Every Dog does not have his day
I am a stray dog. Frankly, I am a dog, and “stray” is the adjective assigned by you according to your vocabulary for my natural habitat. My fellow living beings and I are animals or species wandering on earth, flying in the sky, or swimming in water—based on what God has gifted us, with an honest commitment that we will never break our promise to these natural gifts. Why us? You too were once nomads before you discovered agriculture-based civilization. All of us believed that Mother Earth belongs to everyone, without boundaries, demarcations, or laws—defined only by nature—and experienced divine spirituality in all forms of creation, a natural experience that embodies the spirit of coexistence and harmony.
Stories of my loyalty to you and my bravery in your wars dominate your literature and imagination. You awarded me gallantry honors and built memorials when I saved hundreds of your community members from aggressions led by your own communities within. Then I understood—it is your style of thinking that creates “others” within yourselves. Your history is filled with conflicts, where one community views another with suspicion, treats them with aggression, and inflicts wounds and violations—bleeding and destroying everything: schools, libraries, places of worship, symbols, women, and children belonging to other communities. To rule over others is your way of thinking, not ours. The most benevolent rulers within your community are not truly kind or compassionate; they are those who believe in “taming” others through what they call “peaceful subjugation.”
The exceptional ones within your community were regarded either as “saints,” to be confined within textbooks, or as those who had strayed from community goals and thus deserved severe punishment. That is why you now consider me as belonging to an “other community” that does not deserve to exist, and anyone whose heart bleeds for me is branded a criminal or expected to be punished by having hundreds of my kind tied at his doorstep. It is your sense of superiority, concealed beneath the façade of compassion, that makes you adore pet dogs, caged parrots, elephants in zoos, and tigers in rescue centers—celebrated as a corporate form of benevolence.
You considered me violent. What a mockery of the word. Your history across centuries and geographies is filled with wars, aggression, violence, subversions, gas chambers, nuclear and biological weapons, suicide bombers, lone-wolf attackers, terror networks, and rifles—killing not only other communities but also burning wives, torturing parents, and waging infighting with siblings under different labels. And yet you consider me and those like me violent, even while you rob everything from us. We are far more civilized than you, for we preserve everything that Mother Earth has taught us.
Today, anyone who loves us, anyone whose hands feed us and whose heart bleeds for us, is deemed a criminal in your definition of justice and the framework you have created. Yes, rulers make rules for themselves. Look at the outcome you have produced: you are forced to breathe toxic air, drink polluted water—including so-called “purified” plastic-bottled water—and eat adulterated food. It is a pity that after exercising immense intellectual powers, developing great inventions, and building architectures and civilizations, you now struggle with the basics of life and live under the fear of natural calamities and tsunamis. It is not the alarms and red indicators on your digital dashboards, built through AI to process millions of signals in fractions of nanoseconds, that will protect you, but the hands that feed me with compassion. The realization that Mother Earth belongs to all of us, with her natural beauty of mountains, rivers, and oceans, is the foundation of your survival. It is high time you fulfill your duties to Mother Earth.
Bol Madhavache 