Every dog has its day, the sages say. One such dog indeed had its day early this week—and not at a neighbourhood park or a pet spa, but at the august precincts of the supreme temple of democracy: Parliament. For the first time in living memory, a member of the canine species came close to enjoying parliamentary privilege, albeit only in the premises and not on the plush carpets inside. No, the little fellow didn’t sneak in. Nor did he wander in following the smell of political fireworks. He arrived in full style, trotting beside Congress MP Renuka Chowdhury—though not as her pet. In fact, he wasn’t her dog at all. She had simply rescued him on the way, finding herself suddenly responsible for a creature she could neither abandon on the street nor safely take home, given that she did not even know whether he had been vaccinated.
Chowdhury, a feisty parliamentarian with a reputation for speaking her mind, made a quick, humane call: if the dog couldn’t be left to fend for himself, he would accompany her until she found a safe solution. Being an obvious dog lover, she did what any compassionate citizen would have done—especially one familiar with the saga of Yudhishthira, who, in the Mahabharata, refused to enter Heaven without his loyal dog. But Parliament is not Heaven, and its security personnel are not Indra’s celestial guards. They demanded a pass, something no constitution or committee has yet conceived for canines, rescued or otherwise. Chowdhury made valiant arguments. This was a meek, bewildered street dog, not a pampered pet. He wasn’t likely to bark at strangers—a trait, she might have added, that cannot be claimed by many elected representatives. If allowed inside, he would have sat quietly at her feet, listening with dignified confusion to the long-winded speeches that pass for debate. Even if MPs on either side barked at one another—a familiar parliamentary pastime—the rescued fellow would likely have maintained a monk-like silence.
In short, the heavens would not have fallen. But who listens to logic in a place where even reason needs a whip to be marshalled? The poor dog would have discovered, had he been allowed in, that the House shelters many figures far more ferocious—and far more likely to bite—than any creature picked up from the roadside. Still, Chowdhury succeeded beautifully on one front: she pushed her four-legged companion-for-the-day into the national conversation. For a full news cycle, the country debated the merits of dog-entry instead of dwelling on trifles like unemployment or the closure of thousands of government schools in Uttar Pradesh. What a tragedy that we, as a nation, have come to such a pass!
