Sh/\kes™

She squirmed and wobbled in my arms. The back of the rikshaw seemed like an appropriate place to her for some acrobatics. Then she quickly changed her mind, curled up in my arms and rested her tiny blob of head on the crease of my elbow; staring with button eyes at the noisy traffic out. Unmoving. Unflinching. Unperturbed.

Day 1 at su casa

I logged into my Facebook account scrolling for mundane updates of “significant” posts on “insignificant” activities. The 3^rd post was by #WorldForAll. I never miss their updates. Can’t help but check the cutesy bundles they rescue each week. Them and some alerts from #YODA or #PetsForAdoption etc. WFA had done something different this time. Saw a video post. Assumed it was a documentary or awareness movie. Clicked and watched. 30secs into watching a helpless kitten wobble on her tripod like gait to becoming a hilarious bundle of unbelievable strength and budding life was all it took for me to ball my eyes out, like and comment. I wanted her. Ok… I’ve wanted a lot of the animals they have rescued so far. However, her story cried out to me as if it was a message tailored for me. Later on as the comments poured in, I figured the same sentiment resonated from others.

Shakes (or as I have trademarked her Sh/\kes™) was a 2-month old baby girl found and rescued by Nasreen’s help in Andheri E. She was unforgivably tormented by Mumbai monsoons and was shaking beyond a cold damp shiver. She would have most certainly met her demise had she not been rescued that fateful day. She was fostered by Nasreen and looked over by a vet who diagnosed a unique case of Cerebellar Hypoplasia (in this case Feline CH*). 

When Shakes needs me

*Cerebellar hypoplasia is a condition in which the brain, specifically the cerebellum, is underdeveloped or small for size leading to effect on motor nerves and sensory disturbances. This affects gait, balance, and movement primarily due to tremors and incessant shaking which aggravate on excess stimulation, excitement, fear, hunger etc. and completely die down to nil when the animal is calm, sleeping, resting or not triggered by any emotion. Shakes is a rare case of CH. This can be due to genetics, malnourishment of the mother during pregnancy or possibly due to injury or physical disturbance when the mother was carrying the litter.

I educated myself on the condition and didn’t care for what it brought forth. I wanted Shakes and the only way to do this was to convince the boyfriend, Abeer, to adopt her since I had spent 2 years trying to get my father to warm up to and cuddle up with 2 rescued brats already ruling my kingdom. Abeer was always an animal lover who claimed to be a dog person but had a hidden catman somewhere in that massive heart of his. From being occupied with Elsa’s antics or lack thereof (my eldest boy) to being smitten with Ella’s grace and agility (my baby girl and Elsa’s begum from arranged marriage); I was sure he loved the little felines as much. Abeer’s mum was home alone and seeing the benefits, the presence of a pet can bring to folks home alone like my dad, was a card I played to my already expanding list of excuses for him to adopt her. For the 1^st time ever Abeer did not resist. He hesitated and was anxious like a 1^st time adopter but did not say NO. We took time off and went to visit Shakes at her foster. She was brought out fast asleep and just eased into my arms. It was as if I was standing outside an orphanage or a NICU and was entrusted with the most precious thing they had. She was a doll incarnate. The next 20mins we stared as she wobbled and walked, drew EVERYONE’s attention (Taro, Nasreen, her son and 1 more member from WFA included) and proceeded to curl up into 1/4^th her size, decide she’s fascinated us enough and plonked off to sleep. I knew then that my gut was right all along.

My beautiful (hot and happening) family

Abeer’s eyes lit up and he was in love with her. He said ‘yes’ as soon as we had a private moment and I couldn’t have been elated. We explored what all did Shakes require in terms of care and handling especially more than the average cat and headed home to prep the place for her arrival.

On 15 Sep 2015, Taro (cofounder of WFA) personally brought her over to my place. He also had the chance to meet my famous duo Elsa-Ella and proceeded to ease Shakes into our lives. Abeer and I went through the formalities and forms and some cutting questions regarding her care and parvarish god forbid something were to go wrong in any situation. I was taken aback but thought these were good questions to ask folks here especially when they just as easily abandon their pets because their “pets” never really were considered “family” in the 1^st place. After the formalities and a very bad cup of coffee I made for Taro, Shakes was left to be acquainted to US.

