Early morning rituals

Each morning 
before I fix my cup of coffee
I walk to the litter tray. 

Scooper in one hand, plastic bag in the other, 
I sift through the gravel and deposit 
little droppings of cat scat into the bag

All this to make sure that yesterday’s shit
goes out with today’s garbage.

And while this ensues, 
the feline devils watch me
even as I gag.

What a blessed life they think, 
to not have to take out the garbage. 

Then there are the fat cats that run around my parents 
in their lovely tea estate home 
The world is their toilet.

Find your way home, Pip!

What I feel now is immense grief. At the loss of a cat we fostered for 4 months. Though I was sending Pip home to my parents where she would have ample space to flourish in, I was extremely apprehensive about it. My last few days with her, I'd talk to her citing my old school countdown - 5 more days for you to leave, 4 more days before you're parted from your brothers/lovers, 3 more days till I hear you purr and the like. And it was like she knew that she was going. The last 2 days with us, she was most affectionate. She cuddled and purred and came tunnelling through the sheets like the creature from Tremors. Or maybe she always did... 

Last night, the boys were restless - more so than ever. It was really windy and that made them skittish. They probably missed her too. With no S at home, Saki came and lay down on my lap, which he hadn’t done in a  while. On any other day, the three of them would be sleeping on the window sill, with her suckling on one of their paw pads. She really was the sweetest, with her pinker than pink paws and nose. 

Now I wish I hadn’t packed her off at all. Despite the space she would have had in her new home, despite how much less poop I would have to clear from the litter box every day, despite me thinking that the Bombay house that we were moving into (but hadn’t yet found) in 6 months, would be too small for 3 cats. I wish I'd kept her and not let her go. 

We picked her up off the street thinking she had been run over. She had run across the road, and smashed her face on the footpath. Just picking her up from the tailoring shop she ran into was traumatic. She was a wild one. Only 2 months, but oh so feisty! The scars I picked up that day are only fading now.

For the first week, we kept her confined to one room of the house. While I was out on a work trip, S looked after her. She must have thought he was torturing her. Trying to pin her down each time she needed to have her medicines. Try and hold her, and she would squirm like you were out to kill her. The last time I took her to the vet to get her shots, and get her declawed, she was a little nightmare. In her attempt to escape, she clawed her way down to my foot. I'm left with some prize scars from that day as well. 

It took her almost 4 months to start loving us. At first, she hated everything... me, S, the cats, any sound... She slowly started making herself at home. She decided that the best places to pee were either the laundry bin with extremely dirty clothes or a pile of fresh laundry. She turned out to be the only one of the three who didn’t flee at the sound of the doorbell. Of late, she would be the first to venture out, when there were guests at home. She would decide to be a spectator in my bathroom. Her little toy mouse, she would play with, like the world would come to a standstill if she stopped. She learned by emulating her brothers - any time they came and rubbed themselves for love, she would too. And I was a fool to send her off. This creature who never let me carry her, would purr so loudly each time I ran a fingertip down her spine.

My mum said that she wouldn’t be able to guarantee her safety; in terms of, "I cannot assure you that she'll stay at home". She would be loved, she would be fed, and she'd be an inside cat - provided she didn’t run off at the very beginning. And that should have been a red flag. We even considered heading home to drop her off till she settled in. A fleeting thought it was; I wish I'd taken heed. 

And so my parents arrived home with Pip in tow yesterday. She had apparently responded to my mum and purred like a little motor when she had tried petting her on the way home. Once she was let out at home, she ran off the minute they opened her box. Turns out she was hiding in some corner of the kitchen. At night, she was confined to 4 rooms, with all the windows shut. It was not to be though. By morning, she had slipped out again, leaving no trace. My mum last saw her in the guest bathroom, but she fled as soon as my mum said hello. The only upside that it looked as if she had come in from outside; perhaps she knows that she can come into the house.

And now, she's on this big estate without a clue as to where she is. Her brothers are not around; instead, there's a big fat cat who may or may not like her. And her parents, who loved her and fed her, gave her away to someplace far, far away. She does not trust the new people in the house. And it’s raining like the world is trying to drown itself.

I don’t know if she’s eaten. I don’t know if she’s inside or outside. I don’t know if she drenched in the rain or if she's been smart enough to find shelter. But I do hope she knows she is in a safe place - she only has to find her way in. 

My Pippat, please be safe, please be fine. I'm so sorry for putting you through what I have. I miss you terribly and really hope you find your way back home. 

Animalia

One of the things I really enjoyed doing on my trip to Kashmir was taking pictures of all the animals that we came across. From majestic horses to pot-bellied marmots to birds I couldn't identify to random strays, I was in awe of everything. Here are some of the beauties I met. 

