Meet the four-legged stars of the Adishakti theatre complex

Deep in the heart of Tamil Nadu, at nodding distance from the unique community of Auroville, a theatre complex called Adishakti lies sprawled across a few acres. Love and caring transformed the once barren red earth and bramble-covered land into a vibrant theatre space where experiments on sound and breath were started. Today, though the founder of the group, Veenapani Chawla, is no more, the actors trained by her are carrying her legacy forward, training actors to use their breath as a means of expression, and also creating new productions that find appreciative audiences across the globe.

But it is not the people or their work, this column is about; of them much has been written already by many. This column is about the dogs on the Adishakti campus. There are a dozen of them at any given time. Mostly strays of mixed colour and ancestry, some typical Indian dogs, others hinting at adventurous encounters their forefathers must have had with dogs of some pedigree. Generations of them have come and gone over the years, some dying young, others living to a venerable age where they watch benignly over the antics of the younger ones.

Typical of the community they belong to, they have a gamut of interesting names. Three siblings, striped brown and black, as if the shadow of a tiger had fallen on them, are called Black, Red and Blue. When Red, the only one to birth another threesome, delivered a multicoloured litter, they were named after another film. I would rather not mention the name, considering how easily umbrage can be taken. Then there is the young, very curious Socrates, and the macho Gulfie who alone is allowed to roam the grounds at night, unchallenged by man or dog. And the beautiful Farishta, and Kaaya, Habibi, Ichinba and Doodu.

They lack nothing. Not food or water, nor medical attention when the need crops up. But like all communities they have their hierarchy. At some early stage, territories must have been fought over and marked out. And most often the boundaries are voluntarily respected. It is not unusual for a visitor to be serenaded by a dog at the gate, who might walk along tail-wagging or barking, depending on the chemistry between the person and the beast. At some invisible line, another denizen, or maybe two, may take over and ensure they give the visitor the company of their watchful eyes.

The two main gates to the property have their own sentinels, seniors who might lazily lift their heads when needed and bark out a warning for the younger ones to take over. And for years now, the auditorium has been the favourite haunt of one four-legged occupant, who will either curl up on a chair through the night, or during a rehearsal, climb to the top most bench and snooze, letting the sounds wash over him like a familiar caress. At times when his master and his team try out new songs for their upcoming productions, he has been known to cock his ears, sit up straight and try joining in. Nobody minds. 

Over the years, it’s been a peaceful coexistence. To each dog his own. The arts lover enjoys his shows, the older statesmen discipline the youngsters when needed but there is never a fight over food or territory. Sometimes they gang up, forgetting their own boundaries as they exchange ferocious insults across the wire fences which separate them from the neighbouring dogs, but it’s mostly bravado. When they meet on neutral ground, they are quite civil with one another, and might even engage in some rollicking play.

Once in a while human intervention is needed. Like a watchful agency, masters have to discipline the younger ones who might test the heat of their young blood by digging up plants, or attacking the neighbour’s hens. At such times they are punished... fed and locked away, and prove more contrite after a week or more of such treatment.

There is a point to this story. About dogs, considered pretty low in the intelligence chain, if you count humans, dolphins, octopuses, elephants and suchlike, learning the rules of coexistence, despite differences in their size, weight and the varying degrees of ferocity they may have inherited in their DNA. They learn to work together for the good of the place they inhabit. And tolerate one another’s differences, in a very humane manner. Is there something we can learn from them? 

Sathya Saran  saran.sathya@gmail.com
Author & Consulting Editor, Penguin Random House