Abeer was a natural. It surprised me and then it didn’t. He cared and that’s all that mattered. If you care, the rest falls into place. This coming from someone who was a nervous wreck when she handled baby Elsa. Shakes unlike other cats seems to ease into her places. She is curious, but never looks like she is scared or bothered or whining. She sleeps and wakes up and gets exploring as if that’s her expertise through the vast expanse of her 2-month old existence. She was wary of Elsa-Ella’s presence but not scared or bolting away. Instead there came the familiar crouch and observe like an FBI tactical force veteran and then her trademark signature tripod stand. *Yes Shakes, you standing so tall alone scares the bejesus outta everyone*.

She stayed the night with Geet and me and I had a gala time entertaining her. She was feisty and sporty and adorable all in one. Her absolutely tiny frame was no hurdle against her urge to scale massive peaks like my laptop bag or the giant pillow on my bed. As long as she is watched while on a height and resting always on a soft surface, I was ok. Soft landings for her lithe body was ok with me until she got a little fatter and stronger. She bolted from one corner to the other only to bang into furniture and take a few seconds to gather herself. She loved 2 other dangerous things: climbing and playing with strings. The latter she is a huge fan off. Simplicity and bundles of love came in from watching this baby grow supremely happy with a few strings. That’s all it took to see her eyes light up, her inhibitions disappear and her nose turn pink-er with excitement. She loved human touch and connection. Leave her space for a moment and you’ll know never to underestimate the power of a kitten’s meowing. It’s the cutest loudest sound and you’ll drop/rush through whatever you are doing. Willingly.

The next day I dropped her off to Abeer’s and that’s where the real adventures began. Father and daughter ganged up and enjoyed their time together. Abeer’s momma and sister watched as he transformed from a regular Joe at home to a dedicated daddy/adopter. Abeer’s sister was 100% occupied with Shakes since she would head back to the UAE soon. Shakes was the center of attention, love, food, games, pampering and all that a new little one can possible accumulate. She loves cuddles and sleeping – no sleeping alone. She ate and played while you watched her. She was surprisingly litter trained but there came the challenge of ensuring her balance while doing her business. She constantly shook and lost her balance and fell into her poop. This was patiently resolved with wet wipes and conditioning her to balance and stay strong.

Biker girl in the making!

She was a delight. She didn’t demand anything which made it important for us to fix a feeding schedule, sleeping and pooping routines. She hijacked anything her paws touched and her big button eyes blackmailed out of us. I for once found myself traveling to Abeer’s more just to spend time with her. She made me feel like a momma too. I realized how much I missed kittens or more appropriately how fast my own 2 grew up that I missed when they were babies. Here was Shakes, filling that void.

Over the course of a few months, her personality traits came out in the open. She openly threatened and growled at other cats and dogs – absolutely unnerved by their size despite her having to strain to look up at them. She ran amok and ran into things often bumping her head and waiting to gather her wits. She learnt to scale higher objects and furniture by using her fore paws and landing from heights on her belly and hind knees. This makes an ugly sound and each time I find myself reaching out to grab her and comfort her. She doesn’t seem to need any. Abeer and Shakes have grown inseparable. He rushes home to her, wakes up at 5am to prepare high protein meals and even cleans up incessantly after her. Her comfort and needs come above all and I became the happiest most content spectator to it all. Somewhere watching your man turn to a puddle rearing for a little one is endearing and draws me closer to him.

WIP Relationship

He speaks to her and she seems to understand what he says – aka translate it to whatever she assumes is said. There is undeniable connect when they look at each other and she responds with paws on his face. A miniscule sense of envy washes over me when I see her literally hug him and sleep. Yep, Shakes is a cuddle bunny who hates sleeping alone. She knows the curvature of my boyo’s arm just right enough to fit herself in. Shes spoons herself into his sleeping position and usually buries herself in my hair if I’m around. Her preoccupation with attacking and playing with my hair for hours stumps me. But I’m happy to play the part too. We went through the ritual of vaccinations, neutering and even her 1^st bath. I was stumped as she stood perfectly still almost submissive and awaiting the end of her 1^st aqua experience. It is a blessing if no other term describes best her presence in our lives. Some people have children, we have Shakes. Her care and upbringing is in our collective priorities and we enjoy every second of it. When she was in foster care, Abeer would swing by on the bike, ask me to hop on and we would take off just to spend a few hours with her. I knew then that Abeer was a doting father/figure and when he cared, he did so from every crevice of his heart. Her tremors overtime reduced, although prominent on profound excitement. She has a tripod like gait and still walks with her hind legs stomping rather than gracefully gliding like cats do. Her head shakes when she eats but she has better control of her food and water now in a soft plastic bowl. Litter management is easier and instances of her soiling herself are far fewer.  

