Rains in Bengal make you feel like someone opened the tap and forget to close it. It goes on endlessly throughout the day. No one likes to go out in such a weather leaving the comfort of home. Even the cats. So, one day, Junglee needed to pee and could not go out. He was waiting at the entrance looking at the rain. I had to get something from the garden and took an umbrella and steeped out in the rain. Junglee came running along with me under the umbrella. I held the umbrella while His Highness finished his urgent call of nature and then again brought him back- safe and dry. He licked my fingers as a mark of gratefulness.

Junglee always believed that he was a far more superior species than the dumb humans around him. He believed that we had the honor of him staying with us as an outcome of some good deeds that we had done in our past lives. He always lived life king size. He was very moody and since he was the first cat in our family, he was also quite pampered. I never regarded him as a pet. Since I was an only child, I always addressed him as my li’l naughty brother. I never felt the need for a sibling because he was always with me. I had a separate study room – which was completely my world. No adults were allowed there. Only Junglee was allowed. There was a sofa in my room. He used to climb up on it after lunch for his afternoon nap. Then he used to begin his marathon licking. Cats like to be clean always and Junglee was extremely particular about the way he looked. Sometimes, I used to take him in my lap for cuddling. But, finally, I used to give up bored and frustrated with his never ending grooming. My legs would start aching and all the love would vanish as I deposited him on the sofa and started my own work. He usually slept with both of his legs spread apart facing the ceiling, since he needed the air to flow over his fat little belly. He was always very patient with me. I used to tell him all my worries, fear, happiness and daily happenings. He was the first to know about my crushes. I cried my heart out before him when Rahul Dravid (I was cent percent sure I would marry him one day) got married. Funny as it may sound, before every Maths exam I used to touch his feet and say, “Please let me pass this time. I promise I will study harder the next time.” Well, the next time never came and this became a ritual for me. I had this notion that I would surely flunk the paper if I did not touch his feet before the exam. Later, I started to do the same before chemistry exams too. And you know what? I, miraculously, passed every single chemistry exam, which I was sure to fail in otherwise.

He used to love sitting on my books and notebooks, playing with my pens, chewing my eraser and making paw marks on my just completed homework. I did get angry but that was nothing compared to that one particular day when I got really mad at him. I had finished making a craft project depicting ‘A happy family at Diwali’ after working continuously for two days. It was to be put up on the school board on Parent’s Day. I had gone to the dining room for dinner. When I came back, I saw torn paper all over the floor in my room and Junglee sitting on the top of my craft project chewing away happily. I almost had a major cardiac attack as I rushed to my table. He had already gobbled up the mother. Now, he was half-way through with the fathers head. “Eeeeeeeeeeee”, I yelped, crossing the 60 decibel limit and hit him on the back. He became so frightened that he jumped out of the open window and fled. I was inconsolable after that. Somehow, Ma did some perfect damage control and my craft project looked better than ever. But, Junglee did not return that night; not even for dinner, which he could never live without. The morning passed and he did not come. I could not eat my lunch properly as I was feeling extremely miserable for frightening him like that. Finally, he came back in the evening all brushed up. I was never so happy in my whole life and hugged him tightly and went on kissing him till he hit me with his paw on my nose. I swore never to scold him again.

I was feeling very sorry because he had not eaten for almost a day because to me. I fed him all I could. The amazing part was that Junglee was not fat at all. But, he had a tremendous appetite and was always hungry. Food just vanished inside him. All the time I was feeling sorry for him, little did I know why he was late in coming back home. I discovered it after two days. I was sitting in the veranda trying to solve a stupid integration problem when I saw Junglee with another dirty white cat. Quite unnatural. Usually, whenever he was with any other cat, they were always fighting. Instead, he was going all mushy-mushy over this new feline. No wonder!

A close observation revealed it was a ‘she’. “Junglee’s got a girlfriend”, I announced to Ma happily. After that, Junglee was generally absent half the time. He didn’t even come back to eat. It is from him that I learnt that falling in love can be such a tedious job. He had a number of girlfriends during his life time, and every time he brought a girl home, I thought he deserved a better looking feline.

Junglee always slept in my bed. During winters, he would snuggle inside my quilt and start purring once he was warm and comfortable. I liked it too because the body temperature of cats is generally higher than humans and it felt warm when I hugged him and slept. During the summer, he would sleep at one corner of the bed. When I sleep, I migrate into a pseudo world and don’t expect me to wake up even during an earthquake (just kidding?). So, one day, I was in deep slumber when, maybe, I kicked Junglee by mistake. Well, this was the second thing that Junglee disliked - being disturbed while sleeping (first is PDAs remember?). I will remember, all my life, the bite that I received from him after that. “Aaaaaaaaaaa”, I woke up holding the big toe of my foot in pain. He gave me a, “Serves you right, you moron. That will teach you a lesson or two about keeping your feet to yourself.” look and drifted off to sleep.

