My Experiences With Cats: Part 1

Dear Ratna,

Looks like you are smitten with poetry bug! You have shown creativity, and I admire creativity. I chuckled as I read it and enjoyed it. Now let me elaborate a little more about the scenario where Blackeye inadvertently bit my mom.

At that time, we were living in Bandel, a town where Bandel Thermal Power Station is situated. We lived in buglow type quarters. The one-storeyed building was very large, around 1800 sq ft, but larger was the compound, around 10000 sq ft, I guess. It had servant's quarters as well. The entire premises had one swing gate at the front, which was mostly open before 10 pm at night. It was enclosed by a wall which was not more than 3 feet in height. Dogs found no trouble in jumping over it if they found the gate closed.

 

My experiences with cats: final part

We were simply dumbfounded, discombobulated. Who would bite mom in that crowded place? I had read stories about Count Dracula, who loved sucking blood of his victims, but he would never choose this crowded place for his supper. But, my mom was indeed in agony, her face told it. We always knew that she was hyper, but this had to be real, considering the contortions in her face, the flushes of tears trilling down her heavily rouged cheeks, completely ruining her make-up, which she must have put on after hours of tedious work.

When urged to explain the matter, firstly, she pointed towards her left heel, which was bleeding slightly, and then she pointed towards the footpath. There was no doubt in our mind that there was something in the footpath that made that tiny cut in my mom's left heel. But, we could not see anything tangible threat there. My mom said that it must have fled.

Upon pressing her further to reveal the matter clearly, we came to know that there was plump ginger cat resting on the pavement, whose existence mom was completely unaware of before stamping on his tail. Cheetahs or cats, no matter which species the feral creatures belong, one thing is very common about them is the fact that they simply adore their tails. Their tails are like gods! Any insult upon their precious possession, they will not tolerate it: they would protest, and as a matter of fact, of which my poor mom fell victim of, they don't believe in Gandhism.

When my mom, unknowingly though, put her left foot on the proud tail of the feline creature, he couldn't tolerate the unimaginable insult, which, perhaps, nobody that far had inflicted upon him. No wonder, he bit my mom's heel before going to heal his injured vanity in some secluded place. As I wrote earlier, father had had a good experience regarding how to react to bites of domestic animals beforehand.

So, instead of panicking, he simply enquired about the pedigree and conduct of the cat from various nearby shopkeepers. We were satisfied to know that the ginger cat, named Sallu, was adored very much by them, and he hadn't bitten anyone before that incident. Father told them to keep a close watch on him, as he would visit after a week to enquire about the well-being of Sallu Mian. He did it rigorously for a fortnight, and found him to be jolly and gay. This story ends here.


After a gap of two decades, I had another encounter with cats, which would constitute the final part of this blog. The faint-hearted people among you are advised to leave here as this incident you might find a bit unpleasant. At that time, I was living in a nondescript place in Nadia district. Krishnagar was my district headquarter where I had to visit once a month for meetings. One of my office staff had a car, and he used to take me there, out of coutesy, on such dates. He was a master in bike-riding, but car driving was not his cup of tea, which he had learned just a few months back after buying an azure Hyundai car, and that too by self-learning.

At that time, I didn't have much love for cats, as I had been a bit bugged by them in my place of residence. I shouldn't say them, because there was only one sable cat with tawny eyes which resembled a ghost in dark nights, and there were no dearth of dark nights due to frequent load cuttings. This mysterious creature had an odd knack of entering my flat on any pretext: whether in search of leftovers in the garbage bin or for her fondness for the warmth of my bed in my drawing room, where I kept a spare cot.

As I said her color was sable, and eyes were tawny which changed their appearance at night, turning into burning coal, sometimes, I shuddered watching them, even though I was very courageous. Her sight was nothing more than an irritant to the eye, but what made me hate her was her habit of using my spare bed as if she owned it.

The moderate flat where I lived had three rooms, one drawing room, one dining room, and one bed room. I had two cots, of which one was at my bed room where she didn't have the guts to venture, and one was at the drawing room, where I used to spend evenings by watching television or gossiping with neighbours. There were 3 windows in that room, of which two were always closed, as they faced a swamp, which was a rich breeding ground for mosquitoes. But, I had to keep one window, facing the front, open for want of fresh air. This crafty creature took advantage of that, and had no qualms about using my bed for her comfort.

As I said, load-shedding was a routine feature in those semi-urban areas, there used to be frequent encounters with dark nights. But, it was not just the power cuts that bothered me, because for power cuts every one would suffer, and the power would come back eventually. But, my flat had also suffered from many short-circuits, where the fuse would be blown. That was why I was a bit jumpy to ascertain whether it was load-shedding or it was my fecking fuse that gave away!

