January 22, 2025
DHAKA – As the CNG-run auto-rickshaw pulled away, I stepped onto the culvert, the cool evening air wrapping around me like a cloak. Just ahead, a pack of stray dogs roamed the street, their loud barking echoing in the quiet night. A jolt of fear shot through me; this was not the first time I had encountered them, but each meeting felt uniquely unsettling.
One dog, likely the leader of the pack, caught my eye. It approached me with a confident swagger, its dark fur gleaming under the streetlight. My heart raced, imagining the sharpness of its teeth and the potential for danger. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, shrouding the night in darkness, and I was only yards away from a graveyard. If the pack decided to chase me, I could easily tumble into the muddy, polluted Ramchandrapur Canal flowing beneath the culvert.
As I stepped forward, the leader snarled, “g-r-a-w, g-r-a-w!” My heart skipped a beat. The streets of Dhaka at night transformed into a kingdom for stray dogs, their bravado magnified in the dimly lit, quieter environment. They marked their territory, barking and howling as if the city belonged to them.
I made my way across the culvert, which was more than half occupied by the pack. When I glanced back, I saw the leader following me, its eyes glowing ominously in the low light. I froze, feeling the chill of fear creep into my bones. I silently prayed the dog would lose interest. With a deep breath, I managed to move away slowly, and gradually, the pack faded from view. It was a night ruled by anxiety.
Stray dogs often form small packs at night, scavenging for food in garbage piles and street corners. Unlike pampered indoor dogs, these strays lack consistent access to food, shelter, and medical care. Their lives revolve around survival, often leading them to become bolder in their night-time explorations.
The following night, I approached my walk home with a new strategy. As I neared the culvert, I decided to offer some snacks to the “platoon commander”. To my surprise, the dark-coloured dog showed signs of gratitude, wagging its tail and sitting beside me. At that moment, I felt a sense of connection and wondered what I should name him. Kalu seemed fitting.
Just then, a loud bark rang out from a distance, and Kalu responded in kind. I could almost picture their conversation: the distant dog inquiring, “What’s going on over there?” and Kalu replying nonchalantly, “Nothing to worry about.”
On another occasion, Kalu greeted me with a friendly demeanour, as if to say, “Hi, buddy,” and surprisingly escorted me all the way to my home. Normally, I avoid walking the streets late at night, cautious of the potential dangers lurking in the shadows. But with Kalu, the innocent stray by my side, I felt a newfound sense of security.
With each encounter, I realised that perhaps these stray dogs were not just wild beasts, but rather, resilient survivors navigating their urban jungle. As I continued my late-night walks, Kalu became a comforting presence, reminding me of the unexpected friendships that can emerge even in the most unlikely of circumstances.
In the heart of Dhaka, under the watchful gaze of the moon, a bond was forming — one that turned fear into companionship in a city teeming with life.