I called it quits after my decade-long innings as a lecturer at a private engineering college following my retirement from the Air Force. By about half past four everyday, I would get ready to start my routine grind to a place free from the din and bustle of vehicular traffic. One of my walking friends, Dr Chandrasekhar Reddy, also a college professor who was put up close to the venue, would have already walked one lap around the vast barren quadrilateral field when I would join him.
Walking in tow with me, Chandru—as he was called in our circle of health-walkers—would start a hare on one of the current political issues. He would shoot the queries at me fitfully during the walk and I would either sidestep or reply in brevity since he was better than I am at political matters. We would be completing three laps around the sprawling field when Swamy, another regular companion, would pitch in.
During our walk, some dogs would follow us from afar. Glancing at them I would flick my fingers beckoning them to come to me. Chandru would overlook the sight of me playing with the dogs while Swamy would keep company with him. Stroking the dogs, I would be lagging behind my companions by a few steps, but soon stirring my stumps I would catch up with them.
Awfully scared of dogs, Swamy was inured to picking up a stone and pelting at them the moment he found one approaching him. My repeated advice to him to forbear harming the canines fell on his deaf ears.
On my way back home the stray canines that had parted company with me during my walk would follow me when I would get them biscuits or bun from a bakery nearby. But I would then shoo them away with bad grace though, since my two pet poms would be waiting tongues out for me at home.
One day, the place where we used to walk looked like a fair, surrounded by a crowd of people. But away from the entrance, where we were walking, the crowd was sparse. All of a sudden someone from behind picked Swamy’s pocket and started scarpering ahead of us. One of the dogs that used to follow us chased the cutpurse who got scared, tripped on a stone and fell down. We caught him by the collar and slugs rained on him from the people around. Pleased no end, Swamy who got his purse back, tumbled to the belief that dogs are faithful animals. Love and affection supplanted the rancour he had been nurturing in him all along.