Junglee was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to me in 25 years. After him, we adopted many more cats (we had 5 cats at one time). But, he was the most intelligent cat I had ever seen. It may sound cheesy but he was my friend, philosopher and guide. I can go on and on about the happiness he brought into my life. I really doubt whether I could have loved a real brother, if I had one, as much as I loved Junglee. He was with me for 11 long years before I went to Calcutta to attend college. It was very hard for me to stay away from him and all the other cats. He was l2 years old when he passed over to Rainbow Ridge. (A name for cat heaven).

I held him in my arms and wished him a safe journey as the last breath left his body. I will never forget that day. It was truly one of the hardest things I had to endure. Because I held him as he passed, I think part of his soul is attached to mine and I feel him with me always. I truly loved him and felt that he was a kindred spirit. While I write all this, every moment is coming back to me and making me happy and sad at the same time. I still miss him terribly even though he is gone for almost five years now. If he is somewhere and seeing me write this, I just want to say that,

“I love you. You are the most handsome man I will ever meet. There can be no one like you. You will always rule my heart.”

C ~ CUDDLY

A ~ ADORABLE

T ~ TERRIFIC

I love cats. And that is the universal truth. Today I will tell you how my never ending love

story with these fluffy little bundles of joy began. It was a lazy afternoon in 1992. We had shifted to a new house recently. New house, new neighborhood and everything. I had got my own little room, which meant I was a big girl now. Our neighbors had a puja that evening, so Ma was helping them out. Dad was at the department. So that left me alone at the house. Within a short while I got tired of watching the TV and decided to explore the backyard of our house. Since everything was new, I was on a never ending exploration spree those days. I opened the door and went out. Everything was calm and quiet, except for the occasional rustling of the leaves and the chirping of birds. Nothing very interesting. I turned my back and was about to go, when I heard a faint “meow”.I stopped in my tracks and turned around. I looked around. Nothing. “Meow”. I heard it again,this time a bit louder. Then, I saw something move in the pile of leaves in one corner of the courtyard. I went there and saw a tiny thin black striped mass wiggle out of the leaves. Anyone seeing it for the first time would think what an ugly kitten it was, but for me anything even remotely related to a cat was cute. I bent down and patted it. It rubbed its head on my legs. It was then that I saw it limp with each step it took. It was hurt. How could anyone hurt this little thing, I thought aghast. I ran inside and brought a little milk and bread. It could not eat the bread properly as it was very small, but had a little milk. How I wished to take it inside with me. But I did not know whether Ma would allow it, though she, too, loved cats. It was still rubbing its head against my leg. I took all my will power to go inside and lock the door though my heart broke to leave that little thing outside. After 5 minutes, I opened the door again and peeked outside. The little thing came wobbling to me and straight inside. It looked around the kitchen and went into the hall as if it knew the house well. I picked it up and hugged and kissed it. It felt so good. I had a cat when I was a toddler and I wanted to have one again. My reverie broke when the doorbell rang. I knew it was Ma. So I hurriedly left the kitten in the backyard and opened the door.

As hard as I tried to put the thoughts of the little one behind, I could not. I went to the kitchen where Ma was cooking and told her about the little thing. She looked at me and said, “Taking care of a pet can be a lot of trouble. You do know that”. I didn’t want to know anything, I just wanted it. ”It won’t be much of a trouble” I said. Ma opened the backyard door. There was no sign of the cat. My heart skipped a beat. I frantically looked around. Finally, I found it sleeping peacefully against the trunk of the large jackfruit tree. “See it’s so small and hurt too. Please can we take it home?” I was almost on the verge of crying. Well, that was it. Ten minutes later, Ma and I were making a bed out of a worn-out rug while the little thing looked on. By then, Ma had already cleaned it and given it some more milk. But, it was more interested in watching what we were up to. After a comfortable bed was made we put the little one in it. ”This is your bed from today”; I said to the little one and smiled. It kind of nodded its head, as if it understood what I said. It did not object to the small bed we had made for it initially. It knew that it had succeeded in convincing us to take it in and soon the time would come when it would be promoted to our bed. It just sat there and groomed itself and seemed very happy.

“What should we call him?” I asked Ma. It was a ‘he’, Ma had already told me. Ma had also told me that he was a wildcat. He also had black and white stripes like a tiger. These stripes were very condensed when he was small and it made him look more like an owl rather than a cat. So we named him “Junglee”. Short and sweet. At first, he did not respond when we called him by his name, but soon he understood and came running every time we called him.

