Around 3:50 in the morning today, I found myself awake and looking at the yellow lamps that glow outside my window, from the courtyard. These final days of submission, when the supposed tension and pressure has broken me down completely that I cannot bring myself to work, and so sit around thinking of how e.e. cummings got his name, my alarm is always set to 4:00, and my biological clock wakes me up earlier than that. There is a small light outside my window- Delhi in the summer- and the strange fear of waking up to find the ghost of Elisa Lam in my room didn't scare me much. And yet, a certain fear silences my movements as I fidget around, looking for my slippers, that hadn't come back from their midnight stroll. That strange sense of having Poe's raven look at you from the window-sill, when you know that the shadows are just cast by over-grown aloes, that was stifling me. And then, in that moment of dead silence, even as I knew that the dawn was on to me, the first miaw was heard, and like the stalker can recognise her subject of interest from a movement, I knew which cat this was. The distress call of a cat was far more important than my fear of ghosts and serial killers, and having summoned my slippers, I stepped out, in to the sleeping hostel corridors, to investigate. And as a scene in most of the cartoons I had seen as I grew up, there she was, this little kitten, somehow stranded on the ledge of a sunshade, quite a distance from the courtyard ground and the nearest window sill. The mother stood on the ground and looked at me looking at another male cat looking the kitten looking at all of us. There we were, three of us, two majestic and one irrelevant, all of us standing on a courtyard and wondering, how do we save this little kid?
After a long assessment of the geographical and emotional terrain, I reassured the mother that I was going to save the kitten. I don't think the mother understands Malayalam; but I doubt whether she would care even if she had; she probably had formed her opinions about me already. I brought a blanket and laid it on the ground for the kitten to have a soft landing, but she refused to budge. Then I dangled the blanket from a verandah on to the ledge, so the kitten could climb on it and I would pull her up. But the kitten undoubtedly saw not a soft, warm blanket, but a monster, that it moved further away from me and miawed again. The mother, doubtful of my capabilities now, joined me on the verandah and gave me the look to convey what she was thinking all along, that I was up to no good. In a final attempt to gain respect in front of the mama cat, I climbed on the ground floor parapet wall and reached towards the ledge and ordered the kitten to come to me. In Malayalam. Actually, I was laying out my good intentions, to help her, then requested her, and finally resorted to begging. That family of cats need to taught Malayalam, I thought, for the kitten didn't budge. I dunno how long I stood on that parapet wall, one hand reached to the ledge, in my night clothes, talking to a cat that obviously didn't care for me. The mother cat had followed me, and sat there watching the ledge for a while; when no action ensued, she lied down and gave us a bored look. After almost 45 mintues of this very uncomfortable situation, I decided to leave. I told the kitten my goodbyes, and to the mother, I cast a look of apology and shame and retreated back into my room. Perhaps the kitten had decided that she didn't want help anymore; perhaps the mother had chosen this day as the one that the kitten learns to jump from ledges (aka the most comfortable cat beds). In either case, this was her day of courage. And I couldn't stand there like a condescending fool.
After a couple of hours, at breakfast time, the kitten wasn't on the ledge. I assumed she was safe somewhere and with her mother. I wasn't wrong, In a corner of the courtyard, the mother lay on her side, and the kitten next to her, her head dug deep into her mother's stomach and slowly breathing, sleeping. Who among us hasn't felt a little fear after out first brave step, and hence the need for more comfort? I swear the mother gave me a proud smile. She can.
After a long assessment of the geographical and emotional terrain, I reassured the mother that I was going to save the kitten. I don't think the mother understands Malayalam; but I doubt whether she would care even if she had; she probably had formed her opinions about me already. I brought a blanket and laid it on the ground for the kitten to have a soft landing, but she refused to budge. Then I dangled the blanket from a verandah on to the ledge, so the kitten could climb on it and I would pull her up. But the kitten undoubtedly saw not a soft, warm blanket, but a monster, that it moved further away from me and miawed again. The mother, doubtful of my capabilities now, joined me on the verandah and gave me the look to convey what she was thinking all along, that I was up to no good. In a final attempt to gain respect in front of the mama cat, I climbed on the ground floor parapet wall and reached towards the ledge and ordered the kitten to come to me. In Malayalam. Actually, I was laying out my good intentions, to help her, then requested her, and finally resorted to begging. That family of cats need to taught Malayalam, I thought, for the kitten didn't budge. I dunno how long I stood on that parapet wall, one hand reached to the ledge, in my night clothes, talking to a cat that obviously didn't care for me. The mother cat had followed me, and sat there watching the ledge for a while; when no action ensued, she lied down and gave us a bored look. After almost 45 mintues of this very uncomfortable situation, I decided to leave. I told the kitten my goodbyes, and to the mother, I cast a look of apology and shame and retreated back into my room. Perhaps the kitten had decided that she didn't want help anymore; perhaps the mother had chosen this day as the one that the kitten learns to jump from ledges (aka the most comfortable cat beds). In either case, this was her day of courage. And I couldn't stand there like a condescending fool.
After a couple of hours, at breakfast time, the kitten wasn't on the ledge. I assumed she was safe somewhere and with her mother. I wasn't wrong, In a corner of the courtyard, the mother lay on her side, and the kitten next to her, her head dug deep into her mother's stomach and slowly breathing, sleeping. Who among us hasn't felt a little fear after out first brave step, and hence the need for more comfort? I swear the mother gave me a proud smile. She can.
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| The Hermitage Court Moor in casual uniform by Eldar Zakirov. Part of The Cats of the Hermitage series. Picture accessed from http://blogs.artinfo.com/artintheair/2013/08/13/here-are-the-six-tsarist-style-cat-portraits-the-state-hermitage-museum-commissioned/ |
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