That morning, I was woken up by a distant sound. I lazily got up and went to my balcony to take a look. Although I could localize the sound, I couldn’t find its producer. After a while, I went on ahead with my day knowing that the mother cat would probably find her kitten calling out to her.
I was shocked to hear the call still echoing through my hostel walls, as I returned that evening. My neighbor, whom I shall refer to as InKLa, (Incredibly Knowledgeable Lass) also found the situation alarming. So we set out to find the kitty, determined to rescue it.
After a while of hunting, we discovered its location. The kitten hid in a small pit, meowing its lungs out, calling its mother for help. We tried (actually InKLa did) to catch the kitty, but the little thing was too fast and ran into a pipe that opened into the pit, making it impossible for us to reach it. InKLa suggested that I bring a basket for the kitten, so I ran up to my room, in the second floor, to get it. By the time I found one, InKLa was back, grinning widely, holding the kitten safely in her arms. The kitten sat silently, clearly paralyzed with fear. The poor thing!
She released it in my room and said, “Lets call her ‘Saki'”. “Her???”, I asked. InKLa turned to leave and said, “She is certainly not going to let us check her ass out at this point, so let’s just assume that Saki is a she”. I laughed and agreed.
Saki is a Japanese word. While ‘Sa‘ means blossom, ‘ki‘ means hope. Our Saki certainly had a hope to survive.
Saki was absolutely scared that evening. She hid under one of the tables in my room and started her distress calls again. Without InKLa, I was totally at a loss to find a solution to calm her down. I took a cardboard box and placed my kitty doll inside it. I hoped that Saki would find my kitty doll to be good company. Lame huh? Please don’t judge me. I was desperate to find a solution. After all, the other hostel mates could complain about me for housing a stray kitten.
After a few Internet searches, I found some music, on Youtube, to calm and relax cats!!! I am certainly not joking. I started playing one such music and sat in the middle of my room, not moving around much. Magically, Saki started to calm down and dared to take a peek from under the table. Slowly, she started to explore my room and I still sat there, like a statue, trying my best not to alarm her. Incredibly, Saki loved my kitty doll. She kept visiting the doll often and rubbed against its soft fur. I felt sad. May be this poor kitten was missing her mother.
The next two days went in a blur. Saki would play all night, not letting me sleep. There is only one room with an attached balcony for each person in my hostel, so there was no escaping from this kitty. She would jump on me when I lay down and scare me. Although I enjoyed it in the beginning, I started going crazy without a proper sleep. InKLa offered to help out the next night and took Saki to her room. I must admit, I slept like a baby that night. I had never realized the importance of a good sleep before.
The way the hair stood on InKLa’s head, the next morning, revealed how well she had slept the previous night. During the mornings, Saki (the sleep destroying monster) slept peacefully, looking like an angel. I must admit that I was tempted to jump on her too. Ha Ha! Here is a photograph of Saki peacefully sleeping on my doll. I think she feels Secure near soft and furry things. Isn’t she cute?
InKLa and I realized that it wasn’t healthy for a little kitten to be locked inside a room all the time. So we decided to give her up for adoption. It was a hard decision to make, but it was the best option for Saki and our sleep. The very next day, InKLa planned to take Saki to an adoption center. On our last morning together, Saki and I played with her favorite toys.
We placed Saki inside a basket along with a kitty doll. I bid farewell to my dear Saki and gave her a speech about how things would turn out just fine for her. I’m not really sure if Saki heard all that I told her, that morning. As InKLa took the basket away, I went back to work, teary eyed. I was certain to miss that little, sleep destroying, fur ball.
After a week, the agency called us to inform that Saki had found a happy home. They mentioned that the little girl who adopted Saki found her extremely cute. Well, who wouldn’t? InKLa and I were quite happy, that day, that our small, yet Timely effort to help a kitten, finally paid off.
The tree-lined path turned dark as she took the turn.
She stopped and stared blankly at the thick canopy far above.
“How Dense!!!”, she whispered, letting her sore eyes shed a few more tears,
wondering why she ever believed that he would never abandon her.
