Our story begins in an ordinary
household, on an average street with a very average family comprising of Appa,
Amma and Lacchu (as Laxmi was lovingly called) somewhere in the hinterlands of
Maharashtra. Appa was the village postmaster, Amma was an average middle class
housewife who boasts of the glory days before she chose to marry Appa and
Lacchu was a 15 year old (almost 16 if you heard her talk) who dreamt of high
school and becoming a robotics engineer in secret.
But this isn’t Lacchus’ story…
this is Senapatis’ chronicles as Lacchu would have you believe. One day on her
walk to school as usual she had to cross the little log bridge to get to across
a stream along the path. She heard the hissing of a snake. Her curiosity stopped her where fear did not…
why would a snake be in a running stream under a log bridge hissing?? Her
instinctive fear of all things that are creepy crawly and slithery were put
aside by the simple logic of a child in transition.
Lacchu nimbly hiked up her skirt
to above the water line as she deftly snuck under the bridge only to find a wet
squirming hissing sack snagged on a rock. On closer examination she found me
within, a few weeks old Calico Tom cat with a black patch over the right eye.
Yes you read right, Calico and Male, a one in three thousand occurrence, a
rarity of the rarest form and yet here I was soaking or rather drowning wet in
a sack dragged back from near death by a bewildered looking yet amused child.
The eyes of the girl child met
the eyes of scared yet feisty kitty. “Hisss” went the wee feline where most
would go “Mewww”, not knowing whether to put on an air of defiance or a mask of
anxiety for being molly coddled by a stranger. That however soon melted into
the “hisss” of relief and comfort, instead of “purrr”, when warmth was
enveloped with more warmth. Lacchu too was quick to take on the role of sss-mothering
me.
She scooped me up and warmed me
with her embrace and tender caress. I could have just died just then simply
from the pleasure of human affection after that near death as a result of human
cruelty. Not that we need humans, for we cats are an independent bunch. We live
and die on our own terms. But she called out to me as if by instinct “SENAPATI”,
like I yearned for that someone who does not exist.
We cats are a strange lot, we
were free but chose domestication and we were even worshipped as gods. Our 9 lives
ensure intermittent longevity and yet we bind ourselves each life to a human.
Equipped with all the prowess of our wild kin we could go feral, but then those
neck, back and belly rubs would be sorely missed. With each life we get a bit
more sentient. This was probably my 7th or 8th life,
maybe even the last. With no memories of past lives or death, Lacchu was my new
mom, companion, playmate, maid-servant, and kin.
We were inseparable from day one
(3 years now). Senapati went where Lacchu went, Senapati also went where
Senapati wanted, which was everywhere that Amma did not want him to be. Amma
shared a love hate relationship with the cat. She considered him a nuisance and
bad luck. Male cats are not supposed to look like that or sound like that she
would say. Oh Yes, I forgot to mention.. I was born almost mute. It meant that
I couldn’t make any other sounds than a “Hissss”.
My ninja like reflexes, my silent
ability to meld into the shadows and pop out of anywhere were needless to say
unappreciated. My endless and dedicated service in ridding her hearth of field
mice, rats, frogs, bugs and lizards went unnoticed. I would hiss to warn her
but that would just freak her out even more. But a Senapati never complains or
shirks his duty. My vigil lasted through the nights and ends only at the crack
of dawn, unlike the village night watchman who would bang once at the fences
and then go settle to sleep under a tree or sometimes sneak into Major Mathurs’
home for a nightcap.
One day Lacchus’ Amma declared,
“Appa, It is time to marry her off, Ashraf bhai next door has married off his
Amina and she is a whole year or two younger.” Appa responded half-heartedly,
“What is the rush she is just a child and wants to study?? Amina was only 16
but then that is their way.” Amma retorted, “You married me when I was 16,
there is a time and place for such things. What will she do with an education?
It will simply mean a larger dowry.”
Lacchu smirked and replied,
“Amma, I don’t need a dowry, and I won’t marry till I am done studying and
become a postal service employee and then when I marry I will just take
Senapati with me.” Amma replied, “That is not the place of a girl from a good
family. I should have listened to my Appa and Amma. If I did I would have been
the wife of the village Baniya instead and then maybe you might have found a
suitor quicker. Your father is a post master and yes he does earn respect but
respect cannot replace money.”
Now about Lacchu, she had grown
into a a wonderful human-ling. Standing tall at 5”3 she towered above me. Her
skin was the colour of wild honey and her eyes had the depth and mirth of a
clear night sky twinkling with the stars of hope, ambition, and dreams. Lacchu
went from a lean 15 year old to a modestly shapely yet homely girl at 18. Her
soft warm tummy that rose and fell ever so slightly when she slept was my bed. What
she lacked in human looks she more than made up for in character. As she
bloomed, her kindness, warmth and compassion made her desirable in more ways
than one.
