By Naba Bhattacharjee
An eerie shrill broke my slumber on a cold winter morning to-day – a little past midnight. It took some time to comprehend the source, which initially sounded like a human wail, turned out to be the cry of a dog in intense pain. The scream grew louder and soon resonated through the quietness of the early morning like a deafening noise striking with brutality. It did not take long to decipher that the growing phenomenon of dog hunting in our locality was in process. This exercise is a well known and established phenomenon in Shillong since last few years. However, to witness the whole inhuman orgy of cruelty bereft of any feeling or emotion was a heart wrenching experience.
The setting was akin to a journey into the old Hollywood western classics. The modus operandi had reminiscences of such movies, as the armoury for the gruesome mass murder included slings packed with stones at the striking end, lasso being swung in the style and demeanour resembling that of “Cowboy” John Wayne, breaking in wild horses. The short spear, stick, machete and the euphoria bore resemblance to the rejoicing of “Red Indians” after overpowering a prey – humans included. The mix of jute and cement bags to suffocate and carry the lifeless body was the reality of the present. The visage of a western classic ended here since the area of operation was an urban locale of Shillong, the one sided onslaught not a Cowboy – Red Indian duel and the hunted were the harmless unarmed dogs of the area.
By this time the wail had turned into a chorus of weeping and squeal punctuated at regular intervals by a momentary silence of a moan gone still with life bludgeoned out with a final blow on the head of man’s most loyal and faithful companion for centuries. It was evident that the “operation” was fast spreading to other areas of the locality. Fear of falling prey to this genocide coupled with anxiety regarding companions and alerting them were all plausible reasons for the cry of this sensitive and intelligent animal to reach a crescendo. Scores of dogs must have fallen prey by break of dawn to the gastronomic desires of man. I turned back when my pleading to stop the massacre was drowned in the din except the scream of the pregnant mother dog which was basking in the sun near my house in the morning, slowly falling silent together with the litter. Such ghastly act brings to fore the worst form of animal instinct still active in man and establishes a section of his breed to be extremely irrational rather than being a rational animal.