Some people love cats, while some despise them as if they were untouchables. I know of a Bengali jounalist who had 17 pet cats in her house (the number might have increased manifolds by now). Just imagine the scenario when she enters her flat. Surrounded by cats: here a cat, there a cat; everywhere a cat cat; here a meow, there a meow, everywhere a meow meow. A cat on your lap, while a cat on your hat. A fat cat, a bony cat, a sable cat, a tabby cat and whatnot! Personally, I have nothing against them, and at the same time, I have no fascination for them either. Let me tell you a few experiences of mine with this feline creature.
My mother used to hate cats as much as a pious Muslim hates eating pork. In my childhood, I always wanted to have some animal as a pet in my house. I loved watching them. My first choice, though, was dog. Once, a bitch (literally so) gave birth to 6 snowy healthy puppies. Two of them died, while four survived. All the children in our locality adored them (if you don't love a puppy, I am afraid, you are heartless), but no one was ready to adopt any of them. However, I was eager to adopt one. When I raised the issue with my parents, my father had no objections, but my mother dug in her heels. The reasons: it would make the house dirty, it would not survive without its mother's care and most importantly to her wild imaginations, it might bit us. She told me stories about dogs who bit their owners to death before eventually eating them.
When my first application was rejected, I was disheartened a bit, beacuse I, indeed, loved one the pups and was almost sure of adopting him, but I filed my second appeal. What about a tiny little kitten? A fluffy furball? It would not be ferocious, and it would be easier to manage. I vouched that I would clean the mess, it might create. But, my mother said she read somewhere that the hair of a cat could cause a deadly disease called diphtheria. So, she sneered at my proposal, and the left the room in a pet. She had lot of objections towards adopting birds as well, but somehow I eventually managed to adopt a bird. I will tell you about that story later.
I strongly doubt about the cocept of karma, but there were some strange occurrences with my mother regarding cats and dogs, where some diabolical mind might infer that she paid for her karma. Let me first tell you about the incident involving dogs.
My mother hated dogs to the extent of having them in her house, but not to the extent that she would deny the poor creatures of the leftovers of our meals. There was a dog, whom she herself named as "Blackeyes" because of the black stains around her eyes, who used to eat the leftovers which was thrown away towards her. As it became a regular wont, she would come early and wait for mom to come out to the kitchen veranda to throw the leftovers.
One day, we heard her fearful screams after dinner. When we rushed to the spot, she told us that Blackeyes had bit her. When we enquired further, we came to know that while she was throwing away the leftovers, Blackeyes, who might have been starving for want of food, in her desperation to grab some grub, jumped and took the food directly from my mom's hand. In the process, my mom got a tiny little cut in her right forefinger. There were a few droplets of blood.
My mother was a kind of hypersensitive person, and she took no time to raise a hue and cry. She was sanguine of getting rabies. She was so pessimistic that she thought that she would eventually die a painful death. Though very rational, my father was not a man of science. He didn't know much about rabies. So, being very scared, next day, as the incident happened at night, and we all had to bear with mother's wailing and forebodings about her imminent death, he took mother to the local hospital.
Fortunately, the doctor was a sane guy, and he asked whether the dog that bit mom was a healthy one or a sickly one. There was no reason to believe that the little bitch, which was around one year old, had any symptoms of being rabid. Hearing that the doctor advised dad to keep a close watch on that bitch. He told dad to inform him if that bitch showed any signs of ferocity or any abnormality. Meanwhile, he administered a Tetvac and told mom to chill. The dog stayed healthy and story ends here. But, the agony of my mom with domestic animals didn't end there.
A few years later, we went to the Gariahat market, which was renowned for being the best apparel market in West Bengal, for puja shopping. Durga puja is the carnival that the Bengalis enjoy most, and they save throughout the year to indulge in a shopping spree for this occasion. I didn't have much interest in buying clothes, but my main attraction for these going-outs was food. Being a gourmet, some people had sometimes accused me of a being a gormandizer, unjustly though, my sole concern was food. So, when we were done with buying my yellow baggy t-shirt and blue jeans, I lost all interest in the purchase of my parents' clothes.
