The Pekingese in 301

Love at first sight. I’m sure that’s what Tim thought. Barely spent three days in Mumbai and he was already lusting after a gal. He always did this. Dude could never exercise restraint. He’d never listen to me. There were times when I would have to physically pull him back. Although, to his credit, this one was quite a cute specimen. A long-golden-haired Pekingese. But that doesn’t discount the fact that now I had to catch up to a sprinting Mastiff while apologising to the onlookers that he shoved past.

At the time, I couldn’t have known that Tim had inadvertently set into motion a most singular set of events. Perhaps, the strangest few days of my life. The first indication of this came ten minutes later, when I reached the end of the promenade, huffing and puffing. Tim was doing everything in his power to woo the Pekingese, but she couldn’t be bothered. She kept a distance from him, haughtily keeping her gaze averted. I would have burst out laughing had I not been distracted by the person holding the leash. That was when I had my own “Tim” moment. I kid you not, it looked like some angel had descended upon earth. Her long blonde hair would have given her dog a run for its money. Her gentle shooing away of Tim, with those slender fingers, taught me the meaning of grace. The ocean in her eyes turned my way and I wished I could seek refuge in them. Her cherry lips moved, shedding a glimpse of her pearly whites, but I heard nothing. The crashing waves enveloped me, body, mind, and soul.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Are we getting 101 Dalmatians here? I wish. I rue the day I met that witch. Everything I said above was a mere illusion, I had been ensnared in her enchantments. But it was all dispelled the moment her potty-mouth reached my ears and I saw her kick at Tim. That’s right, she kicked him!

“Get this filthy piece of shit away from me,” she screamed, along with some filthier words that I choose to omit, as she shoved poor Tim away with her feet.

A litany of profanity flashed through my mind as I pulled Tim away and it took every ounce of restraint on my part to not hurl them at her. All I could muster was a “Don’t touch my dog” to which she promptly replied, “You think I want to touch that thing?” She looked at me with disdain, adopting a manner reminiscent of what her dog had exhibited towards Tim. After staring at me for an awkward minute, she sauntered off in a huff.

Tim looked up at me with sad, droopy eyes. “It’s your own fault you numbskull,” I muttered as I led him away.

***

If you’ve never been to Mumbai before, it can be a lot to take in. A veritable assault on the senses. There’s too much going on all the time. There’s not a spot in the city that you won’t find teeming with people, and the sounds of traffic reverberate from every direction. For those who’ve spent years in the place, all this was just routine, but to someone like me, freshly moved to take up a new job, it just felt claustrophobic. Add to that a tiny living space on the first floor - it would be an injustice to term this cramped area an apartment - that I paid a gulp-inducing rent for, and all I wanted to do was shut shop and run home to mommy. But I wasn’t going to give in that easily.

The job itself was inane. I will not bore you with the specifics of it. Suffice it to say, I got in and out at reasonable times, worked under a reasonable boss, and was paid a reasonable amount with no unreasonable delays. Two weeks later, when I’d just about begun to get used to the pace of the city, I saw her again. And you won’t believe where I saw her. There she was, opening the door to the apartment that faced mine, leading her Pekingese in. Good old Ms. I-hate-your-dog was my neighbour. I was so surprised by this finding, that I didn’t register the incoming patter of feet behind me. His excitement was so forceful, that he shoved me aside and ran straight towards the woman across the hallway. She screamed and shut the door with a bang, an action that occurred too late for Tim to decelerate. The impact was loud. Poor Tim lay prostrate on the ground as I consoled him. He was too heavy for me to lift, so I waited until his strength returned.

At length, he brought himself to his feet and was limping his way back to our flat when the door opened. She kept it just a few inches ajar and craned her head out to leer at me.

“Why are you still here?” she hissed.

“What’s the rush? We’ll leave when we have to,” I shot back.

“Are you stalking me? Don’t think I’m afraid of you. I won’t hesitate to call the cops…”

“Calm down, I’m not stalking you. I live across the hall.”

“You live in 302?” she said, anger being replaced by something else. Was it dread?

“Yeah. And believe me, if I knew you lived here, I would never have taken the place.”

She stayed silent. It looked like she was trying to come to a decision. Then she said, “Look I don’t want any trouble. Just stay out of my path and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“Trouble?” I asked. “What kind of trouble are you expecting?”

