Ode to Alladi

Dust covered moonlight still collects on the floor. Where bodies lied once, warm bodies and cold. Ignored, loved, adored, left alone, buried. There are footmarks too with moon dust, like the steps of the goddess Lokkhi; did she visit last night or was it her sister, did she also witness the happenings that were followed by the city shattering storm?

The Cat saw it all. Even the things which did not happen in front of her, she was aware of those. She knew of accidents in all parts of the country, political and nonpolitical killings, she knew of every bus that were burnt, she knew the inconstancies, and the growing uncertainty of this land. She knew of drunk drivers carrying people who she loved. She knew of trucks dangerously close, threatening to take lives and then letting go, dogs which were run over. She knew, and the knowing made her antsy.

The Cat, only four moths old, shed no tears for anyone. She didn't let all the knowledge get to her like others did. She had no qualms with people or God. She was not into food or things which were sweet, not even milk. Her life was not consumed with earthly worries. She was here to watch, so she did, sitting behind the netted veranda, where a piece of sunlight rested on her tail, unsuccessful at burning her, or making her tan.

The impatient people around did not understand her meows. No one around her spoke Cat, not even the other cats. She spoke in a dialect that was not from her world. And that's why she was misinterpreted, misunderstood. She thought about changing, learning new things, when she grew up, not now, now was too early and too late. This was not the time to learn things which did not come naturally.

But the Cat also knew, as things around got heavier and people on the streets stopped looking at the sun, that something was going to change. She knew the girl she lives with and protects, who was always busy trying to pinpoint the center of her soul, was affected, inflicted, wounded.

She knew lives had to be lost, more lives than what people call an average number of deaths. She knew that the Goddesses were not watching and shielding but were busy stepping into luxurious rooms and stealing glimpses in the mirrors, fixing their saris, the necklaces around their necks. She knew the sky was going to break, and she has to face the Thunder.

When the Thunder came early morning before sunrise, the Cat was ready for this meeting. She stood still staring at the crooked smiles of lightening, she spoke to Thunder in a low voice so that she doesn't wake the girl who slept in the inside room. The Thunder told her secrets that she did not want to know, things she could not carry. Terrible things, miserable truths. She asked Thunder and the 'mud-feeted' Goddesses to tell the fortunes of the Girl and of others who she saw and didn't see but loved. The Goddesses swung their blow-dried hair and wrapped themselves in raincoats, there was a first-pour-of-the-season-ball tonight and they did not want to be late.

The Thunder cackled and showed his ugly tobacco stained teeth to the Cat, and then he brought her near. With his bad breath he let out the fates of all into the Cat's ears. The Cat shook and shivered, the way it feels when you learn fear. She asked Thunder what she could do to change the fate of the world around her.  The Goddesses who were doing a last check on the shades of their lipsticks and eyeshadows looked down and said “an eye for an eye.”

The next night, less than 24 hours since the Thunder's conversation with the Cat, the Cat lied on the floor where the Goddesses also rested after a long night of dancing. The Cat moved her lips and prayed for the girl and other girls and boys who she never met. She gave her body, her useless little body to the earth, and her soul became a part of the shrinking bank of positivity, a sacrifice to Thunder and fickle distracted Goddesses, and for the future, stiff and cold.