Woes of Tom

Tom, the cat gently opened his eyes, disturbed by a rooster’s call. He wondered when that rooster will understand that his services have been taken over by different kinds of wake-up alarms, at any time of day or night and on demand! Having woken up, he exited into the garden to welcome his personal day. He liked to watch the breaking streaks of dawn taking its tentative steps towards early morning.

With a fresh mind, he decided to start on a quest to find out his origin and trek back to the realm of his ancestors. Munching on a few blades of succulent grass, he closed his eyes, as he had often seen the master of house doing likewise and waited for a spark to ignite. A sharp pain broke the reverie – in place of stalk of grass he had bitten into the edge of his tongue. Besides the pain, his immediate worry settled on the discomfort to bear, while eating his next meal.

As if on cue, the front door opened and the master of the house rushed out, loudly streaming a barrage of instructions of dos and don’ts, before leaving for office. Though disturbing, this announced the likelihood of him getting breakfast, now. The master did not like Tom hovering around the dining table. Curious to know the items on the breakfast menu, he got up, stretched to his full length to shed the laziness. He ambled along the path to backyard, his preferred entry point. 

After gaining entry, straightaway he walked to the dining table, and saw the food bowl waiting in the usual place. No one was around, though it did not surprise or bother him. He could hear snatches of conversation and muffled musical notes from somewhere in the house.  He finished eating, glanced around once, and then departed to his station, in the garden via the backdoor.

With nothing worthwhile to do, he continued the task of tracing his ancestry. Somewhere in his brain, a hazy memory of tiny bodies snuggling around a warm bigger body, to which he could nuzzle to and feed popped up. He could vaguely remember being jostled by other tiny bodies, vying for the same treat from the same source. Now and then he experienced being clutched, lifted and displaced to another nook or dark corner. Yet the bigger body was always around, taking care of his hunger and warmth.  When he could see his world with his own eyes, he understood that the bigger body was the provider and protector and other tiny beings like him were her charge.

Then, one day he did the unthinkable. Lured by another kitten playing alone, he just wandered away from his dwelling. He ambled over, joined and started to scamper along, unmindful of the implications. He lost track of time and geography. He stood confused, in the gathering darkness. Hunger and fright twisted combined knots in his stomach. He was forced to search for a shelter. When the kitten saw an inviting gap in the front gate of a building, the solution presented itself and without hesitation he took it.  His pitiful meows did not reach and rouse any soul residing in the house. Shivering in fear and cold, he huddled close to a step.

His nightmare ended, as the sun rose in the morning and a pair of hands gently lifted him up. The radiating human warmth was comforting, yet the fear of unknown made him continue to shiver. The gentle stroking of the hands and soothing voice of his saviour gradually put him at ease. Only then, he opened his eyes to gaze at the face.  A few moments later, some more voices, one loud and questioning and others gently admonishing fell into his ears. Yet to get to know the family, his survival instincts switched to active mode to capture and store their physical form and associated voices. He thought this could be useful to identify and adjust, once inside the house. Even to this date, he could not understand why his saviour named him Tom! 

With passing days, he picked up the courage to wander in and out of the house to familiarise and meld with his surroundings. He had managed to identify the friendlies and frenemies, in the house. To increase the odds of acceptance and thereby his survival, he perfected “cat’s skills” – catching tail, and performing hop, skip, jump and other somersault routines, on any surface. He particularly liked the exhilarating thrill of walking along the edge of a crockery laden table and much more…

Initially as a kitten he yearned for their love and protection but as he aged, his personal space started shrinking, within the house. He liked tranquility as a way of life and went out of harm’s ways to ensure it remained so. He liked the house where he lived solely for the reason it had free space around it to roam around, take naps and at times hide from the frenemies residing inside. Effective and simple – he became a N P I G (Non-Paying Invited Guest), in his mind. When he shared this technique and the benefits of unfettered freedom under this status with another cat, living next door. The other cat not being the brightest bulb in the ceiling, shook its head and left in confusion, with tail tucked in between its hind legs.

The friendly residents started noticing the gradual changes in Tom’s behaviour, who was once an adorable kitten! They reminisced of the times when he would enthrall them with his antics – skating, scooting, grandstanding and swishing the tail like a warrior’s sword. Playing to the gallery, Tom became more energetic in the presence of visitors as if they were the perfect audience for staging his acts. This consummate actor had effectively fooled the residents from noticing the subtle changes happening over many weeks. He preferred outdoors to indoors and solitude to company. 

Tom lay watching the sun climbing overhead and asked himself why the mid-day sun always made him feel sweaty. Though he had options to snooze under the shade of the sit out or under the bunch of shrubs in the garden. He mused, what is life without a little grumbling now and then?  And why to snooze away on empty stomach when lunch time is round the corner?

