Walk up the stairs of the prestigious Mohsinul Mulk Hall’s distinguished hostels, they greet you, of all colors, adorable browns, black spotted, creamy grey, fluffy velvet eared, half awake half asleep. Friendly they are, to the collegians and vice versa, conventionally never distraught at being woken up if asleep.
At Sir Ziauddin Hall they guard the top floor keeping an insincere eye on the entry of the outsiders, hoping for the things to improve, which seldom happens, the perpetuators always find their way inside.
At Mumtaz House, two of them guard the dining hall and other two, the rooms, working in turns. The dining pair always leering through the door looking for a bone or some course, they hardly get and their peek brings the bearers to chase them, however, firm, they appear before the chasers have disappeared.
SS North had ample of them before. A friend of mine tells , they were all caught and thrown out like unwanted children conceived out of unwanted pregnancy. SS South and Ambedkar Halls, even though not alien to them, don’t usually get entry conceivably because the former represents the university founder and as tradition stand, they would never be let it, fallacies aside. Ambedkar, they argue is too hot and distant from the fellow community and hence can’t bear the separation.
At Allama Iqbal Boarding House, the trick of their survival is quite uniquely unequalled. When the indecorous headstrong boys chase them, they spitefully jump into the nearby drain knowing their fate, for the gate is always closed at the time of quarry. They favor dyeing in honor than being lynched.
Five of them monitor the Arts Faculty-CEC area, wrestling, growling and snarling with their littermates and unlike humans each owning his space, checking infiltration of wantons and coquettes, as security guards securing a check post on the border but, alas, Human Egg headedness.
Not every dog is meant for the dog park, the dogs voluntarily make themselves vulnerable by “falling” down and exposing their bellies when playing chase. They take turns chasing each other. Stray dogs, as we have them here are scavengers and feed on the waste bins located alongside the roads and paths but although we don’t have dustbins, we still have dumping yards and to the ease of this unwanted community, they are too near the hostel windows where mosquitoes breed and take-off like jets in a war.
Two mongrels have been posted outside the Central Library. Occasionally, one of them can be seen near the main gate of the library checking-in to have some AC Cooled air but always has to return disappointed, considering the library staff, selectively social. They don’t even permit humans sometimes. The dogs commission regularly drops-in, discussing issues, politics, and political issues and of course, the transformations that are required keeping in eye the inability of a fellow comrade, to perform his due duty.
The head of the association, himself seated behind the library canteen feeds on the brick made dump bin and usually distributes the duties among the significant others. Disagreements can never be heard, exceptions considered, and the head is changed after every few months. Strangers are no matter to them, they are accustomed to all and various and usually don’t get aggressive as a house dog might, never barking, to get attention for being ignored. They love food but aren’t lucky enough to get a regular course that an ‘adopted’ dog, might.
‘What are dogs and what do they mean to us? Of course, the difficulty and sadness about the ‘dogness’ of dogs isn’t limited to the dogs themselves. They recognize us all, when collegians of any Hall of Residence walk close, hounding them, while they are catnapping, the normal situation requires that they should walk away, but no, here the situation quite altogether different, first they shake off their doze, opening single eye and if they sound danger, simply walk away as if in a fashion show or otherwise, without bothering retain their later state and start slumbering again.
They don’t bother or to say ‘don’t give a damn’. To the indolent, languorous research scholars, occupying the prestigious rooms of the Aftab Hostel, they bring crashing confusion and menace. Sleeping long than their sleep, our brain whelps have evolved a tactics of waking them up early in the morning. They run away, playing with one of a pair of their shoes, leaving them searching them for their pairs and hence helping exercise their dosed bodies. The laborious scholars always dream about dogs, wondering why such cruel buggers are adopted by the humans and not themselves. Unemployment may be a human complication, but this community of the society is always employed and satisfied with what they have and have not.
In the Suleiman Hall, they sit in the engineers’ way, front shanks forward, back ones under their belly as if ready to run in a marathon, their heads high and alive like attentive students in the class who do not go to the classroom merely for the attendance.