This was the reason, I always visited the veranda to see my neighbourhood -- whether it was flushed with bright lights or it was solemn dark like mine -- and the veranda was in front of the drawing room. In the process of ascertaining whether I had to awake my landlord for fixing the fuse, or I should wait for the line to be back, I often found this unwholesome creature majestically snuggling on my bed. I must admit that she was extremely dexterous, because whenever I tried to throw something -- whether a sandal or a magazine -- or to wield a stick at her, she would vamoose in no time, as if she knew dark magic.

Therefore, despite taking the risk of less air passage in my flat, I chose to close all the windows in that room. Indeed, it yielded good result of her never ever getting a free access to my bed, but as a revenge she had taken the game to a different level. As if by saying, "Khela hobe (Game on)", she began to defecate in my veranda with poop and urine, at least, once every week.

The housemaid would grudge and grumble everytime she had to clean it, and her bitter tone suggested as if I told that freaking creature to do those obnoxious deeds to trouble her. But, I was helpless, beacuse I had no powers to prevent the pussycat from defecating my veranda. But as a result of the cat's constant acts of unhindered defiance and abominable insolence, I lost love with this particular species.

The final part happened during this time. As I wrote earlier that the office staff who was taking me back from Krishnagar to my apartment was a novice driver, who had learned driving from no one but himself, and who had just a learner's licence at that time, was driving cautiously in the city area. But when he entered the rural area, he became a tad bold and careless, continuously pressing his right foot on the gas pedal as if it was a toy to experiment.

I had no intention of disturbing him by talking to him, as I was a bit apprehensive of his driving skills. But he was in a joyous mood, probably from being relieved of the duty which had bored him for the last three hours or so, and he began to boast of the new chimney system that he had installed in his kitchen. When he learned that even I, a city-dweller, didn't have any such thing at that time, his joys knew no bound, and he became reckless in driving.

There was a huge noise as he made a sudden brake, and my head hit the front seat, while my spectacles flew off on to the car mat. After gathering my composure, when I enquired what had happened that made him to do this sudden brake, he had already been out of the car. His voice was throttled, his face was pale, and he pointed his fingers to a certain thing on the road and said,

" I am extremely sorry, Sir! I had no idea!"

I thought he was talking about his poor driving skills, and he had no idea of driving at a high speed. So, after an enormous effort of stifling my anger, I said rather calmly,

"It's okay. It happens to new drivers: these sudden brakes!"

He didn't seem to take heart at my consolation, as he continued lamenting,

"How can I wash my sin, Sir? How do I make penance?"

I was a bit astonishined because of his unduly scruples, as I thought making sudden brakes was not a big crime. Perhaps, he was thinking of the discomfort that he caused me. Looking at my bewildered face, he understood that I had understood nothing. So he said,

" Sir, haven't you seen it? Please look there."

This time, looking at his pointed fingers, I could see the reason of his scruples. Indeed, there was something very unpleasant and gory spectacle lying in front of me. I took a stride forward to see that a little kitten, hardly one month old, milky white in colour, was lying in a pool of blood. My inexperienced driver had crushed it under the left front wleel of his car. The tiny innocent creature must have been like a soft, fluffy white clew. But, at that time, its tender body was maimed, mashed, ground by some evil power, and was covered with blood, and most importantly, it ceased to breathe. In short, my greenhorn driver had taken a kitten's life.

I knew that people like him might not have been village idiots, but they were prejudiced to the core. I understood that he would lose his sleep for many nights before losing his health caused by extreme mental agony. So, I had to find a remedy for him, lest I should lose the service of one my important employees.

I told him that since he had popped the clogs of a cat, which is considered as a vahana of Ma Sahsthi, the goddess of fertility, he should do his atonement by offering a grand puja of the said goddess, and not to forget about feeding the always hungry Bhahmins of his village. He seemed to have been satisfied by that solution after asking numerous times whether it would suffice, and later on I learned that he did exactly what was bid.

My story ends here. Please feel free to comment.

 

Dear Viswamitra,

Thanks for your appreciation, Sir! I also have no problems with either pet lovers or pet haters. As you have rightly said, each one is entitled to one's preference.

Regarding the forthcoming US presidential election, honestly, I don't have much facts. Some reports here have been projecting Kamala Harris as the probable winner. But I am sceptical about these reports. Are the black votes going en masse to Kamala? If that be the case, then Trump has got to use all the weapons in his armoury. Maybe this immigrant issue will become his trump card. How are the jews going to vote, and what about the Indians? Why don't you are a blog on this topic?

 

Lovely picture Sir, and thanks for your comment! These incidents are most ordinary, but I tried hard to give them some dramatic effect.

 

Dear Ratna,

You are doing well. Keep writing.