The size of the fight in the dog

Animals have always featured prominently in Indian culture and mythology, and have added immensely to their richness and mystique. Garuda is the loyal friend of Vishnu, the peacock is the vehicle for Kartikeya, the lion is Durga mata's fearless steed, the elegant swan is the vehicle of Brahma and Saraswati, the snake adorns Shiva's neck and Nandi the bull is his constant companion, the white elephant is the companion of Indra, the god Ganesha is half-human and half-elephant, the demon killed by Durga came in the form of a buffalo.

Even man's best friend, the dog, is worshipped in parts of Sikkim and north Bengal, it is the mount of fearsome gods like Kalabhairava, and we are told that four fierce dogs guard the abode of Yama, the Hindu god of death.

You could be forgiven for thinking that our scriptures have more animals than most of our national parks and wildlife sanctuaries, but let's leave that little critique for another time.

So why am I sputtering on about animals, like a loquacious cicada? Because, dear reader, animals continue to dominate the Indian landscape even today, and play an important part in our polity and public life. They grab our attention like the WWE wrestler grabs his opponent by his round and bouncing organ, which thereafter bounces no more, to paraphrase the refrain from Edgar Allen Poe's poem, The Raven. Let me explain.

Our public life is full of animals, and I'm not referring to the type who get elected but to the genuine ones. How can one forget gau mata, or the Jallikattu bull, or Azam Khan's missing buffaloes for which Interpol had to issue a red corner notice, until it was discovered that they had actually joined the BJP to save their skin, literally? Or Rahul Gandhi's pet pooch Piddi, who provided the alibi for Mr Himanta Biswa Sarma of Assam to join the BJP and become chief minister?

In times bygone, the English king Richard III had shouted, "A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!" which the wily Biswa Sarma converted to: "A kingdom, a kingdom, a dog for a kingdom!" He got his kingdom and Rahul got the doghouse.

Then again, there was that incident about Delhi AAP leader Somnath Bharti and his Labrador. His wife (Bharti's, not the dog's) alleged that he used to order the dog to bite her and lodged a police complaint. The poor Lab was taken to the police station and, in order to test him, was ordered to bite a constable. Being a canny canine of good taste, the doggie refused, the case against Bharti collapsed, but he has not been seen in the AAP kennel since then.

Readers will also recollect that incident involving the IAS couple, the Khirwars, in Delhi last year. They had taken their dog for a walk in a stadium, which the government felt had reduced our medal tally in the Asian Games by at least half a dozen. Consequently, they were asked to take a longer walk, to Ladakh in one case and to the north-east in the other.

I learn that now, IAS officers have stopped taking an amble with their pooches, it is too dangerous. They now take their wives for a walk; no marks for guessing who's holding the leash on these jaunts. All because a fastidious canine insisted on peeing on astro turf rather than genuine grass.

Given the central role that dogs have been playing in Indian politics in amrit kaal of late, therefore, it is no surprise that the Mahua Moitra brouhaha also has a dog as its prime mover, a Rottweiler named Henry, presumably after the English king who had a very innovative method for resolving his wives' headaches.

Now, I don't know why she named him Henry — she probably had a good history 'tudor' in school. Be that as it may, Henry is the undoubted kingpin in this whole affair; not only is his custody the casus belli in this case, he is also the insider who knows everything — whether Mr Dehadrai is just an ex-lover or a jilted lover, who did the jilting, who visited Ms Moitra, who she spoke to on the phone, the type of gifts received by her, etc.

The ethics committee of Parliament, intent on peeping through the keyhole rather than looking at the larger picture, definitely missed a trick or two by not examining Henry under oath or getting his statement recorded under section 164 of the CrPC. I believe the police did ask him a few questions but, having spent time with a lawyer and a Parliamentarian. he was well aware of his rights, and took the Fifth Amendment and also quoted the law against self incrimination.

Brain mapping and a narco test were suggested, but Henry insisted that a similar test be carried out on Mr Nishikant Dubey, the complainant MP. This time, it was the latter who refused, fearful of what the tests might reveal about the state of his brain. The last time such a test was carried out on a politician, it revealed no brain at all, just a bank passbook and a doctored printout from an EVM. 

The last chapter in this drama has not yet been written, and we can expect the curtain to rise again when Parliament reconvenes in December. Meanwhile, the Royal Bengal tigress in West Bengal has also joined the battle and has divested Mr Adani of the Rs 25,000 crore port project allotted to him earlier.

It's all hands on deck now. The government has thrown all its might against the diminutive lady from Bengal but will soon find out who the real Rottweiler is. One can't help but recollect the words of Mark Twain: "It's not about the size of the dog in the fight but about the size of the fight in the dog."

Avay Shukla is a retired IAS officer and author of The Deputy Commissioner’s Dog and Other Colleagues. He blogs at avayshukla.blogspot.com