Junglee was a very intelligent cat and well mannered, and he learnt the rules of the house pretty soon. Maybe, he was the first generation in his family to be domesticated. So, he had his wild instincts intact. He was not the typical domestic cat that one generally sees. He was the master of his own will. He was adorable only when he wanted to be. He really did not love excessive PDAs (public displays of affection). But I just loved doing that to him (naughty me? ). I used to pick him up, cuddle him, and kiss him and do all sort of mollycoddling that irritated him. But, maybe, he knew that I was the one who was responsible for making him a part of the family. So, he bore with me. He loved to eat everything that I ate.

Somehow, he had the misconception that this small monster is always given the best things to eat. So whenever I sat down for eating, he was there at my side giving me a look that said, “Aren’t you going to offer me some?” That look in his eyes made me feel like a criminal and I used to immediately give him some of it. So there he sat with me, giving me that look till I finished my food. After that, he would just walk away like a prince and not even look back at me. So much for feeling guilty!

I still remember a particular incident. It was past midnight. We were all fast asleep. Suddenly we head a big catfight in our yard. All of us got up immediately. The first reaction was to search for Junglee. But he was not in the house. Panic started to build up. Papa opened the door hurriedly. It was pitch dark outside and, well, Junglee was not exactly so fair that we could spot him instantly. We ran towards the origin of the brawl. I feared the worst. Junglee was quite small then and if any big cat was fighting with him, I really did not want to think about the consequences. We began calling him frantically. Then, we saw two green eyes staring at us in the dark. “It is him”, I almost jumped with joy. Sure enough, Junglee was sitting on the cement culvert we had in our garden, observing two other cats fight. Ma picked him up and took him inside. He was not that interested in coming back but Ma was too shaken. So, she put him in our bed. Now this was the thing he really had his eye on for long, so he could not complain. That was the day our bed became his bed. After that day he continued with his midnight shenanigans, learning the art of warfare from other cats. All this dedicated training paid off and he went on to become very skilled in the art of catfight. He would always emerge victorious and by the time he was three, he was the king of our colony.

Another incident happened when Gujarat was affected with plague. With the plague spreading like wildfire, warnings and preventive measures were doing the rounds of the print media and TV. Even a single mouse was enough to unnerve us. It was evening time and Ma and I were watching TV and relaxing. Now, Junglee’s way of entering the house was generally through the window. So, when a black mass jumped into the room from the window we knew it was him and continued to watch TV. Now there was a small bed beside the window. After coming inside, Junglee vanished under the bed. During a break, I went to the bed to see what he was doing down there for so long. When I bent down, to the horror of my horror, I saw him playing with a mouse, which was almost the same size as him. I shrieked as a natural reaction. Seeing me, he came out boldly with the mouse dangling in his mouth. Well he was having trouble doing so, because he was small then. But that did not prevent him from showing off his great achievement – his first prized catch. He deposited the rodent at my feet and started to rub his head against my leg. I almost jumped three steps back. Maybe he expected me to congratulate him and pat him for this brilliant feat. By then, Ma came to see what the fuss was about. She gave, more or less, the same kind of reaction as I did minus the jumping part. Ma shouted at Junglee for his doings and shooed him off. He looked at us, unsure, and leapt out of the window. A long cleaning session with soap, Phenyl and Dettol proceeded until Ma was completely sure that the place was disinfected. We had just settled down after the safai abhiyan, when a black mass jumped inside again. Because of the fiasco the last time, Ma was alert this time and got up to see what he was up to. She did not even take a step when Junglee came straight to her feet, dragging a mouse which was double his size. Ma froze in her steps. After placing it at her feet, he looked up at Ma with much expectation. It seemed like he interpreted our panic the last time as our dissatisfaction at seeing such a small rodent. So, this time he bettered himself with a bigger catch and proudly presented it to Ma, whom he thought to be much more sensible than me and who could identify true valor. We gathered from his approach that he had no intention of eating it and was just showing off his skills and trying to get some credit like before. This time we did not panic. On the contrary, both of us begin to laugh. I guess this is what extreme shock does to you. Junglee did not quite like it when we cleared the mess and kept on meowing in disapproval. After the cleanup, Ma asked me to hold him while she cleaned his tooth, which was again a tough thing to do with all the clawing and pawing involved. After that, Ma closed all the windows and made him sit on the chair like a good cat and threatened to throw him out if he did something like that again. His nonchalant face expression said, “You ignorant people! You can never identify real talent, even if it jumped up and bit you!”

