India's vast population of stray dogs mostly survives on mounds of garbage, but there are many Indians who routinely feed the dogs out of a sense of charity and love.
Among them is Veena Singh, 69, who spends four to six hours every day feeding strays in some of Delhi's richest neighborhoods. She fills her tiny car with bottles of milk, buckets of rice and loaves of bread and begins her rounds about noon â€" just as summertime temperatures often soar past 44 degrees Celsius, or 110 Fahrenheit. She has no air conditioning and is soon soaked with sweat. But dozens of dogs in Delhi thrill to see her car and hear her voice.
“Paro! Paro!†she sang out her car window one recent day. Three dogs sprang from hiding places and trotted after her car, their tails wagging. She stopped and, cooing softly, mixed several bowls of food. Paro and another dog ate hungrily but the third hung back about 1 0 yards.
“That one is afraid of the black one, so I have to feed him a little distance away,†Ms. Singh said as she ambled over. “Come, Mingus, come.â€
She petted each dog in turn, filled a clay bowl with water and headed off. A block away, she stopped again to feed and water two more. Each had a collar that Ms. Singh had sewn herself in hopes of demonstrating to others and to the dogs themselves that they were loved. There are so many strays in Delhi that her rounds resemble those of a Federal Express driver in an office park: she rarely drives more than two blocks before stopping in another pack's territory.
After several hours and dozens of stops, Ms. Singh - surrounded by flies - mixed together a large bag of milk, rice and bread, put several plastic bowls under an arm and entered Lodi Gardens, Delhi's most majestic park.
Ms. Singh said that many Delhiites scold her for feeding strays.
“‘Why are you doing this?' they yell. ‘Take them to your house! They're such a nuisance,'†Ms. Singh said with an exasperated shrug. “I just ignore them, and now I mostly feed the dogs in back lanes.â€
Ms. Singh's husband left her at 22, and he briefly converted to Islam to avoid providing any support to her and their two young children, she said. Ms. Singh was forced to raise the children on her own, so she understands abandonment. As a result of her efforts, she hopes that Delhi's dogs feel somewhat loved.
For many dogs, the streets are better than the alternatives. At Friendicoes, a Delhi shelter shoehorned under a highway overpass, 250 dogs and 12 cats were squeezed into far fewer cages. Most cages had at least two dogs, and several dozen dogs were tied up outside of the cages. Many had been hit by cars or injured in fights. One lost much of his fur after being splashed with acid. Most were pariah dogs that licked a stranger's hand and whined with delight when petted. The shelter treats pariahs f or free but charges for pedigrees. Volunteers come every day to walk the dogs, but their prospects for better lives are poor.
“Nobody adopts the Indian breeds because everyone wants a pedigree,†said Resham, a volunteer.
