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Hi, this is somebody who has taken the quieter by-lane to be happy. The hustle and bustle of the big, booming main street was too intimidating. Passing through the quieter by-lane I intend to reach a solitary path, laid out just for me, to reach my destiny, to be happy primarily, and enjoy the fruits of being happy. (www.sandeepdahiya.com)

Thursday, December 4, 2025

The pregnant cat

 

A bookish stilt in my attitudional accent. It’s a precarious poetic perch. Spirits dampened with driftless destiny. Exasperating decadence strewn around. The world lost in the lore of gladiatorial guts and bloody gore. Thankfully my yard and small garden possess a stageful dignity; a small world having its deference-deserving dust.

The brown and yellow striped cat is commodiously pregnant. The would-be mother is relaxing with a rotund belly. A cat has exemplary excellence in the art of relaxation, almost perfect ease. And from this arises an esteemed sense of alertness. A sepulchral silence out of which are born swift darts at the prey. Extremely relaxed, extremely alert. Latching onto the productive strains of providence whenever the slightest chance opens.

The flycatcher voicing frilly thoughts; convulsive nerves of the tailorbird; churlishly blinkering babblers. They see the cat relaxing. It has lost its agility but it needs to eat till the day of delivery. For its kittens. Lackadaisical attitude won’t do. Aha the eminent rhythms of motherhood! And there it jumps up suddenly and runs across the courtyard towards the garden, galloping with a stately mix of firmness and gentleness. It has undertaken eight or ten such runs to catch some lazy bird or squirrel. It wants some meaty delicacy which we can’t offer. Chapattis and milk it doesn’t prefer, a feral cat it’s after all. So it wants to hunt for its kittens in its belly.

When you see a pregnant female, across all species, it breeds natural respect for her. You might not be actually aware of it, but when you give a look of respect, or hold out a helping hand, or get up from your seat to offer it to her, you are performing a deeply religious act. It’s almost like a holy ritual. Usually when I see a bird or cat after a prey, I impulsively intervene from the prey’s side. But not this time. Scaring her away from her hunting pursuit in such a heavily pregnant state feels like something unholy. I just leave it to fate and watch it as it unfolds.

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