THE WHITE CAT

 


A flat

2BHK with an elevator

And a parking space

Maybe a red or black or blue

Car will shine

Under the sun there.

Rushing off in a start

The family is on a trip

With stuffed lions and dogs

Visible from the tiny window

On the car’s back.

 

A child’s hand would hold them

One by one

And twist theirs ears and pull their tails

Kicking her feet, she wails

For her phone

Maybe her Appa would reprimand

Maybe her Amma would cajole

But they would soon give in

Choosing to ride in peace

 

The long trip ends with

The battery dead

The long, long day ends with the sunset

Chicken and soda on the table

Fading away through the city lights

The child dreams in colours and noises

 

The car is parked inside

The perfect yellow square

Their footsteps vanish into the air

The last of arguments die

The lights are turned off

The door is locked

The perfect house is complete

 

But the earth beneath the car

Knows an age old tale

That came before

The perfect house

And the perfect family

 

It opens one mouth wide

And sings to the moonsky:

There once was a girl

Who held a white cat

With splotches of orange and grey on it

She called it, “The White Cat”

The White Cat would

Soil her mat

“Shoo”, the girl would chase it away

“Go away”

But the White Cat would wait

At the window sill

Impatiently

For the girl to feed it

It’s fur was soft

And the heartbeat was loud

A tiny fragile thing it was

The girl held it in her arms

There were many “Shoos”

And suffocating hugs

Reeking of love

 

When the White Cat

Was no more fragile

But

Frozen solid

With silent heartbeats

And unmoving eyes

Matted fur and drooly mouth

The girl could “shoo” it no more

Could hug it no more

Tears were shed

Her being a leaking bottle of sorrow and misery

So

I hugged it

In her stead

For I am the earth

And the dust

Engulfing The White Cat

Until flesh became bones

Bones became ashes

Muddy hug reeking of manure

I hold The White Cat in it

For it was loved

By the girl.

 

Saying so,

She sealed her lips

Guarding her treasures in them

 

Under the perfect family’s

Perfect house

Many were hugged by

The ground

Wet steps thumped

Against the creme tiles

Resonating

I wonder whether

The ground

Can hug me too.

 

 

 

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