Pali was not a dog!
Pali was a Boxer; we would go for our morning walks together. He was very sensible: he wouldn’t let anyone come near me. After we returned, when I sat on the balcony with my tea, his bowl would be put there as well – and he would have the same biscuits that I had. If, by any chance, he was served different ones, the displeasure would show clearly in his eyes.
“Who do these servants think I am?”
And he wouldn’t eat.
When I went into the office room for the day’s work, he would come there as well, like clockwork; he would settle himself on a durrie close to me. In the evening, we would shut the office and go back together.
Pali was a friend, a companion, and many more things besides…
But whatever he was, Pali was not a “dog”.
A poem about Pali
There was a problem:
How was I going to call Pali now?
My friend Partipal, Pali and me
The three of us were sitting in the drawing room.
What if I said “Pali” and Partipal replied?
“When did you get a dog?” Partipal asked.
Pali looked at me sideways.
I never call Pali a dog
(Though when I’m angry with him I might sometimes call him an ass).
I said, “He was very small when he came –
I mean, when I brought him home.
He would fit in my palm –
I could put him in my pocket.”
I was afraid that Pali might interrupt me with a bark at any time.
Partipal said, “Dogs are known for their loyalty.
There is no animal that is as loyal as a dog.”
“What about you, aren’t you loyal?” I could hear Pali mutter.
“I think there’s no more loyal servant than a human…”
“But why do dogs bark when they see another dog?” Partipal asked.
“That’s their language, yaar,” I said.
“What else – are they going to speak Urdu? Leave it.”
But Partipal’s needle was still stuck in the same place:
”Why do they say it’s a ‘dog eat dog world’?”
Pali looked like he might answer: “And men are their own worst enemy.”
Partipal went on:
“It’s very difficult to take fourteen injections, if a dog bites you.”
Pali muttered under his breath:
“And if you bit me? I would die – probably of shame!”
I was getting a bit agitated by now –
And that is something Pali can always smell out—
He brushed his tail briefly against me, and winked
As if to say, “Take it easy.”
Finally Partipal got up to go. He laughed and said:
“The dog doesn’t say much. Looks like he’s taken after you.
What have you named him?”
I took a deep breath and said:
“Partipal. But we lovingly call him Pali.”
This poem was translated from the Hindi by Udayan Mitra.
Excerpted with permission from The Book of Dog: An Anthology Celebrating Our Beloved Best Friends, edited Hemali Sodhi, HarperCollins India.
