Just last Monday I happened to pass by the venerable Bombay House, the powerhouse of the Tata empire. Thoughts of Ratan Tata filled my mind. There was, of course, no way of meeting the great man. So I decided to make friends with the stray dogs who were being sheltered by Tata. A colleague, who was accompanying me, hesitatingly asked the security guy, posted in the narrow alley behind Bombay House, if we could meet “Tata's dogs.” He looked at us from head to toe and was convinced that our intentions were good.
He directed us to a kind of mezzanine floor in the hallowed precincts of the Victorian-style building. We opened the door of a large air-conditioned room and about ten street dogs rushed towards us barking their heads to glory. We patted them and they immediately calmed down and started wagging their tails in approval. There was an elevated wooden platform at the centre of the room where they could rest. A flight of steps led to this platform. There was a facility for showers and a dedicated staff was at hand to care for them.
The staff informed us that food for the four-legged friends of the big boss came from no less a place than the Taj at Colaba. The dogs were free to go out, roam the streets, and return to their home whenever they felt like doing “ghar wapsi.” Tata used to drop in whenever he could and spend time with his pets. They were not shareholders of his companies, but they most certainly had a share in his large heart. That was Ratan Tata for you. A man who had compassion for the lowliest of creatures who walked the streets of Mumbai uncared and unloved. Recently, he donated a hefty sum to a veterinary hospital for dogs with state-of-the-art facilities. Apart from millions of his admirers, these hapless children of God would also miss “apro Ratan.”
