Nocturnal debates

`Appa, Appa, get up!', hissed someone by my bedside, even though it must have been almost impossible to do the hissing without the help of sibilants in the words hissed!  I was groggy, as one would be if one had  gone to sleep very late and obviously was not able to figure out who was addressing me with such filial affection in the dead of the night.  The hazy form in the not-even-diffused-light zone that our bed room is, did not betray too many clues to the identity of this intruder into my sleep.  I got up with a start, sputtering a jumble which was meant to convey the profound question `who is it?'; but due to the mixed feelings of surprise, a bit of fright and anxiety, served straight from the blender of half-sleep, my question did not come out right and the unknown intruder was not impressed at all by my delivery capabilities.  He (even in that highly unsteady state, my sleuthing skills had not deserted me and I could divine that it was a male, from the voice) vented his displeasure by yanking my arm and bringing me outside the bed room.  He said `amma is sleeping, let us not disturb her', as a helpful footnote.  Very considerate of this mysterious guy, I thought, who is chivalrous enough to want to leave `amma' undisturbed, even as he uses reasonable force to get me out of the same bed!!  In the living room, with some feeble light seeping through from the street, I could see a very familiar face looking at me with a mixture of irritation and impatience.  Oh my God, this looks like my son from the US, I thought.  Well, that was good enough to trigger memories of a chain of recent events, which began with the son's arrival late in the night and culminated in our going to bed inordinately later.  I came out of my somnolence with a shudder, realizing fully that he desired urgent conversation with me.

`How can you guys sleep so soundly when there is such pandemonium around?' was the question my son posed after he ascertained that I was no longer more half-wit than usual.  Now, you will agree this is very rich, being asked this when I had gone to sleep almost 5 hours behind schedule.   I almost flared up, but restrained myself when I remembered he must be jet-lagging.  But that still did not explain the pandemonium bit, because people in the community I lived are so decent that they never get verbal or vocal expressing their displeasure; they prefer the silent weapon of email; so I sought elucidation.  He said `listen to that....that babel of voices'.  I harked and then yes, I heard.  A chorus of about 286 dogs and half that number of puppies, barking their heads off.  I could even tell that a majority of the canine fraternity were females, from the way they barked (I don't care to explain that further; I am smarter than you think!).   `Oh, that.  We have had this accompaniment to our sleep for the past few months', I explained.   `Nowadays, I find it difficult to slide into slumber, if the yelping concert is not presented at the usual time; tonight it seems to be delayed'.  My son did not hide his disgust and gave me that look which suggested that I should have my head examined without further delay.  I sat him down and laboured into a patient explanation.

This huge vacant lot behind our house has, of late, become the daily conference venue for all stray dogs in the neighbourhood.  There are a few huts in the lot, in which some workers lived with their families, the total population being around 30 or so.   We always wondered how they could ignore all this nuisance created by these strays in their midst and go on with their lives, as if the significant intrusion did not exist.  But then, we knew, as a community, the difficulties in dealing with a single stray and appreciated their inability to deal with a battalion of the species.  Invariably, the nocturnal debate commences around 11.30 pm, just about the time I had come to the conclusion that I should draw the curtain on my rather busy-doing-nothing special-routine and hit the sack.  I can always hear the clarion call coming from what I visualise as a senior dog, with the pretty guttural voice.  Whether it is the time of the day that prompts this call or some other unseen event triggers it, I have so far not been privy to, because I refuse the invitation to get close enough to observe the process more minutely.  And whether the dogs are assembled already when the call pans out, signalling the commencement of the debate or it is just that - 'an all-hands-to-the-deck' kind of call to the registered members of the association.  Whichever it is, I strongly believe the strays have a more effective medium of communication than humans do; as you can see, their way completely eliminates complaints such as `I dont see our email more than twice a day, so get real!'. You see, dont you, that by going public with the first set of howls, the senior dog leaves absolutely no room for any lingering doubt in the minds of the public.  Even some people might be somewhat tempted to participate; the call is that effective.

