All sinners broke into loud, uncontrollable sobs as soon as they arrived in the gate of hell and they saw its guard, the god of dogs. The dog god had it

all to intimidate mere mortal sinners-a mammoth physique, large, pointy claws, monstrous teeth, and a pair of blood red eyes which made him as grotesque as the devil himself. His thunderous barking was the last sound that sinners heard and his malodorous breath stayed in their noses for eternity. Unsurprisingly, those who mistreated any animals—especially dogs—in their lifetime were chewed by the dog god only to be spit back as death.

Although the god of dogs dreaded his duty, he did it anyway, for the loyalty of a dog—particularly the god of dogs—is unquestionable. Among the rare liberties granted to him was a day’s holiday but ages had passed since he took his last holiday. He had been yearning one for decades. The overwhelming influx of sinners, however, kept him stuck to the gate. Finally, for the first time in six centuries, the god’s prayers were heard.

A morning passed without a single sinner coming to hell. Convinced that there would be fewer sinners that day, the dog god decided to ask for a holiday. Without wasting a precious moment, the great watchdog left his post and went straight to his master, the Lord of the Netherworld.

The dog god found his master in the Fields of Punishment, from where he oversaw all the tortures and made sure that each miscreant received their due punishment. Clad in a long black robe, the Lord of the Netherworld looked gloomy rather than cruel; disenchanted with work, his face looked pale.  But duty is duty, howsoever unpleasant it may be. The god who lynched, boiled, burned and impaled sinners was an unsuccessful lover at heart.    

“What brings you here, worthy Cerberus?” asked the lord, surprised.

“My lord, it’s a wonder that there are no sinners today. The humans must have started living righteous lives. Ages have passed since these paws played with earth, my nose craves for the smell of flowered pastures, and my eyes desire to see beauty of the mortal world. I request for a day’s leave, sire.”

“The mortal world is sure to disappoint you, but if holiday is what you wish, you may have it. But remember, be a dog not a god. Farewell then.”

How nice would hell be if humans were as succinct as my master was, thought Cerberus. He then bowed to his master and left for the city of Kantipur.

It was no wonder that Cerberus chose to spend his holiday in Kantipur, the fabled city, where simple, kind and god-fearing people worshipped animals as devotedly as they worshipped gods.  He spent all of his rare holidays in Kantipur, as did the most of the gods. Lately, however, they preferred other destinations to Kantipur. The city dwellers, once a rare sight in hell, were ubiquitous now and spoke of the ugliness

of their city. But sinners can hardly be trusted, that is what makes them sinners in the first place. Cerberus could never imagine the corruption of this incorruptible land.

Travellers, gods or men, are crestfallen when a destination betrays their expectations. Kantipur, which had become Kathmandu now, disappointed Cerberus from the very beginning. Instead of the wondrous temples, beautiful hamlets, sweeping paddy fields, charming people and clean rivers, he saw derelict shrines, dirty patches of settlements, foul sewages and an unconcerned population. The city’s beautiful architecture dominated by the golden pinnacles of enchanting pagoda temples and well-planned settlements with houses that exhibited rare artisanship and beauty had sank into oblivion. Everything was ugly: buildings, rivers, people, even the air. Cerberus, nonetheless, decided to spend his day wandering in this city of ugly concrete houses.

—-

The sight of people on the side of the river got Cerberus curious. “A funeral, it seems. Pity that people chase the gods out of the rivers and cremate their dead on the riverbanks hoping for salvation,” thought Cerberus. Still, he did not see anyone crying, so he swam to the opposite bank to find out more.

A few people were knee deep in the river collecting rubbish and filth; some soldiers were clearing overgrown bushes; some people were

pretending to clean the river and the rest had rectangular objects in their hands and were smiling at it. Cerberus moved closer to see what they were doing.

“This is going to be my profile picture. Do you think any editing is

necessary?” asked a pot-bellied man.

“Woah! That’s a nice selfie,” replied his bald companion looking at the object “Unfortunately, I can’t take good selfies. Wait awhile,” he stooped, picked some junk, displayed a set of yellow teeth, and spoke “Guriji, will you please take a nice photo for my profile picture?”

The pot-bellied man held the object with both hands; his eyes fixed on it. Suddenly, he shouted, “Oho! Where did this bhusya kukur come from? It’s spoiling the photo.”

The bald man—furious with Cerberus for spoiling his photo— was quick to strike him with a stone. When both men began hurling stones, Cerberus ran away, with his tail between his legs.

“Filthy animals, they make the city dirty,” Cerberus could hear someone shouting.

“You make the city dirty,” Cerberus barked back.

—-

Around twenty teenagers with boards in their hands were standing in a roadside garden. They appeared to be shouting something, but nobody seemed to take notice of them. Cerberus, out of curiosity, wanted to find out what the group were doing.

“Stop the Yulin massacre,” shouted a thin boy, who led the gathering.

“Dogs are our friends,” followed the rest.

After repeating this several times, the thin boy finally spoke in English, “Friends, as I speak now, hundreds

of our best friends are being

slaughtered in the name of tradition,” he pointed to a fat boy, “Oi! Take pictures now, this will go to our page… And yes friends, how can we, the responsible citizens of the world, remain silent when this naked act of brutality pillages the very core principles of humanity-“

“Nice words,” whispered someone in the crowd, “Thus we voice our protest, and we do so with all our might.”

  There was a thunderous applause, even Cerberus barked loudly in approval.

No sooner had he barked, Cerberus felt something hard strike his stomach. It was a stone. Soon Cerberus moved away, with tail between his legs.

“What a shot!” every one praised a boy with freckles who had thrown the stone. The boy blushed from the compliments.

“I don’t think this is funny,” a girl with spectacles broke the celebration, “these street dogs are such nuisance, why can’t the Metropolitan control them? I think we need to do something about these filthy animals, they make our city dirty.”

“You make the city dirty,” barked Cerberus.

“Why not organize a rally? We can do it tomorrow, a rally will get spotlight, yes, and we may get some press coverage.”

Their voices grew fainter as Cerberus moved away from them. “All of them are going to be in hell and that is going to make hell even more depressing,” he thought.

—-

The holiday had increased Cerberus’s sadness instead of reducing it. Nothing including the city’s name was the same. Kantipur had become the city of godless temples and soulless people. Like an immortal sinner with a plagued body, Kantipur cried out in perpetual agony.  

Cerberus was relieved to find the Lord guarding the gate in his absence; his master was the kindest soul he had met that day.

“So, you are back early, wise one. How was your holiday?”

“The world has changed, sire. The people have changed; everything is disappointing.”

“The world is always the same, Cerberus. You see joy when you are happy and you see disappointment when you are sad. ” The Lord gave a gentle pat in his head and vanished.

Cerberus knew deep down that his city was not the same; Kantipur had really changed.