Last week as Delhi was shivering due to its usual winter cold wave, a ragpicker who used to spend her meagre earnings on feeding and looking after street dogs on the pavement of a market in an upscale south Delhi residential area was turfed out by municipal corporation officials. Ever since she migrated from Bengal decades ago, she had devoted herself to dogs, with the help of some donations from kindred souls who shared her generous spirit.

Her empathy has always been a welcome contrast to endless flow of depressing news stories of either unspeakable, extreme cruelty to dogs (including the recent hanging of two pups) or repeated allegations that street dogs and also some pet ones posed a threat to humans – invariably attacking without provocation-and should be put down. Even the courts have veered widely in their pronouncements on the issue of dogs ‘versus’ humans.

How can a woman with no possessions or property find peace and companionship with the same species that is posited to have a malevolent intent by people who have both possessions and property? Do the furry creatures have some mysterious dogma that pits them against some people and not against others? Are dogs another kind of urban naxals who are out to decimate the ranks of the bourgeoisie and establish the rule of a new canine proletariat?

When the very first humans and dogs hunted for food while avoiding becoming food sources themselves, sought warmth and shelter from the elements, procreated and raised their young in a potentially hostile environment, both species instinctively drew together. A bond of understanding and trust was forged long before cities and wealth, before religion and territory, and before humans acquired the trappings of what we call civilisation.

There are many things that set our-Indian-civilisation apart from others; or at least that is what we declare. One of them is the ancient adage ‘Vasudhaiva kutumbakam’ which is translated to mean ‘the world is family’. And that most certainly includes living beings besides just humans. So then why is it that Indians who do not disagree with this lofty universal family idea also decide that some creatures-like stray dogs-are beyond the pale?

No one will admit approving of cruelty to animals, but so-called civilised people increasingly display no compunction declaring war on street dogs, opposing their being fed, vaccinated and provided shelters near where they themselves reside. To think that 23,000 years ago, our “uncivilised” ancestors saw qualities in canines that are even reflected in the Mahabharata which speaks of Yudhisthir’s dog who possessed virtues the other four Pandavas did not.

Some dogs, of course, can be dangerous and vicious-as indeed more than a few humans are too. Yet no one advocates the outright extermination of all humans of a certain type-say, itinerant or homeless-simply because a few such individuals are criminals. But that ridiculous principle is sought to be applied to all street dogs for the deeds of some, that too without ascertaining what makes those dogs turn rogue and take those culprits to task.
The thought comes to mind that if the place on the pavement occupied by that ragpicker and her street dogs had instead been encroached upon by a place of worship of any faith-not uncommon at all in any Indian city-the municipal authorities would have been far more circumspect about turfing them out. Even the area’s residents may have displayed more sympathy at the destruction of a ‘shrine’ than the displacement of a woman and her dogs.

One camp of Indians fashionably professes to abhor the “politics of hate” and point to others as culprits. The other lot strenuously denies it. Yet that is precisely what is on display every time defenceless dogs (and often their human sympathisers) are ill-treated and hounded by members of both sides. We claim empathy for the underprivileged, marginalised and neglected-but not if they have four legs and a tail. If that is not hate, what is?