Thursday, March 31, 2005

When you’re twenty-six, an Indian, a girl and still unmarried you kind of get used to people nodding their heads and sympathetically saying, ‘Oh so you are not married’.

I have been told the above by an assortment of people (relatives, family-friends, new acquaintances, taxi-drivers, etc) in a variety of situations (at weddings, funerals, pubs, parties, etc). But nothing prepared me for what happened yesterday. Yesterday, a travel agent nodded his head dolefully and said, ‘Oh so you are not married’.

It seems two kinds of people find it difficult to get a visa- terrorists (I really don’t think terrorists apply for visas but never mind!) and ‘unmarried’ single women. Bah!

Monday, March 28, 2005

His was the look
Of trying not to look
The feeling

Of trying not to feel

Monday, March 21, 2005

The first thing my father told me when he taught me how to drive was, ‘There are three golden rules of good driving. Anticipation. Anticipation. Anticipation.’ He kept repeating it until I could utter it even in my sleep. Anticipation. Anticipation. Anticipation. It echoed in my head like a chant. Anticipation. Anticipation. Anticipation. My father had said, ‘Learn to anticipate. The power of anticipation is what distinguishes a good driver from a bad one.’

My darling father, you devious you! You said you’d teach me how to drive a car but you actually taught me how to drive all successes in life.

Anticipation. Anticipation. Anticipation.

Friday, March 18, 2005

I caressed her face and she leaned closer to me. A jolt of pure pleasure and happiness ran through me. I had waited so long for this moment.

The first time I saw P I thought she was one of the most beautiful creatures I had set my eyes on. She was with her sister M, and was sitting quietly in a corner. Her sister, M, was pretty in a plump sort of a way, but P was gorgeous with a lithe attractive body. They were both attractive enough, but P’s silent beauty had more character than M’s exuberant one. Who could help but love M? But I fell in love with P. M’s apparent liking for me often forced P to accompany us for the walks we took, but P never came out for a walk with me alone. The more she ignored me the more I craved for some attention from her. M’s need to be hugged and petted made me want to touch P even more. How could M be so accessible and P be so aloof?

It was almost a year before P started approaching me of her own accord. I knew she was happy when she saw me but she still didn’t let me get closer. A year is a really long time. I never realised that I could wait so long for anything in my life, especially unrequited love. Perhaps the reason for my unending patience was that I had never before felt what I feel for P. Or perhaps it was only because she didn’t reciprocate. Whatever be the reason, I knew that I wanted her to love me. I wasn’t asking for too much. To be honest, her space in my life was only restricted to office hours. I rarely thought of her when I was at home. I knew she would never be the most important person in my life. Neither did I want to be the most important person in her life. I wasn’t looking at any commitments. Just love.

Yesterday evening I stepped out of the office and saw her immediately. She was sitting in the distance, her paws folded in a ladylike fashion. Her feminine pose marred only slightly by her single-perked-up ear (Oh how I adore her ears! One is parallel and the other perpendicular to the ground.) She saw me and literally ran towards me. I automatically extended my hand towards her, expecting her to flinch away. But she let me pat her forehead. And then she licked my hand.

Ah but there hath no better heaven than a hell where you’re loved!

Monday, March 14, 2005

Autobiographies are written by the self-indulgent. This is not an autobiography. This is not even a short story about my life. This is about me. There’s no difference, I hear you say. But there is. I don’t intend to talk about my daily life or about the female I date. I shall talk about myself and my opinion on certain cat-related issues.

Shall we first get over with the introductions?

