The once bustling road in the heart of Mysore city fell silent, people looked at one another questioning with eyes. Few downcast eyes were looking at the toe, which was making a pattern on the mud as they waited for their turn to pay respects in the surprisingly long queue. People walking and driving on the road sent up a prayer to the departed soul and thought that the dead soul must have indeed been popular in the area. Kids in the block tch..tching to one another in whispers added to the queue.
It was the queue to see the dead Tiger, a Dachshund that most of the kids had grown up seeing and teasing, the elderly neither loved nor hated the hyper active dog, the youth were always exasperated at Tiger barking and running beside their slow running two wheelers, the cyclists would pull up their legs in the air to escape from being the bite of the day, and the kids loved to play with Tiger by throwing balls and see him running full throttle after it!
Tiger was gentle yet hyper, his skin a glistening black coat and drooping ears with soulful eyes. His legs though short were very strong. He listened only to his master and none other. The only exercise he got was running after every vehicle that passed by the house or after kids playing on the street. But he was very much an integral part of the hustle and bustle of the street and knowingly or unknowingly had touched everyone’s heart – the queue was testimony to that!