Chilli The Cat
by Amit
Parmessur
There was a loud
buzz in the beautiful village of La Gaulette
– an astrologer had just settled there. He
was so good at crystal ball gazing too. Certainly,
our friend Chilli could trust him. “Sir,”
he said, making himself comfortable in his chair,
“tell me about that future of mine.”
The astrologer
cleaned the ball with a piece of cloth.
“Wait! Wait, my son,” he said solemnly.
Chilli waited scratching his belly and wondering
how this astrologer could be his father.
“I’m impatient,” he said.
“Today you
are going to meet someone,” resumed the
astrologer, his hands moving all over the crystal
ball.
Chilli’s
whiskers stood up and his face glowed. “Tell
me more.”
The astrologer
bent over the crystal ball. It seemed he was more
at grazing than gazing. “This somebody would
want to know everything about you!” he
revealed, expertly.
“I’m
excited,” jumped Chilli. He placed more
coins on the table. “Tell me where and who
it is.”
“You lucky
cat! I can see an intelligent beautiful girl.
Tomorrow,” the astrologer said. “She
would be interested in knowing you in depth.”
Dropping a final coin, Chilli thanked the
astrologer. Then suddenly the astrologer’s
face became very serious.
“Is the money
not enough?” Chilli asked.
The astrologer
drew a long breath. “My son when you go home
from here, beware. A van might take you away.
I’m afraid you are going to meet that girl
during a cat dissection class at the nearby
university.”
~***~
Mr
Luke the famous village doctor could not see his
beloved cat that night. It was late and he was
doubly sad as he had personally prepared
Chilli’s favourite fish. Quickly he set out
for his precious cat.
First
he went to the butcher’s house. Fearing the
man might have cut and sold his cat Mr Luke
shared his problem anxiously. “Maybe
he’s gone to look for a bride,” the
butcher snapped. “Your cat’s just so
lonely. You are not a suitable match for him
despite all your affection.” The doctor was
not impressed; he moved to the next house after
having emptied the butcher’s bin.
“Have
you seen my cat?” asked the doctor.
“You
mean your white cat?” inquired the sleepy
milkman. “Doctor, maybe there’s no more
mice at your place. He has gone elsewhere.
He’ll come back.” Wondering in what
misery his cat might be, Mr Luke moved to the
next house.
I
came out.
The
night was so cold too. “Have you seen my cat?”
Mr Luke asked. As the author of the story I
decided to end his pain.
I
told him Chilli was sleeping at home, dead with
chagrin and all black with mud having narrowly
escaped a van earlier in the evening. I told him
that his cat was sleeping on the table where he
would keep his curios. Certainly his wife
hadn’t bought a black wooden cat for his
collection as he had earlier thought while
looking for Chilli in the house.
Mr
Luke sighed.
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