“See it is not that bad being what you are,” I told him. I usually get nods in reply and most of the times, that is all I get. I hardly understand nods.
“I always talk to you about my world and what happens to me, why don’t you?”
Guess what? He nodded again!
How I love our conversations. Sometimes about complete, random strangers. He is better than me in many ways. I always need a lotion of mosquito repellent while he doesn’t. I love the free spirit he has. He always fights when he is bothered. He may be smaller in size but he fights valiantly. I would love to believe that he understands the stories I tell him. I also try to be very poetic with him.
The other day, I was watching The Book Thief and he was lying by my side. “See this is how terrible times are narrated in a poetic way,” I told him. “It never stops, terrible times are cyclic. Jews replaced by ‘others’ ”.
He nodded again!
I observed all he needs me is for food. Otherwise, he’s pretty independent. It is in fact my selfishness that I have bound him with me. I knew him since his tender age. He always had that free spirit to fight and not give up.
“I learnt a few things from you!” I tell him.
Sometimes he tries to talk to me but he can’t speak. I wonder if he also wants to share his stories of terrible times. If he does, I want him to be poetic. He too doesn’t like TV much so I haven’t had one. He likes Nusrat, I guess. I made him listen to ‘Faiz’ one day.
He slept peacefully. Perhaps Iqbal Bano sang it way too well!
I named him ‘Ghalib’. How poetic of me! I couldn’t help. He too is rebellious like Ghalib.
Still, too big a name for five-month-old cat!
(At The Quint, we are answerable only to our audience. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member. Because the truth is worth it.)