Deep in the heart of Garhi Shahu lives a man with his 35 dogs -- bull terriers, pit bulls, and their mix, the Pit Bull Terrier.

Jamil Akhtar aka Billa is not the first person in his family to raise and train this many fighting dogs. It was his grandfather who first fell in love with the ‘sport’ (of dog fighting). After his death, it was Akhtar’s father who looked after the dogs. Under his tutelage, the dogs won even more awards for their appearance and fighting skills than those raised by his grandfather. But Akhtar has broken both their records.

Before proceeding further, it is important to describe the purpose for which Akhtar is raising these dogs. A dog fight involves dogs, their owners, hundreds of excited spectators, and policemen (who are there for the show, not for maintenance of order), awards, (misplaced) glory and betting.

Betting aside (which is undoubtedly against the law), under the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, 1890, the dog fight itself is illegal. Akhtar believes that there is no such law. "If there was such a law then how has dog fighting continued from the British times and why is it enjoyed by security officials and politicians alike?" he asks.

Before the fight starts, the owners agree on a prize. This could be a sum of money, a chain of gold, a piece of jewellery, or anything else they fancy. After the prize is handed to an impartial third party, both dogs are released into the fighting area which is typically surrounded by a cheering crowd. (In Akhtar’s case, if the fight is happening in Lahore, half the crowd comprises residents of Garhi Shahu. The neighbourhood holds unwavering support for him and his dogs.) The dogs have been trained to kill.

Once a bull terrier bites into the enemy dog, he will not let go until either that dog is dead or his owner enters the field and pries open his jaw, thereby releasing the opponent dog.

It’s not often that owners let their dogs die on the field. Once a dog’s tail drops down, owners are immediately alerted that their canines will likely lose and that they should admit defeat and ask the opponent owner to end the fight.

Sometimes, however, owners’ egos get the better of them.

Just last week, K2, one of Akhtar’s best fighters, was in a match which began with the former suffering many injuries. In the eighth minute of the fight, K2 managed to bite the opponent dog’s neck and wouldn’t let go. The opponent’s tail dropped but his owner refused to concede. "He insisted that his dog would bounce back any minute now," he says.

K2 ended up killing the dog, and has many injuries to prove it. He is one of four dogs housed in the streets outside Akhtar’s house in a tiny individual kennels made of bricks and a grill.

Even with bruises and injuries all over his face and body, K2 was excited to see Akhtar. "The dogs absolutely adore him," says Fatima, Akhtar’s South African daughter-in-law who moved to Pakistan only a year ago. She says that Akhtar’s discipline in training and caring for the dogs is exemplary. "He wakes up at half past 5 in the morning, feeds and waters all 10 of them. The dogs are then sent for a 10-km run along the canal and when they return they are massaged and fed almond milk. I have never seen anyone care for an animal the way my father-in-law does," she says, while her 9-month-old baby boy feeds Katie, one of the largest bull terriers I had ever laid my eyes on, a biscuit from his bare baby’s hands.

It seems that Fatima, who recently converted to Islam, has made a home for herself in Garhi Shahu amidst Akhtar and his dogs.

In Akhtar’s home, there is a room reserved for the trophies and medals his dogs have brought home, books with records of all the competitions his dogs have won and photographs that tell many stories. One of the photographs shows Akhtar standing with his arm around a fully grown lion. Since the lion was treated like a prince, it was only apt that Akhtar named him Raja.

For 12 years, Raja lived inside the same house that was inhabited by Akhtar’s large family, dogs, peacocks, chickens, and ducks. Then came the 2013 election. "Some fellow party workers from the PML-N asked if they could borrow Raja for election rallies, and with a heavy heart I agreed," Akhtar tells me. Unfortunately, Raja never returned to Garhi Shahu -- Akhtar was told that PML-N’s rivals poisoned the Irani lion.

When asked if he had at least received some sort of compensation for his loss, Akhtar waved off the question. "I raise my dogs and lions because I love caring for strong healthy animals, not for money making and compensation," he says.

If there is no profit, however, then how does he sustain himself? The mere cost of feeding one dog is Rs1,000 per day. That would mean that Akhtar spends over Rs1,000,000 just in feeding the dogs.

He explains that out of the 35 dogs he owns only 10 are fed by him, hence drastically reducing the projected costs. The remaining 25 are housed, fed and trained by friends and colleagues in the neighbourhood.

"There are a lot of big-hearted people like me in this mohalla who want to care for these dogs but can’t afford to buy them. So, I make the purchase and then hand over the dog to a responsible person. If the dog wins a competition, the temporary owners are kind enough to share the glory and the award with me, since at the end of the day, I am the owner," he clarifies.

Largely, Akhtar avoids the topic of betting and profit-making. He explains that his brothers run a real-estate business and that’s enough to keep the households running. Other sources such as his friends and neighbours say that just last month Akhtar sold six of Katie’s puppies for Rs300,000 each. They also reveal that apart from the ‘prize’ that is decided openly at the start of every dog fight, there are numerous bets that are placed at every match and it is these sources of money that sustain Akhtar’s upkeep of the dogs.

While Akhtar’s children appear enamoured by the dogs, his wife is fed up by his obsession. "She’s jealous," he tells me, "not only of the money I spend on the animals but also of the attention they receive."

Every breathing moment of Akhtar’s day is spent looking after the needs of the dogs -- he says he can’t even leave Lahore for weddings or funerals because a few of the dogs, such as Dora who is deaf in one ear, won’t eat unless he feeds them himself.

While aspects of Akhtar’s story may evoke interest, or even compassion, at the end of the day, even if profit-making is not his basic motivation, what he does is fundamentally cruel. What is also worrying is that it is not just this one man who is responsible for training 35 dogs on how to kill but that right in the heart of urban Lahore there is an entire neighbourhood of bloodthirsty people who support him.