When the liar turned leader

Pompy the dog was on one of his daily wanderings around the city. As usual, he went sniffing around the dust bins, especially the ones outside the big restaurants, hoping to find some tasty leftovers. However, it wasn’t really his lucky day; he hadn’t found a single tasty tidbit after roaming the entire morning. He was driven out of the mutton shop, where he had curiously poked his nose, and given a thrashing for daring to trespass into a well-kept, posh garden.

But Pompy didn’t mind at all. Being a stray, he was a ‘street-smart’ dog who never bothered about what he would do the next day, hour or minute. On some days he got to eat his fill; on others, he went hungry.

That morning, he had left his hideout early. The old grandfather dog had given him a lecture on how he could stop being an uncivilized stray if he would just try, and Pompy just couldn’t stand it. In fact, as a puppy, Pompy had been picked off the streets by one of the most loving families ever. But Pompy had by then got used to living on the footpath, and responded poorly to his foster family’s love and attention. He missed his broken-down home consisting of an old decaying pipe that lay next to the overflowing sewers behind the city. He hated all the cleanliness and the rules. He liked the kids, who took care of him, but he wasn’t a good pet like the other dogs and he knew it. So one day, he just ran away, back to his own home behind the sewers.

But worst of all was Pompy’s compulsion to lie. He would boast of things that had never happened, of heroic deeds which he had never performed. Though he was just a stray, he refused to accept that he was an ordinary dog who led an ordinary life. If he was asked what he had eaten that day, he would say he had eaten a steak or a chicken leg, instead of telling the truth about the old fish bones that he had rummaged out of garbage piles.The other dogs in his locality at first believed him, and admired him. Then they realized he was boasting and it seemed funny. But the fun wore off soon, and they got tired of his tall stories. Gradually, they stopped talking to him altogether.

Now, tired of his morning adventure and his stomach rumbling with hunger, Pompy was just thinking of going back home when he heard a bark behind him. It was Bites, a friend of his. Bites was another stray, and one of the few friends Pompy had, because he was as deceitful as Pompy. However, he got into trouble more often than Pompy did, because he didn’t have Pompy’s good looks. Pompy often got away for just looking cute.

“Pompy! Wait for me”, cried Bites, running up to him. “I have a very interesting piece of news—”

“I don’t want to hear it”, said Pompy cutting him short. “I am dying with hunger here and all you can think of telling me is news! Tell me if you have any food with you. That would be interesting.”

“Well, I don’t have anything with me now, but—”

“Then forget it.”

“But listen, Pompy, I know of a way to keep ourselves contented for a year atleast! You won’t have to go searching for food!”

Pompy picked up his ears in curiosity. “How is that possible? Don’t tell me I have to let myself be adopted again or carried away by the municipality.”

“Nothing of that sort”, snorted Bites. “Tell me, have you heard of the Suburban Canine Elections?”

Pompy hadn’t. “Well, it’s an annual election for dogs in the suburban areas. If you stand for the election and win enough votes, you get to be their leader for an entire year. And the best part is the other strays bring food to the leader- you won’t have to do any work at all! You can just rest and listen to their problems and solve them.”

“What? Solve their problems? How can I solve everyone’s problems?” asked Pompy.

“Well, you can’t, and no leader can, to tell the truth. These dogs still don’t realize that they have to get together and work as a team to solve their own problems. But what you can do is, keep promising them that you will take care of everything”, said Bites gleefully.

Pompy thought over it. “Why aren’t you standing for the elections then, Bites?” asked Pompy suspiciously. “Surely, you wouldn’t like to miss out on a golden opportunity like this?”

Bites showed a mournful face to Pompy. “Who would like an ugly dog like me? You’re handsome. And you can fool them with your tall stories during the campaigning”, he said. “And I can be your secretary”, he added hastily.

Pompy was now quite excited. He allowed Bites to lead the way to the place where the elections were taking place. Pompy was surprised to see the enormous number of dogs who had turned up to listen to the candidates’ speeches and cast their votes. He was relieved to see that there wasn’t a single dog who knew him.

“Listen to this new candidate, all of you!” howled Bites. Pompy puffed up in self importance and gave a pompous speech, holding his audience and opponents spell bound. He spoke about how experienced he was in solving everyone’s problems, how sincere and truthful he was, how he would fetch them the best food in the city, how he would ensure better living conditions for each dog, and so on. It was no surprise that Pompy won the election!

Pompy revelled in the attention and success. He went around for victory rallies, while the other dogs hailed him as their new saviour. Good food came his way everyday, and he kept promising them that he would take care of everything. Six months passed. Pompy became over-confident, and boasted more and more, without actually doing anything. But now the other dogs started getting tired of him.

“We need to get rid of this liar”, said one dog. “But how do we prove he is lying?” asked another. “Let’s wait and watch if he tells a major lie that everyone can spot”, said a smart one. “Then, we shall all get together and drive him out of here!”

Pompy was unaware of all this, and let his guard down. One day, as a dog was interviewing him, he was asked what he felt was lacking in their community. “Why, I would say we need a flag! A flag that shows that dogs are powerful! I think we should have one in bright red or orange colour” he said, carelessly. “In fact, orange is my favourite colour.”

But no sooner had Pompy said this, than a sea change came over his audience. All the dogs started growling, and their hackles rose in anger. In a few minutes, the other dogs had descended on Pompy, attacking him, and almost tearing his limbs out. They threw him out of their locality in his wounded condition. As they left him to his fate, one of the dogs whispered in his ear, “Make stories carefully, my friend. Don’t forget you are colour blind, just like the rest of us.”

- Sneha Verghese is a research scholar in Journalism at Osmania University, Hyderabad. Also a post-graduate in biotechnology, she loves teaching and writing stories for kids to explain scientific concepts.

By:Sneha Verghese