If Dogs were on Facebook

I wonder how the social network would be if dogs could chat. Would they use more smileys or words? Would they ever go offline? What would their newsfeed look like? Pictures of bones and dirt. Chew toys and torn rugs. Embarrassing photos of their humans. Animated selfies, where you could never see their whole face. Because they would be too excited to take a proper selfie. And certainly no Instagrammable food. Because a dog wouldn't take photos of its food. It would gobble it up, because that's the sensible thing to do. Do you realise Mark, where you should diversify instead of trying to shove Free Basics down people's throats? But I digress.

Mean

"You are mean", the dog whimpered.
"What did I do?" I asked, surprised.
"You said, 'oh what a cute pig', when I fell into the mud".
Snorting on my laughter, I offered helpfully, "Umm.. that was a compliment.."
"So mean."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be mean. It's just, I don't have a filter."
"You are injurious to health."

The Intruder in the House

As Susan ran into the bedroom searching for some sort of weapon, the intruder tenaciously followed.

Desperate, she grabbed the first bottle she could find and sprayed on him with full force. The intruder fell on his back, legs up, trying hard to get up.

But Susan did not stop. She kept on spraying till the bottle was nearly empty. Finally she sat down on the bed with a thud. Beside her feet, lay the body of the curious roach.

Squirrelling Love

Wow, she's really tall, he thought as he stood in front of her, holding a bunch of wildflowers.
"Umm...", he began to speak but only a squeak came out.
The camel looked right through him, making his heart squirrel.
If only she knew he wanted to share his nuts with her.

Pigtail

'You look beautiful', he whispered softly as he helped her to the chair.
Their first date. She blushed.
Settling down, he asked, 'So, what would you like to order? I hear the pork belly is awesome'.
She flinched a little.
'Just a..a salad please.'
'As you wish', he smiled as he motioned for the waiter.
'You know.. Your hair looks lovely, I bet you would look gorgeous with pigtails'. Women liked his candour. Or so he thought.
But she went pale.
'Ex..excuse me...', she rushed up from her chair and dashed towards the ladies' room, leaving him wondering if he had been too forward.

Inside the spotless white washroom, she stared at the mirror. Did he know? How could he know? No it was impossible. She had taken every precaution.

Instinctively, her hands began tracing the outline of her satin silk gown. The smooth neckline, the flawless waist, the perfect hips. Her hands rested.

Inside, lurked the faintest trace of a bushy pig tail. Of course, the dress hid it well. But she could never be completely sure.
She stared at the mirror, ashamed, sweating like a pig.

Out in the restaurant, he waited. Finally convinced that his forwardness had put her off, he left.
Inside, the ladies' washroom grunted in agony.

Monkeying Around

Emergency has been declared in my PG. The doors and windows have been tightly shut; the valuables safely tucked away. Solemn Nepali faces stand huddled together outside, determined to protect the building and its inhabitants. As the impending doom draws near, everyone waits with bated breath.

It's time. The monkeys have arrived.

The Camel that spoke like Robert De Niro

The Meeting 

As I trudged along the tormented path overwhelmed with briefs, a stoic smiling face caught my gaze.

'If this bothers you sweetheart, just imagine being burdened by idiots all day', said the pet camel at the Bikanervala restaurant, in a curious Robert De Niro voice.

'Why yes, Mr. Camel, I don't know how you do it. Why not just kick them?' I looked at those wide-set pair of eyes, serene, always smiling. He was chewing the end of a Cuban cigarette.

'Gotta pay the bills sweetheart, everyone's gotta pay the bills', he said, his voice hoarse, his chewing incessant.

Right then, a potbellied Sardarji with two gleeful children stopped in front of him. 'Well, that's me', Mr. Camel wrapped up the conversation, as he threw the end of his cigarette in the cold February air, wiped his mouth with polished hooves and gave a million dollar smile, that dazzled with a set of perfect white teeth.

'You'd look better with a hat, Mr. De Niro', I thought as I walked back home, contemplating the burdens of mankind.

The Observation

There is an open parking lot below my office. On lazy afternoons, Mr. Camel lies there, by the shade of a few inconspicuous trees. Chewing and gazing at the direction of the pet horse nearby. Always smiling. I have often wondered whether he is enlightened or just psychotic. May be there isn't much of a difference between the two.

Today as a couple got on him, and he lazily strolled across the parking lot of indifferent cars, a driver began playing 'Tamanchey pe Disco'. Suddenly, Mr. Camel neighed. And as the lone horse in the distance looked up in confusion, he jumped up with two hooves in the air, shaking his hump to the beat of the song.

The couple sat petrified while the mahout ran screaming.
But neither the obligation of the job, nor the yelling of his boss could stop Mr. Camel anymore.
He was finally free.
Or was he?

Tough Life

Life must be tough for pigs. Imagine wetting your nose every time you try to drink water.

The Chirp

I tried to call out to her but with the straw sticking out of my mouth, only a muffled sound came out. Where was she? I saw an eagle flying in the distance. Wings outstretched, it spiralled round and round, reminding me of the poem by Mr. Yeats. 'Darling, can you hear me?' I finally chirped aloud, causing to drop the straw. Oh boy, the nest will just have to wait, I mused as I flew to a nearby pole.

Running Rat

Eventually, the rat got tired of running. Panting, he sat down and began wiping his face with a moist cloth.

'So, you got something for me yet, lady?' The poor rodent squeaked at me.

Looking up from the Book of Idioms, I replied quietly, 'Rug rat, rat race...rats abandoning a sinking ship....nah..nothing, sorry'. 

'Your fault. Why is it that 'rats running in a stomach' sounds perfectly fine in the vernaculars but so odd in English?'

'Why indeed?' I thought to myself.

'And you...you agreed to write it in English..why couldn't you put up the status in some vernacular language, where it is perfectly fine to have innocent rats run up and down the length of your stomach?'

'Umm... My readers are from an extensive language base...' I said importantly.

'Why should us rats suffer for the limitations of English'? He squealed.

'You are right....' I was hungry and Mr. Rat was tired of running in my stomach. We shared nibbles of my last cream biscuits and quietly wondered on the dilemma of transcreating idioms in a foreign language.

On Occasion

As I stand lazily soaking in the winter sun, I see a monkey in the distant roof, doing the same. A closer inspection reveals a Ma monkey followed by one-two baby monkeys, with another monkey chilling in someone's balcony. 'Hee...bador bador', I gleefully observe. The Ma monkey then climbs down the grill, just like Spiderman. The young ones follow suit to join their Chacha (I'm guessing) in the neighbouring balcony.

Still giggling, I come down the stairs to find a wolf strolling about, in the guise of a dog. It seems to have enough fur to shield the neighbourhood for the winter. I share biscuits with the dumb blackie but those 5 biscuits vanish before hitting the floor. Finding I have no more biscuits to offer, it now decides to settle for the next best thing.

It begins to wag its bushy tail, I pat it a little. Two pats, and the wolf seeks to climb till my shoulder, like a chipku guy. 'Durey thako, durey thako', I order the wolf which probably weighs more than me. It calms down but still keeps on looking through the iron grills long after I have closed the gate.

I go back to shoot the monkeys on the roof but they have long since vanished. So I shoot the next best thing: Myself.

Gurgaon is a chiriyakhana. I like it.