When we open the door, seeing Shakes anticipating us is a huge moment. She stands right at the door and brings her tiny soft self to unload her cuteness on us. There is no doubt that she loves having us around. She hates being alone and maybe sometime soon we might add a companion for Ms. Shakes. Till then I will record every moment she waltzes out victorious from a massive pile of something she has successfully managed to crash.

 

Momma and baby girl

Daddy and his princess

To my love and baby girl. Nothing is bigger than you 2 in the world for me. Ma Famille

For more pics and updates, visit: https://instagram.com/gatacdo7/

https://instagram.com/tipsies/

Unplanned parenthood

“She trots in with button sized pupils rimmed with fiery amber. There is no sloth, greed, anger, resistance, distrust, hate… none of that. It’s beyond pure and full of longing and love.She runs to me, clips her paws into my trouser legs. *Tch… those threads are ripped out now*. She looks at me “Pick me up momma”. I do and the trousers, the scratches, the hell day at work, the ever-disappointed folks and any tiff with the better half… all vanish. Soft silken fur with a warm cuddly bundle lie naked in my arms. A damp snout and an eager tongue greet my chin and neck. That’s my baby girl. And I’m her momma.”

Jennifer Aniston spoke of something very powerful. “I don't like [the pressure] that people put on me, on women — that you've failed yourself as a female because you haven't procreated. I don't think it's fair. You may not have a child come out of your vagina, but that doesn't mean you aren't mothering — dogs, friends, friends' children”. This really struck me. Mothering or being a mother is a powerful role. It involves nurturing, protecting, providing, caring for, teaching and so many many tireless (and thankless)activities by one hapless person. Nowhere, does it mention the need or requisite of a vagina or womb to begin this process. Else, we would shamelessly undermine the work of remand homes, foster homes, social workers and adopters.

I am not a mother. Not by the physical sense of having given birth. That doesn’t mean that I do not miss or imagine the idea of having my womb filled one day and experiencing the hilarious and serious joys of pregnancy followed by being armed with the lifelong weapon “I kept you in here for 9 months….”. Motherhood is a beautiful, amorous, unique experience. There was a time I was desperate to be a mother. I wanted a child and I wanted to do the whole 9-yards. I hadthe right man and I was ready. The man wasn’t and unfortunately, thereafter, the relationship and the desire died with me. Or so I thought. It doesn’t. It lies like a dormant volcano. Quiet and unprovoked. It just plays occasional moody tunes with the strings lining your heart and one fine day a whole symphony resonates. That’s when I adopted Elsa and a year after, Ella.

I thought it was all just a string of events that fell into my lap. It wasn’t. These were subconscious plans unknowingly orchestrated by me. I decided to take them on as babies. Mere infants with just one or two people telling me what to expect. There was no baby shower, no diapers or cribs, no baby things and no celebrations. It was me and voiceless little ones. I had to observe, be extremely patient, breathe, not complain about staying up nights, roll over and adjust sleeping positions, hunt for their little furry bodies in a pile of pillows etc. I had to unlearn and learn new ways to care for them, integrate them, medicate them, feed them, and love them. All of it came naturally. I was surprised at how well I coped. I assumed I would be a massive failure and out of pity, I would have to give them up. For me that was a clause that didn’t exist in my decision. They were coming home and growing old with me. There was no exchange, abandonment, giving up or any of the sorts. They maybe another species but I would be their mother and behave like one too.