However that was not the sum of
who she was, her dexterity with numbers, her aptitude and eye for details and
her sharp yet kindly wit and memory made her an adversary and equal for any
man. Plus she could cook. None of these things thought are noted or valued by
the humans who saw her as a female, a child bearer, a home maker and a
potential burden. Fortune smiled on her for she was an only child so she was
allowed to bloom, lacking neither in nutrition or love and at least let her attain
her high school certificate. They told her she could continue studying once she
was settled down.
I, Senapati however could smell
her apprehensions, I could hear the whispers of her parents or when they spoke
to others about how they wanted her settled so they could rest easy. About how
she was their torch bearer as their only child and getting her wed would lower
their burden and ease their concern of her well-being once they were no longer
around. I could sense the compromise being reached within Lacchu as she
resigned herself to fate and accepted the adjustment that an education would be
the same and could wait. She did not have to say anything, her sagging
shoulders, muted demeanor and silent sighs said it all.
Six months later the big day
came, Lacchu a.k.a. Rajalaxmi Godbole married Chimteya a.k.a. Atulya Saukar. If
you are wondering about Atulyas’ nickname, he was a 25 year old electrician and
that too with MSEB. In fact he was the only electrician around for 3 whole
villages so he was kind of important. Atulya seemed nice enough initially, I
did not think much of him and he seemed tolerant of me seeing as I was favored
by Lacchu. He was ok with her taking me along to his home on top of a hillock.
The house itself was modest, lacking the touch of a woman it was pretty much a
man cave, meaning sparsely furnished and simply inadequate for family life.
The new place came with new
smells, sights and learning. Both Lacchu and I were on the job adjusting,
assimilating and absorbing in all the newness till it felt familiar.
Occasionally when she felt pangs of loneliness and distress she would cry. I
would muzzle up to her and she would take me into her arms and cradle me. I was
the reminder of home and yet here I was at home with her making a new one.
Chimteya would go to work 6 days a week, heading off at 5 am and his return
would vary from 6 pm to midnight depending on how much he worked or how much he
earned.
Being the only electrician for 3
villages ensured that over and above the monthly salary he made a handsome
killing as people vied for his time and attention. Being a farming community,
his work was endless and would at times start earlier than the cocks’ crow. ‘Bakshish’
they called it when they gifted him with cash and kind. At first he would in
embarrassment refuse it but then it was a tradition and now he was a family
man.
The good in Chimteya ensured he
never over charged or asked in excess of what his professional service
demanded, however there were other things other than cash that moves a man. If
earning were good or work was hard he would come home smelling like decomposing
fish all sweaty, musky and smelling of something awful that even a street cat
would not touch.
If he walked in tired and happy I
could hear Lacchus’ heart skip a beat and then beat harder and faster as she
took to doing all that was expected of a good wife. If he walked in smelling of
that awful something and annoyed I could sense her hold her breath, her heart
skip a beat and her welling anxiety for his well-being as she bit down on her lower
lip and got to playing dutiful wife. Lost was the ambitious inquisitive Lacchu
from 3 years ago.
As months passed and the routine
became rote learning, Lacchu found herself again free to think, free to
explore, free to learn. She hinted at wanting to study to Chimteya would either
laugh or say do it next year. Once I heard him complain of the same under his
breath to a friend while Lacchu toiled away in her refuge right next to her
chulha. Friends’ advice “Idle mind is the devils workshop, give her a baby to
play with and care for. That will keep her busy all day.” Chimteya went, “Hmmm”.
Two years had passed…
Lacchu had not got pregnant as
Chimteya had hoped, despite his ardent and rigorous effort. As village life has
it, people began to talk… family and friends began to ask. Chimteya was
pressured to prove his manhood, Lacchus fertility was questioned, family
expressed their desire for a grandchild, friends who cradled their own rubbed
it in with visits. Lacchu now had fully given up her modest dreams of education
and independence. She would still hold Senapati but her caress and touch seemed
distant and distracted. Her fingers lacked the vigour and warmth they once held
as she stroked his back pensively.
Lacchu wanted to go see a doctor
and they did. The doctor advised a fertility test and visit to the city
government hospital to see a fertility specialist. Chimteya was opposed to the
idea, he said, “City doctors are out to loot with tests and would not
understand the stress I am in”. His work, his family, his friends… all were
adding to it. He would come home sometimes smelling more vile than usual and it
started to get more frequent. One night he yelled at Lacchu for not putting
enough salt in the fish curry, and when I hissed he threw a steel tumbler at
me.