It didn't take much time to buy my father's attire, but my mother, being very finicky about her dresses, took eons to choose her saris. She visited two renowned shops without much success, and eventually we were in the third shop. By that time, it felt like angry rats were marching in my stomach, and even each second passed seemed epochs to me. I was praying to God to end my ordeal soon. My father, too, had had enough, and when he pressed her to choose from that prestigious shop and that too quickly, finally, she had to submit, but with a lot of grudges. She wanted to see more. Father consoled her by saying that he would bring her here in Christmas again.
At last, we came out of the shop, and my father asked me the question which I had been longing to hear. It was about the food, but he told me to choose something that would not take long to prepare, as it was by then quite late. I had had heard of a food shop named Beduin, which was famous for its rolls. It was famous because their cuisine was exquisite: they added boiled potatoes mixed with special masalas in their rolls, making the taste awesome. At that time, and even nowadays, other shops added only cucumber, onion and few sauces in their rolls. No wonder whosoever had tasted Beduin's rolls had praised them wholeheartedly. I, too, had heard it from my friends, and I had no difficulty in suggesting that we should get 3 egg rolls from Beduin.
Beduin was not a permanent shop situated in the market, but it was temporary stall near the footpath. As it was famous, there was quite a throng near it. We ordered 3 egg rolls, but there was already a queue, and we knew we had to wait. While we waited, we had been constantly jostled by the great crowd which gathered for puja shoppings. My father never liked hustle and bustle, so he gave mother the money and took me to a relatively less-crowded place. While we waited, we suddenly heard a scream from a womanly voice, and the voice seemed a bit familiar to me. I thought my dad, too, had the same line of thought as he asked, "Did your mom scream?"
We were just 10 meter away from Beduin, and it took no time for us to reach there. We asked mom whether she screamed, merely hoping that the sound came from somewhere else. But, when we looked at her face, it was full of tears, and she told us,
"It bit me. I am going to die."
Picture taken from net
Final part on next Saturday
A few years later, we went to the Gariahat market, which was renowned for being the best apparel market in West Bengal, for puja shopping. Durga puja is the carnival that the Bengalis enjoy most, and they save throughout the year to indulge in a shopping spree for this occasion. I didn't have much interest in buying clothes, but my main attraction for these going-outs was food. Being a gourmet, some people had sometimes accused me of a being a gormandizer, unjustly though, my sole concern was food. So, when we were done with buying my yellow baggy t-shirt and blue jeans, I lost all interest in the purchase of my parents' clothes.
It didn't take much time to buy my father's attire, but my mother, being very finicky about her dresses, took eons to choose her saris. She visited two renowned shops without much success, and eventually we were in the third shop. By that time, it felt like angry rats were marching in my stomach, and even each second passed seemed epochs to me. I was praying to God to end my ordeal soon. My father, too, had had enough, and when he pressed her to choose from that prestigious shop and that too quickly, finally, she had to submit, but with a lot of grudges. She wanted to see more. Father consoled her by saying that he would bring her here in Christmas again.
At last, we came out of the shop, and my father asked me the question which I had been longing to hear. It was about the food, but he told me to choose something that would not take long to prepare, as it was by then quite late. I had had heard of a food shop named Beduin, which was famous for its rolls. It was famous because their cuisine was exquisite: they added boiled potatoes mixed with special masalas in their rolls, making the taste awesome. At that time, and even nowadays, other shops added only cucumber, onion and few sauces in their rolls. No wonder whosoever had tasted Beduin's rolls had praised them wholeheartedly. I, too, had heard it from my friends, and I had no difficulty in suggesting that we should get 3 egg rolls from Beduin.
Beduin was not a permanent shop situated in the market, but it was temporary stall near the footpath. As it was famous, there was quite a throng near it. We ordered 3 egg rolls, but there was already a queue, and we knew we had to wait. While we waited, we had been constantly jostled by the great crowd which gathered for puja shoppings. My father never liked hustle and bustle, so he gave mother the money and took me to a relatively less-crowded place. While we waited, we suddenly heard a scream from a womanly voice, and the voice seemed a bit familiar to me. I thought my dad, too, had the same line of thought as he asked, "Did your mom scream?"
We were just 10 meter away from Beduin, and it took no time for us to reach there. We asked mom whether she screamed, merely hoping that the sound came from somewhere else. But, when we looked at her face, it was full of tears, and she told us,
"It bit me. I am going to die."
Picture taken from net
Final part on next Saturday
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