Cutie was brought home as a tiny little kitten. So cute she was that we christened her Cutie. Comical as it was, we allowed the abstract noun prevail. It is all about poetic justice, you would agree. I could see time turning one full circle. The entire neighborhood had booked the kittens of Cutie much in advance, hoping that the kittens would be a replica of this Persian looking furry cat. Her beautiful lush tail was her crowning glory. And she often breezed it in front of all the tom cats in the neighborhood. She was the soft-spoken queen, proud, with a stiff upper lip attitude. She rarely mews, and I often thought that she had a little bit of a language problem! I had wondered many a times of what would happen when her kittens would arrive. How would a nearly unspoken mother train her kittens the trick of the world? I was assured that the three years had passed without any unduly worry, and such a grace would continue to prevail. But not for long!
And come that holy Tuesday, I saw her entering my bookshelf. I asked her what she was doing there. She looked at me as if to say, “Allow me to take a look at your books and feel enlightened!” I cajoled her to get out, lest she tries to sharpen her claws on my books. I have encountered such nightmares before when cats have felt cozy on my books and had torn it to taters! A cozy place indeed to keep them away in a mull!
Having left my room, to run a few errands, I realized that Cutie was spending a little too much of her time in my bookshelf, and by now the novelty of the books should be worn out. What was she still doing there in my book shelf -- Plato and Aristotle and Aristophanes and Sophocles and the all the Greek trilogies would be of little interest! I rushed to see what was happening to my Greek Gods and Goddesses, only to find the frightened, ambivalent, nursing, bewildered, proud look writ all over her face. It was indeed a shock of my life to see a little soggy kitten that resembled a slimy rat. Before thinking twice, I rushed to help the playwrights away, lest they should cast a curse me, and tremble in fury in their graves.
That night was spent keeping watch over the mother and the baby giving my sweet, pretty cat company - brushing her, and patting her, and feeding her, and looking if the kitten was safe and sound. Well, and yes, the night passed with the tiff with Cutie, and the kitten. She would bite the kitten in her mouth and move it from one corner of the house to another, in search of the ultimate secure hideout. I could not tell her in as many words that the holy place where the little one was brought to life was the best of all the hideouts. I sometimes had to remover the kitten from its mouth and put it back in its original place!
The role of the midwife was just in the offing. Looking after the kitten that would take a fortnight to open its eyes, the curiosity to know if the kitten was a He or She, making sure the place was spic and span and above all, assuring Cutie that I was a well wisher meaning no harm to her delicate one when caring her meant a renewed relationship with my cat.
I suddenly realized that the ambivalent, disconcerted attitude that I had for this cat was changing. We had until now shared an amicable aloof attitude with each other and she reciprocated the same emotion with greater intensity. I couldn’t be too perturbed and so was she. But now things were changing. Now I could see cordiality oozing.
My being such had its reason. I had tried to be aloof with every pet that had its way into our household. But every cat and every kitten has seen tragic ends, with kittens being taken away to the gallows by threatened tom cats, and all the female cats being thrown away or simply left by the road, for people to pick them at take them home.
The coming of this kitten has brought all these memories back again. I have not christened the kitten as yet, and will not. Why you may ask? The answer is simple – with a name comes bonding and with bonding come the burdens of emotions. I do not want to re-live those countless moments yet again, of having cared for all the cats, been a mid wife to each, having buried and cried over every cat and kitten that I named.
The charm that this nameless kitten has is boundless. I plan to share the very same emotions of the mother to her kid. This time of a nanny that disciplines the kitten not to stray away, lest it should be in danger of tame animals – until a neighbor adopts the unnamed kitten.
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Ps: This article was published in the Infosys online news magazine: Essence - Chronicaling Corporate Memories
1 comment:
This was da first article read over the phone to me by Manoj.... I still remember da pride n emotions in his voice while reading it... now i exactly kno y!
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