“Just stay away, okay? And put a leash on that stupid dog of yours,” she said and slammed her door again.

***

The next few weeks were difficult. Whenever I caught sight of the witch, be it at our doors, in the lobby, or even at the promenade, I turned the other way. She, on the other hand, never hesitated to flash her middle finger or mouth some curses. But what was worse was her behaviour towards Tim. There were occasions when he would suddenly lurch at her dog when they walked past us, and while I always had my wits about me, dragging him back, she would try her best to aim a kick in his direction. My resolve to remain non-violent became weak during those days, and I couldn’t help but enter into shouting matches with her. Had it not been for the frequent and timely interventions of certain Samaritans, I’m sure we would have come to blows. Things were reaching a boiling point, and I was dreading the day it would all blow up. Turns out, it wasn’t far off.

It was a warm September night. I’d spent most of it clubbing with my newly acquired friends and was now trying to sleep. But the damn thing eluded me. I lay in bed, soaked in liquor but with eyes wide open. Tired of being tired, I rose out of bed and walked to the pathetic excuse I had for a balcony. I let the smog-infused sea-scented breeze waft over me and looked out at the street below.

There was a van parked across the street. It was stationed just outside the reach of the street light, its outline barely visible. While, there was nothing unusual about a random vehicle being parked on a street, what was odd was that the van was shaking, convulsing, on its four wheels. It looked almost like it was traversing an invisible rocky terrain while being stationary. I watched this play out for a minute, and then it halted abruptly. The rear door swung wide open and out stepped two people. They were mere shadows but I could tell that one was a woman and the other a man. After conversing for a bit, the man entered the vehicle and drove off, while the woman made her way to our apartment complex. She stepped past an illuminated area by the gate, and for the briefest of moments I caught a glimpse of her hair. There was no doubt, it was the witch.

As I said before, any inkling of attraction I felt towards the woman, was vaporised the moment she assaulted my dog. And who was I to judge someone for engaging in midnight trysts with a stranger, in the back of a fishy van. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something decidedly odd about the affair. She could very easily have invited the guy to her room, it’s not like she lived with someone else or that someone was snooping on her. I see the irony in that statement but that’s exactly my point. Either way, my curiosity was aroused. So when the witch finally made it up the stairs and walked into her apartment, little did she know, there was a drunk man watching every move of hers from the peephole in his room.

As cool as that sounds, not a lot came of it. The next morning, I found myself on the floor having slept at an awkward angle and sprained my back. Grunting with every step and also fighting a blasting headache, I managed to make my way to my bedroom. I had to report to work, but I just didn’t have the energy for it. Clutching my back, I fell onto the bed, when I heard a yelp. “Shoo, Tim,” I mumbled. Then my eyes widened. The sound had been too high-pitched to be Tim’s. I looked up and found myself face-to-face with a tiny set of eyes peering out through a shock of golden hair. I jumped up and yelped myself, while massaging my back. It was the Pekingese. The damn thing was on my bed and sitting next to her was Tim, grinning wider than I’d ever seen before.

“What the hell do you both think you’re doing?” I groaned. They gave me a vacant look before Tim turned to his side and started licking the side of her head. “No no no,” I said. “Stop touching her. You’re not supposed to touch her.” But he just ignored me, the rascal. “And you,” I continued pointing at her, “I’m going right now to fetch your mistress. Don’t you dare move from there.”

I trundled my way to the door and swung it open, only to have a pair of knuckles rapping on my forehead. It was the witch. But she wasn’t alone. A seven foot hulking piece of flesh and hair stood beside her, looking down at me. Neither of them was sporting a pleasant expression. “Now,” I said, holding my nerve. “I know why you’re here. I don’t know how she got inside, but I had no role in it. Please take her back.”

As a reply, I was brushed aside by the pair who walked in and started ransacking the place. “Hey,” I called, quite miffed by then, “She’s in the bedroom.” Again, neither acknowledged me. But they walked right into the room and a series of yelps and barks ensued. I hurried in and found a scene that felt straight out of the Tom & Jerry show. The Pekingese was busy scampering across the floor while the witch ran after her, trying to trap the thing. The hunk, on the other hand, was busy fending off Tim who was trying to bite his leg off.

“What the hell is going on?” I shouted, but again, nobody bothered to grace me with a reply.