Now the activity begins in right earnest.  Initially, there are intermittent barks, as if the delegates are exchanging pleasantries like `how was dinner?' and `oh, dont ask; some awful offering at Vista; I just cant imagine how PEOPLE can suffer through such food'.  This relatively harmless pow-wow goes on for a few minutes.  Then,  two or three more senior dogs let out relatively placid but extended barks, as if they are setting the topic for the day and the tone too. This marks a change in the intensity level of the proceedings.  The tone of the debate gets testy, there is an edge of nastiness to the exchanges and there is some animated, group discussion; the problem is this invariably resembles the daily durbar that Arnab Goswamy holds (Times Now 9pm), where between Arnab and one so-called expert, they do not even let the other experts say a few words edgeways.  The consequence is nobody can hear even a couple of words properly till everyone realizes that the end has arrived when Arnab,  with terminal finality, pronounces that all the time he had has been used by four people talking concurrently and he will now move on to the another similarly lively discussion in 2 minutes, please dont go away!!  Indeed, there are lulls in the canine debate also, as if some voiceover-less commercial is running there (I wish I could look at the scene and validate this, but the light does not help) and then you can tell that the next bunch of experts have joined Arnab, going by the sheer cacophony that follows for the next 15 minutes.  There is not much variation from now on, until at some point, the senior dog orchestrates the crescendo and everyone pitches in and if your imagination is vivid enough you can visualise some dog heads falling on the ground due to some serious barking and howling!!  Then, there is silence, as if someone has switched things off...all at once.  It is almost like the cricket games we have in our community, with people appealing for something or the other every ball towards the end, play being stopped after every single ball to count the runs scored, right from the first run, in order to reconcile the number for both the sides, a few more shouts and loud pronouncements and then there is the quiet breakfast, instead of just silence in this case.  Could it be that the strays are eating a late supper at the end??  This is when I drift off to sleep.

Despite my best efforts to play out the scenario as truthfully to the original as possible, my son was ostensibly unconvinced and barked to me (contextually, everything sounds like a bark at this time of the night to me) to listen carefully.  He was not talking about dogs.  When I paid some attention, I could hear some voices, yes, voices shrieking away.  Oh, this was some vicious fighting going on at the back, as if people wanted to compete with the dogs for attention.   Men, women, children, everyone had something to say and the common denominators were the anger in their voices and the very high decibal level employed.   `This is very distressing, son; we had made our best efforts to tell these worker folks living behind our house to sort our their differences at a reasonable hour and in an amicable way (that means not more than 50 blows exchanged during one session); but they just dont seem to understand that other people need to sleep.  Last week, we went across, called the whole group and told them to appoint a Management Committee to resolve issues and if required to mediate between groups.  We were told that they had managed to set up the committee and people were happy that things were going well.  I wonder what has changed all of a sudden that tonight they are back to their best bickering selves.  We will check tomorrow, now you go back to sleep or enjoy your jetlag or whatever', I said to my son and re-retired to my bed.

Next day, a few of our wise men went to the back-lot to talk to the workers and my son went along, at my invitation to see how wisdom and experience are best used in mediation.  We were told that some stray dogs 'belonging' to one group were stoned by another group last night due to the unscheduled howling session, leading to viscerally verbal volleys.  We asked what happened to the management committee route for resolutions.  One young guy told us `sir, yes, that would have probably worked normally.  But in this case, there was no chance'.  We asked `why?'; he said `the management committee itself was split vertically and the two groups were at each other's throats to signal the start of the fight, due to their allegiance to specific strays.  After that the rest of the residents split according to their preference and joined the fight. You did not tell us how such cases can be sorted out!!'.  The only sound I could hear was my son laughing away like a mad man, despite all the others glaring at him malevolently.

How, indeed, to solve such predicaments ??  We are still searching for answers....