Honourable Prime Minister, I Too Am Your Citizen

"If a kingdom is judged by how it treats its weakest, what does my existence say about your Republic?"*

Who speaks for those who cannot speak?

Who listens to those who have no vote?

Who protects those who have no property?

Who mourns those whose deaths are never counted?

And if justice belongs only to those who can speak human languages, can it still be called justice?

~*~

Respected Prime Minister,

I do not know your language.

I do not know your Constitution.

I do not know your laws.

I only know hunger.

I only know fear.

I only know loyalty.

I only know that every sunrise is another examination of whether I shall remain alive until sunset.

I am one among the millions of street dogs who live in the lanes, markets, bus stands, railway stations, temples, villages, and cities of India.

People call me "stray."

Yet I wonder...

How did I become a stray in the very land where my ancestors guarded villages long before concrete roads existed?

~*~

Every morning begins with uncertainty.

Will someone throw me a biscuit?

Or will someone throw a stone?

I never know.

Sometimes both come from the same street.

One child smiles.

Another kicks.

One woman leaves rice outside her gate.

Her neighbour curses her for feeding me.

One elderly man pats my head.

Another raises a stick before I even wag my tail.

My life depends not upon law but upon the mood of strangers.

~*~

Prime Minister,

You receive intelligence reports every morning.

I receive survival reports every second.

I constantly calculate danger.

That speeding motorcycle.

That angry shopkeeper.

That drunken man returning home.

That group of boys laughing loudly.

That car that never slows down.

Every shadow could become my last memory.

~*~

You speak of national security.

May I ask...

Does security have a species requirement?

Because I have never experienced it.

~*~

People say I bark too much.

Have they ever wondered why?

I bark because I am frightened.

I bark because unknown people enter my territory every night.

I bark because thieves move in darkness.

I bark because snakes crawl where humans sleep.

I bark because I have no CCTV cameras.

I am the CCTV.

Only mine is powered by instinct instead of electricity.

Ironically, when danger actually arrives, many of the same people who curse my barking expect me to alert them.

~*~

I protect homes that are not mine.

I guard streets that I do not own.

I defend neighbourhoods that rarely defend me.

And still...

I remain unwanted.

~*~

Some people poison my food.

Some pour boiling water on me.

Some beat me for sleeping.

Some deliberately drive vehicles over my puppies.

Some separate mothers from newborns.

Some abandon pet dogs after years of companionship, leaving them confused, frightened, and incapable of surviving outside.

Then they call us "menaces."

Tell me honestly...

Who abandoned whom?

~*~

I have seen my brothers die slowly after eating plastic.

Not because they liked plastic.

Because hunger does not permit careful choices.

I have searched through garbage mountains where yesterday's luxury becomes today's survival.

Humans waste food by the tonne.

I fight crows over a stale piece of bread.

~*~

Do you know what hunger feels like?

Not missing one meal.

Missing several.

Your stomach slowly forgets what fullness means.

Your body becomes lighter.

Your legs weaker.

Your eyes begin searching every human hand, not for affection, but for food.

~*~

Some days I find a temple.

Devotees feed the deity first.

Then they feed pigeons.

Sometimes cows.

Occasionally monkeys.

Very rarely...

Someone notices me.

Perhaps God receives my prayer through leftovers.

~*~

Prime Minister,

Our ancient civilization was different.

Very different.

In those days, kings did not merely govern people.

They governed life itself.

The Ramayana tells us the remarkable story of a dog approaching the court of Lord Rama seeking justice after being assaulted by a Brahmin. The king did not dismiss the complaint because the complainant had four legs instead of two. The dog was heard. Justice was rendered.

The Mahabharata ends with Yudhishthira refusing to abandon a faithful dog even at the gates of heaven. He chose loyalty over paradise.

King Shibi sacrificed his own flesh to save a dove.

Emperor Ashoka issued edicts protecting animals.

Kautilya prescribed penalties for cruelty towards living creatures.