Having them has changed me significantly. I am calmer, more patient (with them and others too), more conditioned for acceptance and looking forward to love in a different exchange. Over 2 years, there are stories, photos, instances, episodes, nightmares, fights, scolding, surprises and abundance of love. Each day is a new jungle theme at home. Today they break something, tomorrow they create something. Today they eat something and later they decide it’s not gourmet enough for their royal palates. Today they are well behaved and tomorrow they make up by being real rascals. Today they love each other and tomorrow they both question me as to why I brought the other one home. Today they are calm and tomorrow the newspaper and freshly laundered clothes see the ire of my attempts at disciplining them. No, you can’t train cats. I mean you could condition them but dare not train them. They feel insulted and have that “for real… I mean c’mon.” look on their faces. They have multiple personalities and each of those personalities is diabolical. Barely do you make peace with one and understand how to tackle it a new one springs up... almost like a fresh challenge in your face. My foster contact is always full of praises for my Elsa and Ella. He and his family gush over how cute they are, well behaved, loving, sit on laps and do not struggle or wiggle out, eat and drink EVERYTHING and play with other cats. NONE of that happens in my house. They treat my abode like the gangsta’s hideout and anything outside of these premises is remand and correctional facilities.

I don’t mind them at all. They love me and I love them. People’s concept of cats being selfish moody beings couldn’t be more tangent. They have a magnanimous and interesting personality. They are super expressive and very individualistic creatures. This only… a momma can see and understand. Elsa loves a good head scratch; Ella drools and snoozes on belly rubs. Elsa loves his privacy; Ella needs constant companionship. Elsa loves fish and chunks; Ella likes kibbles. Elsa is moody, bossy and stubborn; Ella is calm, feisty and fun. Elsa is always hungry and only wishes to sleep like a true tabby; Ella eats minimal and gallops and amuses herself every chance she gets. Elsa has dichromic green-blue eyes; Ella has fiery amber eyes. I could go on and this could be a book. But they love each other and me fiercely. They sense my absence and I deeply feel theirs when I am traveling or on the road. They wait for me at the door and I feel empty if I enter a house and they aren’t around doing their signature stretch and tumble over maneuver. I could go hungry but I dare not forget their food. Life, as I knew it, had changed.

Every plan, trip and me not being around involved thinking of ‘what about them’. They became the core of all decisions. Their presence and absence was the nucleus of my actions. Dad chided me about getting them home and then being a negligent pet parent. It took me a whole year and a stubborn Elsa in his teens for my father to understand that they wanted to be left alone to play and thrive and not have us constantly at them. They were to be fed minimally and allowed maximum breathing space. It was safe to say, my dad compared their upbringing to dogs. He assumed I was torturing them by keeping ‘em in a massive 2BHK to run amok, eat and sleep (yes…. such profound torture). But they are happy, playful, cute and cuddly and think up new adventures for me every day. I smack them and then I grab them and love them equally. They are smart enough to know that despite humans being aware of the big dilated pupil routine, it ACTUALLY works. That maneuver completely changes the expression and emotion on their faces and the ones evoked from us. Humans cease to be any form of force in front of our feline counterparts.

When I walk into a room and see Ella, I see a bundle of innocence in its purest form. I see pure love and I see 0 expectations except one of love that’s unconditional in its defined form. She is barely 2 palm sizes tall and white and tiny and in that vast space of a room, I see her button eyes longing for me to hold her. How can I not? How can anyone not? She was christened Minnie and was rescued and fostered with her twin brother Mouse. She gelled superbly well with 3 adult cats in the foster home and showed them all who’s boss at the tender age of 2 months. I loved her to bits as she reminded me of the wildness that’s laying trapped in my heart. My only apprehension lay in separating the siblings. I knew taking them both would be too much so I stuck to just taking Minnie as I needed a female to keep my Elsa in check and give him company. Both neutered, healthy and adorable as they explored each other post being friendzoned and devoid of any natural attraction. They look out for each other just as much as they beat each other up. Ella loves dad and will NEVER miss an afternoon nap beside him or on top of him, (the stance is akin to her having conquered some giant in battle). Meanwhile dad sleeps oblivious of a furball parked on his body somewhere. When she is accidentally/deliberately locked up inside a cupboard or cabinet, Elsa parks himself outside that door until we open it and let her out. This is one of the signature ways of finding where either cat is. Litter trails are another story. Elsa is prissy and clean like any cat. Miss Elsa thinks litter is something to express boundless joy in as she rolls and scatters the fresh lot of it ALL over the place – much to the chagrin of my father who has enough reasons to throw us all out. I watch her go nuts, imagine a smile on her face and then clean up. A routine I am used to :)

