The Cat

' I have been seeing this cat ; a young and good looking one walking around my house. I had felt that it is not so safe for a young one to walk around the way this one did. why should I be bothered?. I left it at that.

That was not to be so.

I started noticing this Tom boy loitering around the same area. I could see glances being exchanged and a relationship building up. Why should I be bothered?. I left it at that again.

That was not to be so.

The next time I saw the cat she was pregnant. I was a bit worried.

Why should you be?. You might ask.

Five months back another cat, which went through the same love affair, gave birth to three; unfortunately in my wife's cupboard. Short of blaming me for the cat's pregnancy , my wife blamed me for every thing that cat did in my house.

And now another delivery looming large in the horizon ? . I was anxious.

Days seemed longer and nights sleepless. Finally one morning I heard the 'Meoow' sound from the sun shade. I climbed up and saw the mother and three outputs of her ' Love's Labour ' together ; happy and relaxed ; as relaxed 'as poached eggs on toast'.

Till this point things were smooth ; like the first half of a Hindi movie; boy,girl, love, marriage,pregnancy,delivery etc.

Then the plot thickened ; not as thick as Achutanandan - Pinarayi ,
the Jesudas - Guruvayoor temple entry ones, or even as the Govt owned plots in Munnar. But thick enough.

Yesterday morning my wife interrupted my sleep, like rain did during the Test match at Dhaka. The reason? the cat again.

The cat had moved its family of three from the sunshade, the ' Labour Room', to the ' Pay Ward ' ; my wife's cupboard again.
Operation evacuation started.I shifted the Kitten from the Pay Ward to a completely sheltered portion outside;near the porch. The cat sensing our un willingness to accomodate them carried them to another shelter.''

The door bell rang. I stopped writing.

'' Writing ? Writing what ?. You might ask.

I wanted to improve my writing skills and had asked Kochappan to help.After the World cup I rang him up one week back, and for a beginning he told me to make a short write up on an actual incident in real life in recent times which touched me the most. Hence this one on the cat.

What is touching about it ? you might ask. I continued writing. I have to mail this to him today.

'' Today at about 6 in the morning I heard the cry of a cat outside my bedroom at the backyard.It was not a cry; it was a lament, a wail ; a plaintive mourn of grief.
The sort which un settles you. I, tiptoed to the back yard without waking up my wife. It was the same cat. It stood closer to a thin metal sheet over a pile of coconut shells. I gently lifted the sheet. Staring at me were the brown eyes of a dark Tomcat.It looked at me for few seconds and ranaway. When we were young we have heard of the stories of tomcats tendency to kill and eat the offsprings.
I looked at the kitten.They were not eaten.

They were still. I looked at them closely.There were bite marks around it's neck.
There were dried drops of blood. I saw them cuddling and nestling in the cupboard few hours back. I stood still.

I looked at the queen cat. It was still making that inarticulate moaning sound.
It looked at me straight. I felt guilty. I walked back, turned and looked at that cat .

It was there . For me it was not just a cat standing there wailing in grief.

It was a mother. I saw in it's eyes the look of a mother ; the agony, the anguish, and hatred of a mother.''

menon (aniyan)