Compassion was once considered statecraft.

Today...

It often depends upon whether someone is recording the incident on a mobile phone.

~*~

Once upon a time...

Animals could approach the king.

Today...

Even humans struggle to access justice.

Where should I go?

To the police station?

Will they register my complaint?

To court?

Will I understand legal procedure?

To the municipality?

They often arrive only after someone has complained that I exist.

~*~

People proudly call India the land of Ahimsa.

I hear that word often.

Usually while someone is throwing a stone at me.

~*~

The Constitution asks citizens to show compassion towards living creatures.

I do not know what Article 51A(g) means.

But I know what compassion feels like.

It feels like clean water on a hot afternoon.

It feels like someone removing a thorn from my paw.

It feels like medicine instead of another kick.

It feels like hearing my puppies breathe peacefully through the night.

~*~

Prime Minister,

Do you know my greatest fear?

It is not death.

Death comes only once. Cruelty arrives every day.

~*~

Some people say feeding us creates problems.

Interesting.

People also smoke in public.

Drink in public.

Litter public spaces.

Spit on roads.

Blast loud music.

Pollute rivers.

Dump garbage.

Yet somehow...

Compassion towards hungry animals becomes the public nuisance.

What a curious civilization.

~*~

I have noticed another irony.

Humans celebrate "Dog Day."

They upload photographs with imported pet breeds.

They write emotional captions about unconditional love.

Then they chase away the Indian dog sleeping outside their gate.

Apparently, compassion also has a pedigree certificate.

~*~

We Indian dogs are rarely fashionable.

We are not expensive.

Nobody buys us.

Nobody breeds us for profit.

Nobody posts glamorous photographs of us wearing designer collars.

Yet when floods come...

Earthquakes strike...

Or strangers enter unfamiliar streets...

It is often we who first raise the alarm.

History remembers famous war horses.

It should also remember anonymous street dogs.

~*~

Prime Minister,

I am not asking for luxury.

I am asking for dignity.

Not imported food.

Just enough food.

Not palaces.

Just a safe corner.

Not privilege.

Just protection from needless cruelty.

Not sympathy.

Justice.

~*~

Can every city have clean community feeding zones?

Can every locality have drinking water bowls during summer?

Can schools teach children that kindness is also patriotism?

Can cruelty against animals be investigated with seriousness instead of indifference?

Can municipal governance become compassionate governance?

Can India become not merely a developed nation...

But a compassionate civilization once again?

~*~

Development is measured by highways.

Civilization is measured by kindness.

Economic growth builds taller buildings.

Compassion builds greater nations.

GDP can increase while humanity decreases.

That is not progress.

That is merely construction.

~*~

Prime Minister,

I do not seek reservations.

I do not seek subsidies.

I do not seek voting rights.

I seek the oldest right known to nature.

The right to exist without fear.

~*~

Perhaps one day...

A little child will ask his grandfather,

"Did people really throw stones at hungry dogs?"

And the grandfather will smile and reply,

"Yes, my child. But that was before India remembered that compassion was part of its civilization."

I hope that day arrives.

Until then...

I shall continue sleeping with one eye open.

Not because I distrust humanity.

Because humanity has repeatedly taught me to.

~*~

Final Thoughts: A Republic's Moral Examination

Every Budget allocates funds.

Every Parliament passes laws.

Every government announces schemes.

But none of these can substitute for one missing national virtue: ‘compassion.’

A civilization does not become great because it reaches the Moon.

It becomes great when even the ‘smallest creature’ on its streets ‘feels safe’ beneath its skies.

The true measure of India's rise will not be found only in its GDP, military strength, technological innovation, or global influence.

It will also be found in whether a hungry street dog can sleep through the night without fearing the next stone.

For when the weakest creature in the Republic begins to feel secure, only then can the Republic truly call itself civilized.

Who, then, is really asking for justice?

The dog?

Or India's forgotten conscience?