Words slowly poured out of him
like vitriol, sometimes in self-pity, sometimes in frustration and sometimes in
anger that he chose to marry such a ‘useless’ girl. Obviously it was her fault
for not trying hard enough to get pregnant. He had even listened to his friends
and took to trying herbal remedies and getting rougher with her to get what he
wanted. He had to prove his manhood… even if it meant her pain. As Chimteya
became more of a rogue, Lacchu demurred and obscured into nothingness. She got
more silent as being vocal just got her hurt more. She felt… “Maybe it is my
fault, but what can I do? Once I have a baby it will be all ok.”
Finally, the symptoms were all
there, tests done locally proved it too and every time I, Senapati, took my
place on Lacchus tummy during her midday nap I could sense and feel the changes
within her. She was pregnant. Chimteyas’ demeanor towards her was almost like
Jekyll to the earlier Hyde. He showered her with love and affection. Family
congratulated them, friends felicitated them and life almost came a full circle..
almost. The whispers began again… “What if the child was not a boy? What if it
was a girl? What if it was not his?”
You ask why would anyone think
that? Chimteya worked till late, Lacchu was young and beautiful (in a homely
way) and they did not have a child in 5 years of marriage. Was anyone seen
frequenting his house? And simply because this was how some people in villages
spent their idle time.. in gossip. Doubt gnawed at him, the demons of desire
for a boy child took root, questions of Lacchus’ fidelity and capacity to bear
him a son wrestled with images of her glowing impish lovable face. Since he
could not dare ask her all that sober he did what came naturally… he drank like
a fish and he drank till he stank and he drank till he lost his balance both
mentally and physically.
A few weeks down, he tried to
take her to a doctor in the big city to get checked. That too he took her to a
private nursing home and not a hospital, for he wanted to know if the child
that was growing within her was male and if IT was his. He wanted that child to
validate his masculinity and prowess. Some part of Lacchu meekly followed,
while another part of her mind wondered why a city doctor was now more trust
worthy and how they would afford it all. I, however did not get to go but could
sense her anxiety, his ego riddled ego trip and their departure from normality.
One thing cats, especially rare
Calico Toms can do in their later day lives is empathize. We do not show it but
we share a bond beyond mere touch with our human-lings and in this bond a
strange mental bridge is formed that maybe breached in the dream state. It is
rare because nocturnal feline instinct never matches diurnal human instinct in
terms of sleep. But as she grew gravid and her maternal instincts kicked in and
sleep patterns shifted the feline met the human in ways the human mind cannot
perceive.
I could basically walk and talk
in her dreams, I could hear her, I could hear her unborn child… she was Ruhani,
Roo for short. I heard Chimteya speak of doing away with Roo, but then so did
Lacchu and Roo and half the neighbourhood. In his belligerent stinking outburst
of shattered ego bubbles he gushed forth with abuse and curses with the
proclivity of a dog regurgitating a bad meal. I could feel the child inside
Lacchu cringe every time he shouted or reached to manhandle her. Not just the
child in her womb but also the child in her heart and mind.
“Daughters are burdens”,
“Daughters are inferior to sons, “Daughters can never be what a son can” were
the words that played to the rhythm of her heart beat in her dreams. I,
Senapati, could not fathom why. “Were they not from the same species? Are they
not equal? Could humanity propagate and progress without daughters?” I argued
with Lacchus’ dream self. I gave her pride and strength, I gave her voice where
I lacked one and where she lacked the will I gave her my own.
One night in a drunken fit,
incensed by the burning jibes by drinking buddies Chimteya approached Lacchu
with an almost empty beer bottle in hand and the look of dead man in his eyes.
He yelled at her and lunged with his foot to kick her in her swollen belly
barely able to stand on his own two. Cats are not known for their loyalty, but
on rare occasion they display a nimble valor and viciousness that far surpasses
any canine. I kicked off a shelf landing square in his face, hissing, claws
extended right into his open blood shot eyes as Lacchu cowered from his
posturing with her hands not over her face but cradling her belly. Lacchu
screamed, so did Chimteya and I hissed.
The sickly aroma of blood, sweat,
putrid fermented bile erupted from Chimteya as he fell backward and his wary
foot knocked Lacchu in the face barely grazing past her rotundous belly. She
sank to the floor in shock and passed out. He ran. She opened her bleary eyes
when the cat, all seven pounds of squirming flesh, climbed onto her belly.
Squinting into the sunlight streaming in from the open window, she discovered
that she was now the weary possessor of a pounding headache, and at some point,
had managed to lose both a tooth and a spouse. But she had Roo, Senapati and a
renewed determination to be the woman she set out to six years ago.
