How About An Act Of Dog?
Depends on which. Local dog? Or vocal dog? Biting dog? Or barking dog? Or dogs that are capable of both? Local dogs that are also vocal dogs? You’d know these. If you grace the nights long enough, you’d know. They do not allow the nights to be nights any more. If you live where most of us live, you’d know. They do not let you live as you would any more. They are local. Nothing you can do about that. They are vocal. Nothing you can do about that. They represent, well, ActsOfDog; nothing can be done about such things. Or little. Try someday. But don’t blame me for inspiring you. Statutory Warning: The risk is all your own, bark or bite or consequence.
But there are more kinds than just those that bark or bite or do both. Now tell me about them. Ha! You know what I am talking about. No?
I shall explain. There are dogs and there are dogs. Try calling a dog “kutta” or “kukur”. Try screaming: “Kuttayyyyy!”
Now tell me. Go on, pat your favoured canine, let him, or her, have a lavish lick where he or she would prefer to lick, pull him or her into your lap or couch or bed, snuggle up, canoodle as you never canoodled, and tell me.
How does “kuttayyyy!” sound? Or “kukur”?
Don’t be offended, that is not the intention. We don’t intend to offend love. Love what you will. But tell me how that sounds. We are not on your favoured nouns, those lovely, esoteric, or desi names you chose to bestow on your loved ones. Tommy, oh what am I saying, whoever calls them Tommy anymore? Rum? Goonda? Doshi? Bindiya? Khukri? Katari? Whiskey? Rani? Chaaku? Panjaa? Claw? Bhookha? Daaku? Peg?
But we are not on them, not on your darlings that you smooch and brush and shampoo and powder and cuddle and feed and disinfect and de-odour more than you did any living being around you ever in your life. It’s your thing, hai naa, your pet, your slave, your beholden one, creature of your command, sit, squat, go, fetch, no, yaaaaees, good dog, bad dog. Yours. Owned. Mine. Without signing onto or off anything; I mean you never have to worry about, you know, claims etcetera of the legal or illegal kind, and you still have a relationship. Me. My dog. My love. Now take me to court over it. If there is a bark, or a bite, you’ve deserved it. ActOfDog. Can’t blame the dog. Like you can’t blame an ActOfGod on the god, whichever your chosen one is. Like that.
But we return to the question.
How does “kuttayyyy!” sound? Or “kukur”? Or plain “kutttaaa”? Think. “Kuttayyyyy, main tera khoon pee jaaooonga!” Or, “Kutta kahin kaa, ek number kaa kuttaaa hai!” Or, “Kukur to, aar kee?” How does it sound? Somewhat like an expletive in the language employed here and its translation into desi, does it not? Imagine a... well just let that be, there may be children trying to read this paper, or at least we hope so, we need them to have a good education as they grow up, don’t we?
Just roll all or some of that discreetly in your head, your frequent and favoured abuses, and translate them into your native and tell me. Tell me, then, about dogs and kuttas. At the end of the day, they are pretty much the same, well-groomed Ghungroo and street-corner pie, when they come to barking or biting. They are dogs.
Or they are... no we shall not utter or print that word. Of course not. But you know. Those that beget more dogs. Mother dogs. One bit me. And she barked before she bit. I carry on my person an indelible ActOfDog. Never mind.
Where the origin of this lay
Was not in local pedigree
Oh how I’d wish to agree
If it hadn’t begun with pillay.