Gulab and Mehendi - Gulmarg

Horses - Gulmarg

Ducks in the water - Nagin Lake, Srinagar

Dog at Tibetan Market - Leh

Oneandaf horned domestic cow - Leh

Goat - Turtuk

Magpies on a wire - Turtuk 

Bactrian Camel - Nubra Valley

Himalayan Marmots - Near Pangong Lake 

Horses - Near Pangong Lake

Duck - Pangong Lake

Surprised Cat - Jalianwalla Bagh, Amritsar

Chingum Menagerie

My latest assignment on the Venture Labs course on creativity was with chewing gum. We had to find an alternate use for chewing gum. It was certainly difficult for me to think from a new business point of view, so I applied a more creative aspect to it. In the process, I also figured that I am blessed with more creative skills than I credit myself with. 

I made a bunch of animal faces with various types of chewing gum. These I think will make for a lovely gift to an animal loving, sweet toothed friend or as illustrations for a picture book for children. I used them as "An ode to poetry in chewing gum" (mostly to Ogden Nash). 

The Dog 

The truth I do not stretch or shove

When I state that the dog is full of love. 

I've also found, by actual test,

A wet dog is the lovingest.

- by Ogden Nash

The Pig

The pig, if I am not mistaken, 

Supplies us sausage, ham and bacon, 

Let others say his heart is big-- 

I call it stupid of the pig. 

- by Ogden Nash

And here's the rest of my gum menagerie.  

The Rabbit

The Octopus/Spider

The Cat

The Fish

This was so, so, so much fun! I really had a ball. My favourites are the dog and the fish. I also tried making a snake and failed miserably, and I proceeded to eat it. :)

Just in case you want to try this out yourself, here's some info.

Things you'll need:

• Chewing gum in different colours and shapes. I used Big Babol (yes, it still is manufactured and it's still not yum ), Wrigley's Spearmint, Orbit and Mentos (not really gum, but certainly chewy)
• Thin tipped markers for drawing out features
• Rolling or cutting board to roll out the gum on
• Knife 

Word of advice, don't chew the gum before you work with it. While it becomes soft and pliable, it is extremely sticky and quite a task to scrape off your hands. It's also gross!

Animal Spotting

The forest plays tricks on your mind. Especially when you are driving through with the anticipation that you might spot some wild animal in its natural habitat. A fallen bark looks like a gaur that is lying down. A rock in the distance resembles an elephant. If someone convinces you enough, you'll swear that you could see the ear move. The ant hives on the branches of tress; they become small animals sitting high up. Maybe the Giant Malabar Squirrel. But no, this one's still. You cannot see the fiery orange tail flit between the branches. 

Whether I see any animals or not, I still like driving through the forest. The trees make for a pretty sight. Yes, you do feel exultant if you can rattle off a number of species that you have spotted when you get out of the forest. But even if you don't, you have still seen them all in your head. And they will be waiting for you the next time you go back as well. 

And since I am feeling exultant at this point, I will make a list. 

• Elephants -  at least 10
• Chital/Spotted Deer - 3 herds
• Monkeys - many, many, many
• Peahen - 1
• Giant Malabar Squirrel - 1 
• Gaur - 1 + 5

Also, in case you saw only the trees, HAH! 

Much love,

Ganga

Bee in my bonnet

There's a bee harassing me
Donning a black and yellow jacket
Armed with a sting 
My hair's on end and I can't stay in the same room as him

Go bee, go
Live your life outside my window
I have Apiphobia 
And I won't be held responsible for my actions

Hunter

For the past couple of months, considering I want to be a writer, I've been thinking about writing   about something besides myself. Articles on topics that interest me, non-fiction, poetry maybe? I wasn't really sure where to start. Then opportunity presented itself, and a friend suggested I join the Write Club, a bunch of people who meet  every week to write. This was a chance to actually write about something apart from the sordid details of my life. 

I went for my first ever Write Club meetup in Bangalore a couple of days back. The topic of the meetup was Hint Fiction or Short Short Stories. Hint Fiction is a story of 25 words or less that suggests a larger, more complex story. The story is supposed to get the reader to imagine what is left unsaid. The most famous one is probably by Earnest Hemingway. It is said that he won a bet where he had to come up with a story in six words. So came about “For Sale, Baby Shoes, Never Worn".

We were given 2 exercises - writing a hint story and building a larger story from the first. So here I have documented my first attempts at writing that something else. Of course, like everyone else, I too did have a go at 'Composition' during school time - it was in fact my favourite part of the English Language paper. I even remember getting a 25 on 25 (NERD!!!!!) for one of them, titled Yearning - the story of an unborn child. In retrospect, I wonder why I chose a subject so morbid... So yeah, back to my first attempts at writing that something else.

Exercise 1: 

The man followed the trail - hoof marks and scat. It turned a corner and disappeared behind a bush. As he flew through the air, he thought to himself, "That damn buffalo."

Exercise 2: 

There was hardly a sound; except for the mating call of a yellow beaked bird. The jungle was still, the leaves on the trees barely stirring. If one listened carefully, one could discern the footfall of the man, the rustle of his clothes and the crack as a twig snapped beneath his foot. 

The man continued on the trail - following the hoof marks and scat. He picked up a brown pellet off the ground. It was still warm, fresh. The trail turned a corner, disappearing behind a bush, not really a trail anymore.  

