Irani Cafe for your evening chai, and you won’t look twice. Just another indie stretched out on a traffic divider, background noise to your errands. Good. That’s the whole point. Ignored is the safest thing I’ve ever been.
I’ve been on this stretch longer than most of the signage. Banks change owners. Hoardings get repainted every few months. The institute puts up a new topper’s photo each March like clockwork. I stay.
Rain, VIP convoys, Ganpati traffic that backs up for a kilometre. I’ve slept through all of it, three feet from where you flag down your auto.
Around 8, the school queue forms by the gate across the road, kids in white-and-navy swapping tiffin boxes while their parents idle on two-wheelers. By noon it’s the delivery riders parked under the tree, phones face-down, waiting on an order that’s always five minutes from being ready. Evenings bring the walkers, earphones in, doing laps of the block like the footpath owes them cardio. None of them are looking for me. That’s fine.
Somewhere between the ATM and the current-account banner, there’s a version of this city that isn’t trying to sell you anything. Eight inches tall at the shoulder, white blaze down the face, indian pariah dog built. A lineage that’s slept rough on Indian streets since long before any of these banks put up a branch. Not currently in the market for your car loan.
Water left out on a hot afternoon does more for me than any of this signage ever will. A second look instead of a wide swerve does more still.
That’s me. I’m not going anywhere. Are you?
Also read: I am a nameless Indian stray dog… · and if there’s room by your door, check Pune’s shelter and emergency helpline list and adopt an indie off the street instead of buying one off a website.
“I am a…” features snippets and stories of cats, dogs and other friends this roving dog has met in places near and far.