The baptism of a dog man, Mumbai India. I would like to share a dog man's story that I've written, inspired by a true event that happened with me. I still can't wrap my head around it.

Writing this story is my head around it.

Writing this story is probably away for me to make sense of it.

I will reveal to you what part of the story is true toward the end. Usually we have heard stories only about encounters with the vicious scripted dogman.

Here is a legend about how a dog man probably comes into being as a result of the apathy of the

very society we live in and certain dark forces we know almost nothing about.

I grew up in a part of Mumbai, India that has always identified themselves as nastics,

meaning non-believers.

Non-believers in everything, from the great gods to the damned devils.

But something happened in this quaint town that crushed this disbelief to blunt shards.

My town is located on the outskirts of the National Park,

so close to the woods that it gets preposterously chilly, especially at night.

Outsiders find it eerie, but to us it just means that ice cream lasts longer.

I was employed for the longest time but managed to get a job as a

postman thanks to my childhood friend Tejas who works as an accountant at the

local post office.

Postmen get designated zones in which they have to deliver.

Lucky for me, I got assigned the area where Tejas and I have lived all our lives. It's on the outskirts of the National Park.

Unlike in foreign countries, Indian postmen do not get vehicles for delivery and have to deliver mostly on foot.

I didn't mind that. I thought it would help me shed the extra pounds that I had put on while I was unemployed. But delivering

posts turned out to be a thankless job. To pull my spirits up I would plug in my

earphones and try to bob my head to the sickest beats on the way to the houses.

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