An Austrian in Devanahalli

Gunter from Graz had been in India for a whole 2 months and didn't have a single encounter with a stray dog. His upmarket suburban Bombay locality didn't have the menace and he was pleasantly surprised to see that Bangalore took care of its problem. That was until his final hour in the information technology hub of India.

It was a windy and pleasant evening in Devanahalli, outside the airport, but Gunter was exhausted and starved. After all, the Bangalore trip was tiring and full of meetings. He hadn't even managed to grab a bite for breakfast or lunch that day.

With the flight being a few hours away, Gunther decided to indulge in a large kaati role. It was at that moment when the last stray dog of Devanahalli made an appearance. The mutt was ugly, skinny and deprived of its hair. The diseased creature was knocking on hell's door but the smell of the role drew the drooling mutt towards Gunter. However unlike Jhandelwalan, which had its share of stones, the area outside the airport was clean and bereft of missiles. Gunter's appetite reduced as he saw the saliva dripping from the mouth of the disease-infested mutt.

He had to do something to chase away the mutt. So in a flash, he grabbed his bag containing the tripod and flung it almost like a javelin towards the dog with a loud grunt. The frightened mutt ran for cover evading a couple of Meru taxis and staying alive for another few hours. It was when Gunter bought a sandwich at Subway to assuage his hunger that the mutt returned but all it had to do was see the rage in the Gunter's eyes to realise that its own hunger wasn't worth a pounding from the big black bag.

Two days later, the mutt died and Devanahalli lost the last of its stray dogs.

An Austrian in Jhandelwalan

It was well past 2 am on a cold November night when Gunter from Gratz left New Delhi's Oberoi hotel. A night when winter had set in and the werewolves, djinns and other creatures of the Delhi night were particularly excited as the Karthik Full Moon was just around the corner.

The Austrian had been a veteran of many India trips and had a basic idea of Delhi's roads. All he needed to do was get to the Karol Bagh Metro station and he could find his way to the hotel.

A semi-drunk auto-rickshaw driver took him to what seemed like the Karol Bagh station. It was 3 am and not a creature was stirring in the dark lanes of west Delhi. As Gunter walked the streets he thought he knew well, he realised that the hotel was nowhere in the vicinity. But who on earth would be able to help Gunter? The only souls visible to him were a few homeless and packs of stray dogs. Would Delhi's Djinns provide a path out for the now-weary traveller?

Finally some recourse arrived with a "semi-decent" looking young man in a car who told Gunter that he was near the Jhandelwalan Station and not Karol Bagh. After all those beers, it all began to make sense. The Austrian was betrayed by that fiend of a rickshaw driver. The young man offered to drop a frustrated Gunter to Karol Bagh. But how could he get into the car of a drunk, who could possibly be some sort of psycho from Dwarka?

Braving the cold, the muttering of some homeless men and angry stray dogs who resented the sight of a blond European in their territory, Gunter walked ever so slowly and on guard till he reached the Promised Land of Karol Bagh. The words of Sting must have run through his mind.

Oh Oh, I'm an alien
I'm a legal alien
I'm an Austrian in Jhandelwalan
Be yourself, no matter what they say!

Finally after a painfully long walk in the bitter cold, Gunter was within sight of the much-desired metro station.  One aggressive obstacle lay in his path. This was the king dog of Jhandelwallan. His eyes glowed in the dark and his growls and barks were of the menacing kind. Gunter's familiarity with Asian stray dogs came to his aide at that one precarious moment when rabies was imminent and the hotel seemed a hospital trip away. He picked up a stone in quick haste but the mutt was undeterred. The barking got louder and more aggressive and the mutt decided to make a charge. A charge that was successfully thwarted by a direct hit. Gunter threw the stone hard enough to have an impact but not with enough force to hurt the mutt, who retreated in anger, insulted more than hurt.

There lay Karol Bagh and the hotel and as Gunter moved into the lane, he witnessed the sight of 200 Chinese monks ready to embark on a pilgrimage to Bodh Gaya. He truly had seen it all from the Oberoi to Karol Bagh but he was happy to get back unscathed by the wild Delhi winter night.