2 years into mothering these two has taught me tremendous amount of all things mothers do except being a human mother. As some random poster proudly declared, ‘yes… my children have paws’. I am not sure if now, I ever wish to bear my own or procreate or my better half wishes for one of our own. However, I think that these two do a good job of filling that void. I don’t think of them as temporary or as replacements. I don’t think of them as wild or something to pass a few years or attempt a trial. They are my heart, my song, my love, my kids and my endless stories that escape every time someone asks me about them. They are a reason for many things good in my life and their value is at par if not above having human kin. They may not have the ivy league dream, the marriage and the future, but they have their own individual future. I invest in them with as much love and pampering as I would do my own blood and flesh. I love them fiercely and cannot imagine in any realm that I am less than a mother. I hope that their biological momma is smiling and content that I am keeping her lil ones on a pedestal :)

Paws and purrs!

Elsa: Gata's gato

*Nuzzle* *poke poke* *puurrrrrrrrr*

His 1^st night in my house, my arms and in my bed. I was delighted and yet very vary of handling this fragile, precious clump of life purring like a generator machine. Firoza, the foster caregiver, assured me, “Priyankka this means he has taken to you and feels safe and loved.” I smiled.

Elsa is a 2-month old Tabby-Calico kitten. Born from a rescued stray mom, he was the only 1 of his litter who had taken her sea green eyes and stripes and spots. Thus, looking like a cross between a baby leopard with a gorgeous grey mixed coat and a soft love bundle. Nothing however takes away from his gorgeous button like eyes that keep staring at me and my belongings, the room, the furniture and whatever else the world has to offer his barely few weeks old senses. He had been shuttled from foster home to foster home and was last on the list to be set up for adoption ahead of his more troublesome and less likely adoptees. But, after what seemed like weeks of trouble to just get a cat, Elsa was a 5min decision into my life. Best 5mins of my life.

At this point he has been with me barely 3 weeks, yet he has seen it all. The excitement of the 1^st week. Exploring the house, the people, the corners and the possibilities to create trouble. The 2^nd week he was away from me. Well I was away, in the hospital, being operated upon my leg followed by an intensive recovery phase. The 3^rd week I came home to a feeble and quiet Elsa who refused to come to me with the ease with which he snuggled up to me the 1^st night. I accepted. After all dad had done the caring for both cats: Elsa and me. Elsa took time but brief. He soon warmed up to me. The 1^st night back home for me ended with panic and his 1^st emergency vet visit. Not the way I had planned it. But with enough added panic from Firoza and composed advice from Nishadh (who cares for Elsa’s mum), I was able to get through the evening limping and in intense pain. The heart was already wrenched and worn from extensive emotional bruising from the previous 2 weeks and couldn’t hold anymore for the ordeal with Elsa. The tiny tot that he was, jumped, sneezed, scratched and snuggled up all he could. I was glad to have someone love me back, unconditionally, after a long time. I guess I could say; he came to me at a time when I was broken and needed to feel fixed.

I have grown to accept that my cat is occasionally a yogi, a closet jedi and many characters that just keep springing with each passing day. He loves to treat my dad and me as pawns and pit us against each other; always guessing which team he is ‘batting for’. This especially comes handy during feeding time cuz he knows I am the time and scheduled feeder versus my poor father who gets fedup at the 3^rd painfully long soprano meow and ends up feeding him. His sleep patterns… well most interestingly his positions vary from normal cat like to anarkali-like stance with dramatic human poses. He thinks he is super smart but his mommy is smarter. I know them button eyes and each expression; the most common being – “I’m the cutest thing to walk this earth and you can’t deny me fluffy, unconditional love.” His idea of exercise begins sharp at 6am and involves a live stream of NeedForSpeed. Chasing anything that he pretends is a terrorist mouse and that he is under National Security advisement to take down the target. One of those targets he has recently taken to is a beautiful plastic belle with a golden outfit and a purple feather veil. Poor gal. Whatever did she ever do. I tried to save her… but it was too late (FYI she was exposed by a very amused Abeer who thought she made an excellent candidate for target practice).

