B&W: Our Street’s Lone Ranger

Our street has a lone dog—a black dog with white patches. He is not attached to any particular house, but he has a soft corner in his heart for our street's iron wallah, under whose improvised ironing berth he likes to have his morning nap. After 11:00 PM, this "Lone Ranger" won't allow any stranger to set foot in our street. He simply has to stand before any of the fifteen houses on our street and—much like Maadhu (Nagesh) in Balachander’s movie Yethir Neechal—he will be fed by willing hands.

Four years ago, when we moved in, he came up to our gate and introduced himself with his liquid, eloquent eyes and a wagging, welcoming tail.

"He is the only dog on our street. He is a bachelor Nai (dog in Tamil)—sorry, boy. He eats breakfast at one house, lunch at another house, and dinner at yet another house," said the house owner."Does he have a name?" I asked."The iron wallah calls him Mani," he replied.

In Tamil Nadu, more dogs are given the name Mani than humans; I don't know why. However, I did not like that name. I chose to call him B&W (Black and White).

B&W's best friend, our street's iron wallah Muthu, will not take his lunch without offering a handful to him. B&W equally loves the curd rice from the Iyengar family opposite our house and the fish curry from our Keralite neighbors. My brother started offering him cream biscuits, which he simply relished.

He is a dutiful night watchman who remains wide awake throughout the night. Sometimes, he seems to bark at objects or people not visible to us; Muthu is sure that B&W can see spirits.

Trials and Triumphs

One day last year, dog catchers from the Corporation came, caught him, threw him into their van, and drove away. Muthu went in hot pursuit on his cycle, successfully rescued him, and brought him back to our street within an hour of his abduction. We heaved a sigh of relief when we saw Muthu riding down the street with B&W seated on the crossbar like a child.

When it rained cats, dogs, and cars during the 2015 monsoon, B&W—the handsome dog—became a lithesome cat. He climbed onto the roof of a half-submerged luxury car (which happened to be a BMW) and remained there until Muthu rescued him.

"B&W on a BMW," my brother commented.

The owner of the luxury car was more worried about the scratches B&W’s coarse claws might leave on his vehicle’s glossy roof than the water entering the car's bonnet.

A Final Farewell

In May 2018, my brother Satya—a thick friend of B&W—passed away suddenly in Vrindavan during a visit to the holy place. B&W visibly missed him. After my brother’s departure, we lost interest in Chennai and decided to move once and for all to Vrindavan.

On the day we vacated, B&W came to see us, just as he did when we moved in four years prior. This time, he did not wag his tail. Perhaps it had turned heavy with sadness upon seeing us leave.