I’m Cat. Kit Cat. Yes funny! Ha ha! Laugh all you want. But for us cats our surnames are always Cats. Something like your Daruwalas or Batliwalas. My name, ‘Kit’, now that’s another thing. There’s a story to that. I was orphaned and adopted even before I realised what was happening around me. I was told my mother died when she fell from the roof of a human house. How she managed that I do not know. (Cats can jump down two storeys unharmed. It is surprising that the film industry has still not thought of using us for stunts. But then that are human beings for you. Brainless twits.) I guess my mother did not really have a chance of surviving. You see, she had already lived eight lives. But these stories about my mother I heard much later. My first stories were those I heard from the Humans who took pity on me and adopted me when I could barely open my eyes. Though to give myself a little credit I was adorable even at that age. Now, I am not one of the vain cats you hear about. But you have to call a spade a spade and a looker a looker. And I was a looker. Anyways, to go back to the story of how I came to be called Kit. I was alone and shivering in the cold when the Humans took me in. They gave me milk and a warm blanket. They started calling me Kittie, a name that came easiest for a cute shivering little kitten. Over the next few weeks they considered several names but Kittie stuck on. Over time Kittie became Kit. And that’s how I came to be Kit. Kit Cat.

Now that I have finished introducing myself let me tell you the real reason that I am talking to you. As I told you before, I am not going to talk about my life. What I am going to do is clarify certain misapprehensions you humans have about us cats. Before I get into the discussion I would like to say that I am not trying to justify any of our actions but just stating facts. Plain cold facts. Here it goes.

Cats are not lazy.

No seriously. We are not lazy. Don’t judge us because of that Garfield Cat fellow. He’s a fat slob and should not even be called a cat. Think about it logically. We spend hours grooming ourselves. You can call us vain. But how can you call us lazy. Why would anyone lazy make the effort of covering up his refuse? Yes, we do that. We don’t leave it around for others to step on it like humans do. Now you could call humans lazy for doing that but not us cats. You can’t call us lazy because we like to curl up in a chair most of the day. We do that to warm the seat for the humans. You can call us kind but certainly not lazy. The problem with you humans is that you tend to misunderstand everything because of your amazing capacity to analyse things at a superficial level. You see somebody’s hand bleeding and you say, ‘Oh you’re bleeding.’ A cat on the other hand would have said, ‘You should keep the apple on a chopping board and not in your hand while cutting.’ We cats go beyond the obvious whereas you humans jump to conclusions.

To give you another example, I never stray beyond the boundaries of the block that I live in. Now, you humans would immediately jump to the conclusion that I am too lazy and comfortable to bother to step out of my ‘territory’. The truth actually is that I don’t venture out because I am a very kind cat. I am a softie at heart. Don’t scoff. It is true. A long time ago I had overheard some humans saying that ‘It is bad luck if a cat crosses the road.’ See there you go! Jumping to conclusions. ‘Black cats’ you correct me. ‘It is bad luck if a black cat crosses the road.’ You should have met me before you passed on that quick statement. You see, I forgot to mention earlier that one of the names the Humans considered calling me (in addition to Kittie) was Blacky!

Friday, March 11, 2005

Do you think Snoopy gets some good books to read in Doggy Heaven? Posted by Hello

Saturday, March 05, 2005

I seem to be perpetually PMSing for the past few months. I read somewhere that a woman in England was acquitted of murdering her husband on account of her PMSing. So all of you, who have been victims of my moodiness, my (uncharacteristic) temper bouts, my silence, my “Can I call you back?” and then not doing so, my snapping and my not keeping in touch, please don’t convict me. I plead PMS.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

He said ‘I am going to get for you the moon’
But he left me abandoned in the blinding dark.
He said ‘I’ll journey to faraway lands for you’
But he left me alone and moved two blocks down the park.

He said ‘I’m going to love you forever’
But he didn’t even love me in that moment we shared.
He said ‘You’re the one I love. No one else’
But he went straight to her with no moment spared.

He said ‘I shall wipe away all your tears’
But he left me wet-cheeked when he made me cry.
He said ‘Only death shall do us part’

But then he aimed an arrow straight at my heart and said ‘Die’.

He said ‘We shall marry and we shall live happily ever after’
But he didn’t tell me ‘happily ever after’ is true only in fairy tale reams.
He said ‘We shall live in a house full of children and shelves of books’

But now he lives with me in my pillow. In my dreams.