I was about to shout again, when I heard another knock. That stopped everyone in their tracks. A second knock followed and then a third one. I glared at the occupants of my room and hobbled my way back to the door. The knocks had become impatient by then and I swung the door open only to find, for the second time that day, a pair of knuckles rapping on my forehead. By this point, my fuse was about to blow, but I simmered down when I saw the uniform the visitor was wearing. The officer and his bushy moustache both apologised to me for playing my face like an instrument, and requested to come in.

Once inside, the man turned to me and got straight to the point, “We’ve received reports of a loose Pekingese spotted in this neighbourhood. Someone said they saw it jumping onto your balcony. Do you have this dog in your apartment?”

I was confused. “I do,” I said. “But why are you searching for this dog?”

“Because it’s kidnapped,” said the man. “And if you indeed have this dog, then I’ll probably have to arrest you.”

Before I could respond to this wild accusation, shouts and barks echoed behind me. I spun around and saw a line of creatures running down my hall. It was the Pekingese followed by the witch followed by the hunk who was trailed by that dumb idiot Tim. Each one swerved and hurtled out the balcony, leaving destruction in their wake.

“I’m not the expert, but I don’t think I’m your man, Inspector,” I said.

I was in no condition to hurl myself out the balcony and the Inspector didn’t seem too keen on the prospect either. Luckily, for him, he’d brought reinforcements. The events that ensued couldn’t have been scripted. The dog-human train I described earlier was running circles on the street with two constables added to the tail. The circus continued for a minute before the Pekingese, quite smartly, jumped into the police vehicle parked by the gate. It was only then that the witch and the hunk realised that the game was up and giving up their quarry, scampered away. The van was parked close by and they were about to make off when my heroic Tim jumped in through the window and dug his teeth into the man’s arm. A loud bellow echoed down the street and brought a lot of heads on to the balconies around us. He wrenched his arm away and pushed my dog out, but Tim had done enough to buy the constables time. They were upon the vehicle like hawks and the two culprits were apprehended.

I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I were to state that the events of that day left me completely bewildered. But whatever I felt at that moment was nothing compared to my reaction when the rear doors to the van were opened. Stacked along the walls of the van were rows of cages, each holding its own little Pekingese. There must have been at least twenty of them. Each looked asleep, sedated perhaps. Seeing them in that sorry state reminded me of poor heroic Tim and I whistled for him. He promptly appeared by my side, unfazed by his adventure, and sporting the expression of a detective who’d successfully cracked a case.

A few hours later, I was asked to present myself at the police station to share a statement. The inspector was kind enough to fill me in on the details of the case. Good old Tim had inadvertently, or intentionally (wouldn’t put it past him), aided in the capture of a smuggling ring that had been terrorising the city for the past few weeks. Initially dismissed as a coincidence, it was only when a local millionaire’s pet, or rather his daughter’s pet, was kidnapped that the police were spurred to action and launched a detailed investigation.

Chuckling at the absurdity of the situation, I was making my way when I felt someone walk past me. Her deep-blue eyes could have absorbed the entire universe in their depths. Her long blonde hair fell with ringlets, heavenly creepers that bore the fruit of Eden, around her radiant cheeks which were sharp enough to cut through skin. Her plush skin…. Was it her again? I turned around, it was someone else. Averting my gaze from this goddess, I made my way home, still nursing my back, but all-in-all unburdened.

It was a week later that I found myself back on the promenade, out for a morning walk with Tim. We’d barely been there five minutes when the dumb creature bolted. I couldn’t tell which new damsel had caught his fancy, but I felt queasy in my stomach. I sprinted after him, ignoring the many pedestrians I shoved aside - I was more desperate to stop him. But when I finally caught up to him, I was faced with another bizarre sight. He was busy courting a little Pekingese, and surprisingly, she was responding in kind. And it wasn’t just her, but her owner as well who was kneeling on the ground and scratching his neck.

I recognised her, it was the goddess from the station. She looked up at me and smiled. “You’re the guy who saved my Princess from those smugglers. The Inspector told me all about you and your dog over here. What’s his name?”

“Tim,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“And yours?”

“R-Raj.”

She stood up and extended a hand. “Priya. I owe you a treat for everything you and Tim did. Coffee?”

Tim wagged his tail and nudged me. I grasped her hand and smiled. Perhaps it won’t be so bad this time.