Continued in Part 2

I was reading an article on ragging today and  started remembering all the times I was ragged. Initially I remembered my sophomore years in college. Just as I was walking down the memory lane, I remembered an incident from my lower Kindergarten days(I was 3 something years then) . I studied in a catholic school. The lower KG section was separated by a long corridor from the main school premises. Our teachers would make us form a long line and lead us to the playground which was in the main school premises. There was a separate playground for the kids which housed a slide, see-saw and jungle gym (those complex constructions from metal pipes, on which children can climb, hang, or sit). Climbing has always been my passion :), so my favorite thing was the jungle gym. I used to climb up to the highest level and sit there watching the other kids scurry about in the playground. Small girls like altitude, same was with me. It kind of gave a satisfaction of being at a higher level than the others.

One day our class teacher was absent. Generally during such occurrences a senior student(minder) would be assigned of 'minding' the class for the day. They would come and make us play games and engage us in different activities in the class room in a disciplined way so that the teacher less class won’t create commotion.

It was our games period. The senior made us form a line and lead us to the playground. We played while she chatted with one of her friends along with keeping a tab on us. Me and Rini (my best friend during those days) were perched up at our usual position on the jungle gym. For some unknown reason the senior's friend kept on looking at us all the while. We felt a bit uncomfortable but couldn’t help it. We knew there was no point in complaining to the senior as the other girl must be her best friend from the way they were talking.

The game period ended. The senior called for everyone to form a line. Me and Rini were the last one to join every time as we wanted to enjoy the jungle gym till the last moment. Finally before the line started to move class wards, we started to climb down. The kids already started to move by the time we reached ground and we ran to join the line. Just then we were stopped by the other girl. She stood on our way with her hands stretched. We looked at her questioningly.

"Hi I am Bhavna" She said.

Rini and I exchanged looks. She looked scared. I mustered up some courage and mumbled, "Our line is going"

"It's ok. I have talked with your minder, you can be with me for a while" She said with an odd smile.

For the first time I felt a bit feared. Catholic schools are so disciplined that the moment you do something odd, a complaint would go to the principal. Firstly we did not join the line when we were supposed to and now we were stranded in the playground with a stranger.

She saw the fear in our eyes and said, “Don’t worry I will let you go the moment you do what I ask you to do"

We didn’t have the guts to ask what.

"OK so tell me ABCD start to end" she commanded to Rini.

She fumbled a number of times but completed it somehow. Now she looked at me and ordered, “Tell 1 to 100"

Instantly Rini started crying, when it should have been me who would have cried. I got stuck at eighty nine. She waited for sometime and then with an irritated look said, " Since you couldn’t complete it you have to stay back and your friend can go!"

I was horrified to hear that. Bhavna tried to shoo away Rini but she did not budge.

Bhavna looked at me and said, “What is 1000 plus 500?" I didn’t have any clue what she was speaking about. Seeing me stammering Rini started to cry loudly.

"I will slap you if you cry once more!" She said and made hand gestures of slapping.

This opened the floodgates and Rini started to wail at the top of her voice!

Fortunately for us a senior guy was going through the ground. He heard the wailing and came to us. He looked senior to Bhavna and demanded what was going on. Now it was her turn to fumble. The guy scolded her and warned her strictly. After that he led us to our class room and explained everything to the teacher. We were shaking like dry leaves till the time we reached our classroom. The teacher and the guy assured us that we were safe and nothing to worry. But that incident had instilled a sharp fear in us. From that day onwards we always kept close to the other kids while in play ground and was always first to form the line.

So that was the first time I encountered ragging in my life. The incident might sound very trivial now, but back then it was truly a frightening experience. It taught us the important lesson never to be left behind in a group. But then again, old habits die hard. especially with me. :) I will tell you another interesting tale when I was left behind and its consequences some other day.

Have a great day!

My father was a professor at IIT kharagpur.And hence I had spend some beautiful time of my life in that place. IIT kgp is a silent and dreamy little town. Not much hustle bustle. but still growing up there had its own share of excitement. IIT kgp may be a small town but is wholesome in itself. It has everything -market,postoffice, swimming pool, movie hall, stadium,restaurents,schools,hospitals, etc.There is something magical about growing up in small towns and villages.The friends you go to school with are also the ones you play with in the evenings. Their parents are friends of your parents. Friendships that are made last a lifetime. Secrets are few and community support makes up for the open societal structure. The experience is probably entirely different from the parents' perspective, when they are overwhelmed with raising young children in an environment that does not offer a lot of the facilities that are available in big cities. For us, the kids, this was an experience that has remained as one of the best periods of our lives. As in any place, it is the people who make up the community. These ramblings are about all those people who touched my life in many ways. Most of them were considered 'failures' by the society, and I was told that I would end up like them if I did not concentrate hard on my studies. Needless to say, I studied very hard and kept sports, art and music, my true interests at a distance.