It’s always painful when someone breaks our trust. It’s important to know when to give up and move on. But are people worth giving up or should we just keep trying to make things up? I guess we need to realize when we aren’t needed anymore. That’s the cue to move forward. Isn’t it? I’m really not sure.
A young boy sat on his bed. His heart thumped madly as he thought of tomorrow. In one hand, he held a model of a ship and in the other, an airplane. Eying each of them, he let out a sigh. He barely slept that night.
A school bus arrived to the Naval Dockyard carrying boys and their excited chatter. As they boarded the ship, the boy’s clenched palms started to sweat.
The boy looked tired, as he sat beside other seasick friends. He then noticed an airplane soaring above. He smiled and whispered, “That’s the one!”.
I was out for a lovely morning walk, when I encountered this tree. I immediately saw a serpent-like face giving me a menacing look. I stood there transfixed, with my mind racing. I could’ve thought of it just as another tree and moved on, but I couldn’t. I could hear the tree telling me a story. Let me share it with you.
Long ago, the land was full of lush greenery with wild grass and tall trees. This was the zone of the serpents who lived quite happily, until the humans entered the picture. The land was destroyed in the name of “development”. Trees were chopped and the serpents were beaten to death, or driven away. That’s when the king of trees and the king of serpents joined forces. The king of trees let the serpent king reside in him, and together, they fought the “civilized” humans. Till today, they stand tall, telling a chosen few, the story of their victory.
I walked away with the story still echoing inside my head. Desperate to share this with someone, I dragged one of my friends to this tree. But he saw NOTHING! I was shocked. All he could see was a lump on an aging tree. I tried to describe the features I saw, the serpent-like face and the glowering eyes. Yet, they were all invisible to his rational eye.
I visited the tree again, that evening, and apologized for my friend’s lack of “sight”. The king of serpents smiled and told me that only a few gifted ones can truly “see” him. So my dear friends, here is a close up of my wonderful friend, the serpent king. I wonder now, are you gifted like me? What do you see? What story is the tree telling you?
It’s been super long hasn’t it? I hope you haven’t forgotten me! Ah! I’ve missed writing. I have a deadline coming up in a few days, so I’m extremely busy. I simply HAD to write today! To all the bloggers I follow or promised to visit, I’ll make sure to read your posts as soon as this crazy schedule comes to an end!
P.S. This tree amazed me then and still does. What do you even call it? How do you Label it? What amazes me the most is human imagination and how we associate patterns with stories. Isn’t it amazing how we do this so effortlessly?
She talks to everything around her, from her blanket to her shoes. Her imagination assigns life to the inanimate world around her. All these objects speak to her, narrating their tales to the patient listener. And she loves their stories.
This girl wasn’t blessed with a great childhood. Her own story is one she doesn’t like to recall. Back then, she desperately hunted for a refuge and finally discovered it.
She found that the fragrance of a new book, carried her far, far away from the brutal reality that smiled at her menacingly. So she rejected reality and made friends with the characters in the novels, instead. Their story became her story. Turning into an inseparable part of her, they became her and she, them.
Stories were her real home. That’s where she lived. In a dimly lit room, she used to sit by a window, through which light dared to peep in, just enough to illuminate her and the treasure she held. She would then forget her pain and her own existence, as she let the words engulf her.
She lived in her world of dreams. She still does. I know this, because I am she.
I believe, all hope isn’t lost if you had a screwed up childhood. We can still find roses among those thorns.
P.S: The photograph is a part of the Photography: Developing Your Eye I challenge. Since I am a total amateur, I would appreciate if you can give me some feedback on the photograph. Thanks!
The two children lay on the green grass below their favourite tree. They watched the cottony clouds glide across the blue sky.
“Superman!”, squeaked the little girl. Her brother laughed in agreement. He saw Superman too. “See where he’s heading?”, he asked her. She squinted her eyes to find Superman’s destination. The boy pointed towards another fluffy mass and said, “Towards that giant bear. See it?”. She then found it. The little girl giggled in delight.
Two decades later, the siblings sat in their office buildings that scraped the sky. But now, only shapeless clouds passed by.