On that rainy day
Before I realized it was raining, I was drenched. It was a cloudburst of sorts. I steered my bike to the closest shelter. Not that shelter mattered by then but the rain was so heavy that I really couldn’t continue to ride. I had stopped next to a house by the side of the road that had enough space to provide me with a little shelter. As I was wiping my eyes I heard a squeak and I looked up to realized there was an 8–9 month old dog in front of me. He was tied with a rope that didn’t allow him to move more than three steps. I thought it was very rude of whoever tied the dog in such a way. By then the wind grew stronger and I could see the rain drops falling in a disciplined tilt, unfortunately into the shelter. I did manage to squeeze myself deeper into the pavement, two inches to be precise, but the dog couldn’t, thanks to the small rope. His squeaks grew louder. I looked into his beady eyes and I felt sorry him.
I didn’t see signs of rain slowing down anytime soon nor did I see any hope of the owner taking the dog in. I looked at the dog again and this time I couldn’t really stop myself and I rang the bell. After repeated attempts, a lady opened the door, visibly very upset at me. The language barrier was very apparent pretty soon. So I pointed at the dog, then the rope, then the rain and the dog again. She gave me an expression, “I kind of understood what you said, but SO WHAT?”. She also said something which I am guessing meant the same thing.
I insisted that she take the dog in. I was not sure she understood me, but I was sure she was annoyed with me! I looked at the dog and he looked all the more confused. His whiskers and eyebrows had droplets of water all over them. I continued pestering the lady again and eventually she wanted to get rid of me more than the dog. So with a “cut the crap” look on her face, she untied the dog, and went inside the house without letting the dog in.
The dog and I had a couple of inches of pavement to share. I was somehow happy in his company and he was not skeptical about my presence anymore. In a little while, the wind died down and so did the rain. It was still drizzling but I could now be on my way. I left the pavement, walked up to my bike and wiped the seat. The dog keenly observed my actions and gazed at me intensely. I looked for one last time at the dog; smiled and prayed for him and got back onto the road.
As I looked into the rear view mirror for traffic, I could not believe what I saw! The dog was running after me. I was awestruck and overwhelmed. I parked my bike and waved to the dog signaling him to return; but he wouldn’t listen, he kept running towards me. I had to be louder, sterner and I insisted that he returned. The dog resigned and slowed down; I kept waving, suggesting him to go back. He understood my gesture and turned around and started going back. I sat on my bike and got ready to proceed. With a smile on, I looked into my rear view mirror. I wish I had not. A zooming car couldn’t really see the small dog through the fog and the drizzle. I remember that that to be the loudest and most painful scream of my life.
- An account in his own words by Nakul Charekar.
