Nivi's Fable

A long time ago lived a talking cat. It would spread the wisdom of the living, non-living and the dead. People flocked to hear it from far villages and towns. They thought it was divine and worshipped the cat. His fame turned hundred times more than its size. Its brown curling tail would swish excitedly when it spoke of sapience with all these humans hungry for guidance. It had two different colored eyes, one green and other amber, which people thought denoted its sagely manners. Though it is believed that a cat needs sixteen hours of sleep, Mr. Tod here, oh that’s the cats name kept by his mistress. Mr. Tod sleeps only for six hours a day.

‘The cat’s a saint when there are no mice about.’ But Mr. Tod never went after mice or birds. He was just happy with milk and some bread. He just like all would love to rub against his mistresses long old legs for a good meal or a warm spot.

His mistress was an old lady wearing always a skirt and a hat. She took absolutely no interest in the people flocking in to see her Mr. Tod. It did not amaze her that her cat could talk. It was just another thing. She would feed him tuna, some milk and bread every day. She just loved her Mr. Tod, who would lick her arms after being petted.

Soon, the rich, the circus men demanded the old lady to loan her cat. She was rude and disparaging to any such requests and demands. She made an announcement in the local newspaper ‘Mr. Tod will not be for loan for a day, months or a year.’ Mr. Tod soon realized his mistress’s dilemma. He knew she was being harassed because he could talk. A decision had to be made and a tough one. He became mute. He then purred and mewed just like other cats.

Humans will be humans; especially the ones who desperately wanted the cat. They thought the old lady had some tricks up her sleeve. She purposely did something to the cat so he won’t talk. Vicious as they were, they spilled some oil at the old lady’s front door. While going out she slipped and fell on her hand. Of course, her hand broke and she yelped in pain. The neighbor’s immediately called the doctor and helped her to lie on the bed. Then they wiped the oil from her door. Mr. Tod watched everything that happened that morning. He sulked. His worldly wisdom and advice fell flat in front of the cruelties of vile humans.

He pushed a little pile of gold, silver and money he was offered by humans to the leg of the bed. His mistress was softly moaning about her broken hand. He jumped on the bed with a skill known only to cats. He mewed and the old lady cuddled him with her good hand.

“Are you hungry, Mr. Tod?” she asked.

Mr. Tod was astounded at the gentleness and generousness of this woman. He made a decision which was difficult for him as well as his mistress. He broke his silence for one last time.

“Mistress!” he said, “I would have to go.”

“No, no, no Mr. Tod, please don’t go.” She begged.

“He who provide to anyone without any malevolence
would seek the almighty’s regard and benevolence”

The old lady nodded with tears in her eyes. She petted him one last time. He licked her broken arm slowly. Looked at her old gentle eyes one more time and jumped to the floor. He trotted out of the house in a direction no one will ever know.

The doctor came and examined the old lady’s hand. It was not broken anymore. He looked surprised.  And the dull pain had healed immediately. The old lady looked at the pile of gold, silver and money next to her bed. She took it and handed it over to the doctor and said,

“Thank you for coming. Take this and don’t charge the poor anymore.”

The 14Th Floor

“This traffic would kill me one day.” I thought to myself. On top of that, I feel like an office boy running errands. It’s been just a week he has joined ‘Trendz’. They have asked him to drop the data CD’s to his senior manager’s home. I have not even met that bugger and he is already a menace to me. When I asked my current close colleague why did I have to deliver this? He mentioned about Mr. Roy being on vacation for a week now and he has a very important conference tomorrow call for which he needs to go through the data. My super next question to him was, why can’t we mail him the data? As soon as I asked I knew the answer to it. “It’s too huge to send through mail, why are you getting upset? It’s on your way as it is.”
“Yeah right” I answered.

The address was so skimpy I wondered how to reach the place. At least the dumb of a secretary gave me the name of building and society. I looked at 20 something storey building and one wall full of names of the residents. I looked closely at it and I was dumbfounded when I saw that on 14th Floor there was a Mr. S Roy and on 15th floor another Mr. S.K. Roy. Which one is it I wondered? I quickly called the office, phone just kept ringing. I looked at my watch it was only seven thirty, does nobody work overtime? I cursed the secretary a couple of times loudly. I called my colleague, no answer from him either. Now he had no choice but to gamble and choose a flat. He got into the elevator with a woman. She pressed the button for 9th floor and I just kept standing there deciding which floor to go, she gave me disgusted look. She got off on 9th floor and I quickly pressed the 14th floor button. I looked at myself in the mirror, my hair was disheveled, and I combed them in place with my fingers. He tucked his shirt in properly. I did not consider myself handsome but I was definitely smart enough. It was not difficult to find his flat. There were just two on each floor. He practiced his apologies if it was the wrong Roy’s house. His fingers trembled when he pushed the bell.