The man paused; a premonition that in a moment or two, his destiny would change. Thirty thousand dollars. That was what was promised in exchange for the bulls head on a trophy. A new rifle, new boots and then some. Thirty thousand dollars would also buy him a ticket, a new lease at life.This would be the last time. The man shook his head as if to banish his thoughts and deal with the matter at hand. 

It would only be a few more minutes. Just as he cocked the rifle, the wind was knocked out of him. He flew through the air and landed seven feet away.  "That damn beast", he thought before it lifted him once again and flung him further away, then proceeding to trample him. He was one with the earth now. One last thought flickered through his mind as he breathed his last, "The hunter has become the hunted."

Don't think it's really good, but it's a start. And it's not bad either. Hah! Will try more of this. 

Two last things, 

1) When Roald Dahl said, "You never know when a lovely idea is going to flit suddenly into your mind, but by golly, when it does come along, you grab it with both hands and hang on to it tight. The trick is to write it down at once, otherwise you'll forget it.", he must have meant getting inspired by Hint Fiction. 

2) Woody Allen too writes some semblance of it. My favourite one is from his book "Without Feathers", a piece called "A Day in the Life of a Doe" from the chapter Lesser Known Ballets. So it goes like this "Unbearably lovely music is heard as the curtain rises, and we see the woods on a summer afternoon. A fawn dances on and nibbles slowly at some leaves. He drifts lazily through the soft foliage. Soon he starts coughing and drops dead." I love it!

And splat goes the mosquito!

Before I proceed, I must inform you of the following.

a) I love most creatures that make up the animal/bird/bug kingdom. Mosquitoes however are undeserving of my love.
b) This post is graphic. Many, many, many mosquitoes were harmed, tortured or killed during (and prior to) the making of this entry.

Mosquitoes have been a very wretched part of my life since my childhood. I have them to thank for the many, many scars that my otherwise sexy legs are riddled with. I believe they are fond of my blood. Even when standing in a group, they smell me out. They drink large quantities of my blood. They make that znzzznznznnznz noise around my head, yet stay invisible. And once darkness sets in, they are the bane of my life.

I've had enough! And I have now developed a thirst for their blood. Quid pro quo. And therefore this post. Also since I am such a thoughtful personality, always looking to save mankind, I must share tips on HOW TO KILL A MOSQUITO AND ENJOY DOING SO.


Method 1: Grabitty Grab

Grab the mosquito, as you would somebody's shirt collar when you're itching for a fight. One of the 3 things happen.
1) Your timing is a little off and it escapes. No worries.. life usually gives you many second chances. 
2) It gets smashed somewhere in that pretty hand of yours. Oh happiness and joy. 
3) If there is still some flicker of life left in it, hold it by a leg or a wing and pull out every other appendage. For best result, start with the legs and then proceed to the wings. 


Method 2: One tight slap!

Slap it how you would a creepy man or someone you loathe. Here as well, you are presented with two scenarios.
1) While it feasts on you. 
2) While it rests on a flat surface engorged by a mad feeding frenzy; one that has left you with an itch that certainly needs scratching. 

In both cases, it will most certainly leave a mess. But your appetite for destruction will be fed, for a while at least.



Method 3: Fried!

Find that that magical device called the Mosquito Swatter that's available on most city streets for as little as Rs. 150.  They come in bright colours, and if you're really lucky, the one you pick up might even have a mosquito motif on it.  Ensure you charged it well for best effects.

The minute you sense a mosquito invading your airspace, wave it over your head and everywhere else. It's alright if you miss it the first time, the second or the eighth even. The minute it makes contact with the bat, it's truly a treat for the senses. You see that pretty silver spark before you snuff the life out of it, you hear the crackle of it getting fried and an acrid smell fills the air - not really a pleasant one, but one very satisfying.

For a spectacular fireworks display, it would do you good to find a dark room where the mosquito and its mates roost. The kitchen is ideal. Switch on the light and dance away.


Method 4: The Clap

This method works best when you are wearing black and you have a little whirlwind of those infernal creatures flying over your head - open your palms and clap them just above your head. If you happen to make a killing (more than 3 nos mosquitoes with a single clap), wash your hands and then pat yourself on the back.

This also works when the whirlwind is over someone else's head. Two things here - you startle that someone else, but 100% satisfaction guaranteed.


Method 5: Protector of the Universe

When you see a friend in danger, quickly put on your superhero cape. The mosquito is likely to be poised to sit on the aforementioned friend's back or hair (really!). Your hand action should be similar to Tip 2, but much much gentler of course. You wouldn't want to hurt your friend, would you?

Word of advice here - Most people don't understand that they are required to express gratitude to you after this manoeuvre. They usually care only about themselves. They respond with one of the following. "Yuck, that's gross!" or "Oh no, my hair!" But fret not, secretly you know they are grateful. 


So yes, these are some of the ways in which you can save the planet, one (or more) pesky mosquito at a time.  In case you're wondering what brought about this act of selflessness and sharing, it was the Grabitty Grab! 

Toodles! 

The Sun Is Shining...