They’re not my doggies, but I like to pretend they are. They are:
RUNT:
The mellowest of the FERAL dogs, Runt is my undisputed favorite. She's the one you're able to pet and cuddle without your hands smelling like butt afterwards.
And she obviously enjoys the affection, which is shown as she goes completely limp at your first touch and when she rolls onto her back, thus exposing the area she loves to be pet most: her belly. With her mother, Mutsky, recently deceased, Runt, at 8 human years, is the oldest of the FERAL pack. She seems pretty lazy--during the day, you'll find her napping in this shady spot or that one, and you rarely see her move faster than a jog--but at night, I can hear her loudly barking away at stray dogs, cows, jackals or whatever creatures the Indian night may hold. I'll miss her sitting at my feet, keeping me company as I read a book or pattering behind me as I walk from here to there. She's surely a sweetheart.
KALU:
You wouldn't want to face this canine if you're an intruder. He's big, he's strong, and he can be really, really mean. One of the first warnings we give to students coming to FERAL--maybe even before we mention cobras or scorpions--is to not approach Kalu, but rather to let Kalu approach you.
Case in point: the other afternoon, we literally had to pry him off of a stray dog that found itself on FERAL property. Kalu had the poor pup pinned on the ground with his mammoth jaw secured around the other dog's jugular. We were alerted of the situation by the stray's frantic yelps, which were beginning to get weaker and weaker as he inched closer and closer to death. Finally, after Ravi and the others pelted a volleyball continuously at him, Kalu released his doggy vitim, which stupidly lingered a bit longer and continued to growl. Ravi held onto Kalu and tried to calm him, and finally the stray scampered away. In the evenings, though, believe it or not, Kalu becomes a bit motherly; without fail, you'll find him grooming the other dogs. Or maybe he's just hungry for ticks and fleas--who knows.
BLAZE:
Blaze, the always-mangy Blaze! He is the newest and youngest to the crew. He arrived back in May, delivered by Anu and Ravi's relatives in Bangalore who had taken him in as a stray, but couldn't keep the rascal any longer. So, they dropped him at the farm, where for his first month, he innocently sprinted around looking so reckless, so lost. While Runt and Kalu will inch their way into the AC office for naps, Blaze would just amble around, investigating this, peeing on that.
Every chance he got, he'd also hump Kalu, and occasionally, when he felt adventurous, hump Runt. Poor guy, without any balls, is pretty confused. Recently, though, he's looking a little better acquainted to the farm and Kalu and Runt have actually accepted him (but not his humping, and therefore that has waned). Blaze and Kalu are often found beating each other up, and Runt just kind of looks on and grunts, although sometimes she gets pulled into it. At first I really didn’t care for lil Blaze; he’d eat your food (read: slobber on your food) while you weren’t looking and lay his dirty self on your bed. But Ravi scared those characteristics out of him, and now he’s pretty well behaved and actually somewhat likeable. No pun intended, but he’s the underdog, you know?; never really had a permanent home, and he doesn’t really know the first thing about the Indian version of domesticated dog life (basically, having a constant food source but still being able to run and poop anywhere you please). But he’s getting the hang of it, and I think he really enjoys living here.
My current conundrum: How to stuff Runt into my suitcase without Anu/Ravi and the airport security officials noticing. And getting her to America alive.
And she obviously enjoys the affection, which is shown as she goes completely limp at your first touch and when she rolls onto her back, thus exposing the area she loves to be pet most: her belly. With her mother, Mutsky, recently deceased, Runt, at 8 human years, is the oldest of the FERAL pack. She seems pretty lazy--during the day, you'll find her napping in this shady spot or that one, and you rarely see her move faster than a jog--but at night, I can hear her loudly barking away at stray dogs, cows, jackals or whatever creatures the Indian night may hold. I'll miss her sitting at my feet, keeping me company as I read a book or pattering behind me as I walk from here to there. She's surely a sweetheart.
Case in point: the other afternoon, we literally had to pry him off of a stray dog that found itself on FERAL property. Kalu had the poor pup pinned on the ground with his mammoth jaw secured around the other dog's jugular. We were alerted of the situation by the stray's frantic yelps, which were beginning to get weaker and weaker as he inched closer and closer to death. Finally, after Ravi and the others pelted a volleyball continuously at him, Kalu released his doggy vitim, which stupidly lingered a bit longer and continued to growl. Ravi held onto Kalu and tried to calm him, and finally the stray scampered away. In the evenings, though, believe it or not, Kalu becomes a bit motherly; without fail, you'll find him grooming the other dogs. Or maybe he's just hungry for ticks and fleas--who knows.
Every chance he got, he'd also hump Kalu, and occasionally, when he felt adventurous, hump Runt. Poor guy, without any balls, is pretty confused. Recently, though, he's looking a little better acquainted to the farm and Kalu and Runt have actually accepted him (but not his humping, and therefore that has waned). Blaze and Kalu are often found beating each other up, and Runt just kind of looks on and grunts, although sometimes she gets pulled into it. At first I really didn’t care for lil Blaze; he’d eat your food (read: slobber on your food) while you weren’t looking and lay his dirty self on your bed. But Ravi scared those characteristics out of him, and now he’s pretty well behaved and actually somewhat likeable. No pun intended, but he’s the underdog, you know?; never really had a permanent home, and he doesn’t really know the first thing about the Indian version of domesticated dog life (basically, having a constant food source but still being able to run and poop anywhere you please). But he’s getting the hang of it, and I think he really enjoys living here.
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To enter, you must crouch below the hanging roof which comes down literally like three feet from the ground, to minimize the entrance of sun and rain into the house. You know that passage from the Bible, "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven"? Dr. Pelkey mentioned that the "eye of a needle" in the verse actually refers to the entrance to this type of home, where one must stoop to enter. Interesting. The entrance leads to the main room, which is mostly an open space, but in the corner there are many pots, pans, plates and empty plastic bottles, and most importantly, there is an electric fan overhead. At night, Chitra, her husband, their three sons, and Chitra's mother-in-law sleep on the ground in this main room. There is a small opening in the wall that leads to another room, much smaller than the other, which holds a cabinet and a chair heaped with lots of clothing.
Her two younger sons (5 and 7) crawled and scurried around us as they played a game of marbles. The younger one was a dead-shot. Pelkey and I weren't blown away when he made the 6-inch shot, but our jaws dropped when he successfully hit the marble from five feet away (across the room). When the eldest brother (8 years) came in, he immediately spotted my camera and the digital exposé began. I have lots of pictures of half-faces and feet.
Fishermen dock their boats at the Pondicherry jetty before dawn - around 4 a.m., to be exact - and start unloading their night's catch. By the time Ravi, Zach and I reached there at 6, the fishing boats, which had just a few hours earlier hastily headed for shore, idly waded in the water. The fishermen were off to a breakfast and sleep, after selling their fish to middlemen, who then sell the fish to the lady merchants we bought from. 
We aren't even really sure what type of fish it is; Zach says they look like small barracuda. We paid 100 rupees ($2.50) for the fresh fish and had it cleaned and cut for a paltry 15 rupees ($0.38), which is actually more expensive than usual, as Ravi was in "bad company" (aka, with white people)!