Little did he know that this day would turn out to be a disastrous one for him. As usual, entering through the back door and kitchen he reached the dining hall. He neither saw anyone nor his plate with lunch. Perplexed, he walked around in search of a clue. Bit by curiosity, he cautiously tip-toed into the interior portions of the house, where he had been strictly denied access for any reason whatsoever. His ears picked up snatches of conversation, in a room behind a slightly open door. Having come this far into forbidden territory, he was dying to know why and on what?

As Tom's whiskers passed through the gap, the door was suddenly pushed open, stopping his heart-pump at mid stroke. A stranger in dazzling clothes came out. The unruly hair on his head looked like an overflowing bin, and beard resembled an overfilled beehive. The forehead had a zebra crossing drawn in multi colours. Long chains, of coloured beads, dangled from the neck to complete the get up, fit to frighten even the ghosts. Tom froze in his tracks and the stranger stared back at him with a withering look, as if to fry him alive. Shaken to the core, Tom beat a hasty retreat and disappeared in to the garden forgoing his lunch. He chided his memory for having catalogued these objects, colours and patterns, as an idle curiosity.

Hours elapsed but his mind did not thaw out from the fear of unknown. Little did he realise that ominous signals have started to blink at him. His erstwhile saviour, who many months ago had rescued and sheltered him, emerged from the house carrying food and water bowls and set them near the front entrance. Tom not a fan of starving diets, looked in askance at the bowls and decided to have a go at it. His saviour sat glancing at him with worried looks. The cat edged closer and meowed but his saviour, who normally used to cuddle and scratch him, sat still without showing usual reaction. Ominous signal number two just came on. Soon, subdued voices were discussing something from behind the scenes and the cat sensed it could be the signal number three but could not guess how many more signals are due and where these signals will lead him to. 

As it transpired, he did not have to wait for long. All of a sudden, his world became dark. He was lifted, shoved into a bag and loaded on to a mobike, for an onward journey to an unknown destination. After travelling a long way from home, he was unceremoniously abandoned at the foot of a garbage mountain. Before he could get his bearings, his packers and movers left the scene, without even a goodbye.

For all his guile, there was no way Tom could fathom the genesis of the 'operation eviction' from his erstwhile domain. Unbeknownst to him, the pincer movement was initiated by the bearded man in dazzling attire, whose path Tom happened to cross, unwittingly, on that fateful day. The man was at his wits end, as all his astrological solutions fell into deaf ears of the planets, dwarf planets in the solar system and as well as the demigods and gods of all hues and colour. 

No heavenly signs appeared, in the sky assuring to mitigate the sufferings and hardships of the family. Reputation about to hit rock bottom, he desperately tried to clutch at any non-existent straws. A eureka moment dawned in his befuddled mind, offering a little wriggle room. He blamed the cat in the house, as a way out. He hoped that this move could even kill the mouse of his failing predictions. The family members not having any other option, agreed to give the unsympathetic gods and un-cooperative planets another chance. They hurriedly held a conclave to find ways to bundle out the cat from the house.  forgetting it was one of them who opened the doors, a while ago, to let him in.

He wondered how the family could forget that they had willingly admitted him into their life! His cunning intelligence and courage took leave and fear of unknown filled that space like a balloon filled to the bursting point. Unsure of his geography, he shelved any notion of finding his way back into that household, however insulting they could become. Had he not always made the best use of presenting circumstances? Emboldened a little, he surveyed his surroundings with a clear vision. He located a dilapidated wall proudly displaying a sheltered hole and chose it as his residence. Food, surely beyond use by date, was available in plenty. Though, occasionally an overgrown rat came by to look at him from a distance. The cat and mouse game did not last long, as Tom showed no interest in chasing a rat.

He once again tried, unsuccessfully, to restart the quest of tracing his roots but instead decided to dwell upon the recent happenings that transplanted him to this dumping ground. Simply, there was no way he could have understood the moves initiated by the bearded man and the why? In what way a cat crossing a human's path is different from crossing across a road?  How he could have guessed that it was a conspiracy by that man to find a scape goat? How he could have prevented the family members, from deciding to give one more chance to the unsympathetic and un-cooperative gods, demi-gods and malefic planets? Are they not gullible, cruel and guilty to blame and banish a cat who had no power whatsoever to cast misery upon anyone? The hows and whys made him drowsy, but before falling asleep he avowed to find clarity, at least in sleep.

Here, Imaginch as Tom's biographer wanted to place some clarifications on record. 

How could he be the spokesperson as cats are not known to converse with people? Yes, but the tonal inflections, pitch, frequency and other sound making tools leave lot of clues, can be transcribed into words!

OK, how about the feelings and introspections attributed to the cat? The answer is, if one can empathise and think like what a cat would do and has an intimate friendship with any other kitten or cat, it is possible!