The door opened after few seconds. As soon as it did, my breath got stuck somewhere. My eyes glued to the girl who opened the door. She was barefoot with shiny silver toes and anklet on one of her feet. She was wearing a flowery skirt and a black singlet. Her black curls fell like feather on her shoulder. She tilted her head questioning at me. I realized I was staring and recovered quickly. “I am… Ranjit” I stammered
“eshona” she said in a sweet Bengali accent.
I assumed she asked me in and walked in. The room was decorated in austere cluttering, I assumed from Bengal. What a stunning beauty Mr. Roy has, I wondered. I no more felt sorry for this trip. I sat down and asked her, “Mr. Roy?”
“Oh daddy? He just left with Mom.” She smiled, “Would you like something to drink? It must be really hot outside.”
I nodded my answer; I could not get myself to speak.
“Would you like coffee or chilled coke?”
“A chilled coke please.” I answered. She left me to fetch the drink. I realized that I had to find out whether it was the correct house. There was soft music playing behind she came back with two tall glasses of coke. She plopped herself opposite me and said, “I think he was expecting you. He mentioned something but I had my headphones on …” she smiled naughtily.
I sighed in relief I got myself in the right house.
“So Ranjit, what do you do?” she asked.
“I am currently working as business analyst. I just joined a week back.” I paused, “May I know your name?”
“Oh how silly, I assumed you would know. I am Riddima, but everybody calls me ‘Mishti’.”
“What would that mean?”
“Mishti? It means sweet.” She giggled and further explained, “We Bengali’s have a habit of keeping funny pet names.”
“But I must say though it may sound like a cliché to you. For a sweet person like you, the names appropriate.” She had the decency to blush. I quickly asked her, “So what kind of funny pet names do you guys have?”
“Oh you would hear some like, Hego, Teko, Bubun, chumki, Chuku, tuli and now if you have read the book ‘Namesake’ gogol seems like the favorite funny name.” she laughed and it was contagious as even I did.
“Then comparatively you have good pet name.” she beamed.
“Are you in a hurry Ranjit? I mean do you have anything planned ahead.”
Actually I dint and an opportunity like this should never be denied. “No do you have something in mind?”
“Wow,” she clapped hands like a small girl, “why don’t you stay for dinner, meanwhile we could play a game of scrabble, what do you say?”
“It sounds good, but you would have to teach me how to play I have forgotten, I have not played for years.”

Of course who does not know how to play scrabble? I played this game every school vacation of my schooldays. We played the game revealing bits and pieces of each others lives. She mentioned about her childhood and how they had stayed in much smaller home, she had so much fun that time. Now hardly her cousins came over. He narrated his migration from Allahbad to Mumbai in search of higher paying jobs.

Conversation spilled over the cozy Bengali dinner which the maid had cooked. They had maid from kolkatta. I was amazed. It was nearing 11 on the watch. He had outstayed his privilege. They exchanged their numbers when the bell rang. A half bald man in his fifties and a good-looking middle aged woman walked in. Oh, I thought, Mr. and Mrs. Roy. I stood up to greet them. I saw a frown crossing Mr. Roy’s face. Before I could say anything, he asked, “Who is he?” the question was directed towards his daughter.
I answered for her, “Mr. Roy, I am Ranjit Chowdhry from Trendz.” Then I remembered the package and I removed the CD’s. “I was here to deliver the data CD’s to you.”
“Whom are you talking about, I don’t know you and I don’t know anything about the Trendz and the CD’s.” his voice changed threateningly, “what have you been doing here?”
Mishti looked confused, “But daddy you said that somebody was coming home…”
“Yes but that was Debashish, my friends son. Not him. For once if you would just listen to me Mishti….”
Now was the time to say the apologies I had practiced earlier, somehow I could not remember them.
“I am sorry Mr. Roy, this is a terrible confusion, I think I had to deliver the parcel to Mr. Roy on 15th Floor.”
I took the cue and opened the door to go out. I once looked back and saw a glaring Mr. Roy, confused Mrs. Roy and the best part, smiling Mishti.