Certainly, I did not want to become someone like the paper-delivery man when I grew up. He was an old man, probably younger than he looked, with a balding head, save for the little white hair around the sides. A big white moustache made him look like he was an ex military person, which he could very well have been. He would come in his rickety bicycle with all the papers and magazines delicately balanced on the handlebar. His bicycle did not have a stand and that meant that he would have to invent unique ways to make it stand upright every time he descended from it to deliver a paper, which was pretty often. Leaning the bicycle against a tree or a lamppost was common, but the nearest lamppost in front of our house was in a ditch full of thorns and the shade of the nearest tree was housing my father's scooter. The poor chap had to take recourse into ingenuity and came up with a novel way of balancing the bicycle by placing a brick under one of the pedals, something I could never do with my bicycle after several tries. Then again, I was privileged to have a stand with mine.

His stack would have all kinds of papers and my favourite, all kinds of magazines. He wouldn't mind if I went through his stack and would occasionally let me keep a Gokulam or an Illustrated Weekly overnight. I never failed to return it the following day and never with a tear or even a fold in any of the pages. With these simple acts he taught me to take responsibility when placed with a trust. No school taught me that.

--

A postman is certainly not what I wanted to be when I grew up. A dark skinned, sun burned man came by everyday to deliver our letters. If our paths crossed on the road before the mail was delivered for that day, he would stop his bicycle and reach into his bag and hand me my mails, if there were any, which he always remembered without checking into his bag. The spontaneity with which he would go out of his way to serve someone is a small act, but meant volumes to me. It was a familiar sight to see him come down the road, stopping at every house to deliver mail. The anticipation grew to joy when he would park his bicycle in front of our gate. At an age, when there were no junk mails, every piece of mail was guaranteed to be handwritten by the sender with a message just for us. To see him go past our house and park at the next one meant that there were no mails for us that day. The sun might very well have stayed hidden that day.

--

A young boy, not much older than me when I was in my early teens, opened up a bicycle repair shop under a tree next to Nair's canteen. He would come in the morning with a bicycle pump, a small toolbox and a bucket, which he would fill up with water after he sets up shop. 10 paisa to pump air into one tire, 15 paisa for two were his introductory rates. A flat repair would fetch him 75 paisa. The long line of bicycles waiting to be repaired after just a few days indicated that his business was doing well. I was told that life would reward you if you did an honest hard day's work. Watching Ramu's sweat drenched back and tattered clothes while he was plying me, or watching the young boy carefully applying glue to fix a flat tire, made me think about life's true rewards. They did not have money, yet they did not take the easy way out looking for it. These men could hold their heads up high with a smile and take everything that life threw at them. I realized then that money has very little to do with life's true rewards.

--
Our parents always teach us to value money and spend it wisely. Back then most of the beggars that we used to come across were fake and a real menace. One of my earliest memories of the Tech market when I was a first or second grader is that of a cobbler who would sit by the entrance fixing shoes. A very old man, in the twilight of his life, he was beyond poor. He was halfway between being a beggar and a cobbler. One day, I was waiting in line behind a gentleman who was getting his shoe fixed by this cobbler. He put in two nails with his shaking hands and returned the shoe with a smile and said, "20 paisa". The gentleman stuck his hand into his pocket and came up with a 50-paisa coin. While handing over the money to the cobbler, he said, "Keep the change. You need it more than I do." I changed that day. I went home and thought hard on this very simple act of compassion that this gentleman, Dr. Sircar had shown to the cobbler. Would my parents scold me if I gave money to someone who really needs it? The conflicting thoughts of being careful with money while understanding its value and that of charity and philanthropy began playing a game of tug-of-war on my head. I saw the world with a different eye from that day on. I can still close my eyes and hear that statement I heard some 20 years ago.

--

"We are prone to judge success by the index of our salaries or the size of our automobile rather than by the quality of our service and relationship to mankind", said Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. This is almost forgotten by a largely capitalist world right now where a person's success is directly equated to the size of his house and the value of his car.

I hope to teach these values I learnt as a child, through the most unusual and unexpected of sources, to my children. I would know that I have been a successful parent if I see such integrity and compassion in my children, regardless of the size of their houses or automobiles. In an age of corporate and political corruption, I am reminded of a quote made by one Alan Simpson - "If you have integrity, nothing else matters. If you don't have integrity, nothing else matters."