The more rarer antics involve getting locked into drawers and cupboards, finally scaling the kitchen counter only to find that the water filter leaked on him, scurrying through garbage and answering my phone. But at the end of the day or at midday when I see that look on his face, that extended paw and a slower than usual gait I know what he wants. To sleep. On my lap or my tummy or my chest. At 1^st with his face near mine – like a James Dean movie being romantic and securing his spot thus making me immobile for the next 3hrs minimum. Once comfortable beyond royal treatment with a cat-spa like experience, he does not hesitate to kick me in the arm or face or extend out his paw and grab my hand to place on his belly. Thereafter, his idea of returning that love is to treat me like his eternal scratch post. I would like to say we have clear communication but clearly our dialects are different.

I can’t complain as I have been touted as lucky for landing 1 of the best pets ever. Not just as a cat but Elsa. He is truly a personality and has amazed even a seasoned vet with his docile behaviour and his trust in me. For a 1^st time pet owner/adopter I feel compelled to be right and to do things right. Moments where you feel that vulnerable life and his full trust in your hands or crawling all over you, a wave of selflessness washes over. I had my maternal hormones kick in in my early 20s. I guess they are indeed on overdrive now. I think of him when I step out and when I see something that invokes a warm affectionate feeling towards my baby Elsa. He is not a pet but a part of my family. Fortunately (as I hoped and wished), he has taken very well to Abeer. Thus, completing the extension to my immediate family as well.


Now dear Elsa, I was named Gata but I am not nocturnal… at least not the way you are you crazy lil button. Good night! (soft kisses and paw).

For more pictures of Elsa visit Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.582486828453094&type=1&l=2488c98578 and Instagram: GataCDO7

The Dark Nights

“Elsa has a fever and needs me” I muttered under a controlled but angry breath to my impatient father.

Dad had not had a good day. I didn’t understand why. He had slept all evening and all night. Selfishly, I was the 1 who needed the respite. A foolish question earlier in the day was how come I didn’t enjoy my hospital visit. Who would imagine that 5 days in the hospital, post-surgery, lying in a 1-dimensional position, staring at 4 very close walls (2 being curtains) and yo-yoing between earth shattering silence and absolute mayhem was “pleasant”. I let it go. Just like I was letting go of a deep breath, which had borne too much in the last 2 weeks. Dad had completely lost it in the lobby of the hospital, thus leaving the cash and insurance counters begging me to control him and hearing them out. I was wheelchair bound, drained and expected to solve everyone’s problems. Problems of people who had gotten my bill wrong the 4^th time and had tested the last ounce of my old dad’s patience. I did the needful. Quietly. Sorted the mess and left.

I was an emotional and psychological wreck. Actually, I controlled myself and made it somehow so ‘wreck’ doesn’t count. I did manage some composure with the help of very vocal and strong friends who didn’t give up. And even though I had the parents (all 3) it seemed like a burden to them or a liability. I was polite to the point of asking them to leave me some nights alone. Nurses would wonder why I didn’t have a relative when others had overbearing 1s around them. My parents weren’t bad. They just didn’t cope well with my injury and silence. I thrived in the chaos of the present.

Yes, I had injured myself. This wasn’t deliberate. Or like Abeer had threatened to leave if I limped. Today anything is possible so I will just keep his words at bay. I was angry with him as well. I injured myself doing something I loved. In pleasing the system and the people in my life, I had what the docs described as – burned myself out. I had it all. Capoeira. The boyfriend. The friend. The freedom blah blah. But sometimes to those who have it all, it’s a burnout to manage it all. With the job and classes and keeping pace with Abeer, I had forgotten that my supposedly tiny frame couldn’t support all the madness. I waited for the break from work to lower my pressures so I can give quality time to few things and people that mattered. Before that transition – along came the big full-stop.

At 1^st I felt comforted and sorted, thinking I have the handholding I need. I have the right people and the right support to get me through smiling like nothing really happened. It wasn’t long before the hand had left mine and I crashed into a wall. After the crash it was the “you can do it” – an effective way to say “clean up the mess you thought wasn’t coming your way.” I didn’t want to do it alone. That wasn’t my plan and not even my contingency. A fight with the boyfriend started the mayhem rollercoaster through hell. Unresolved. Unspoken. Unheard. Unsupported. The office added to my woes as if I didn’t have enough – you see as per ‘tradition’ they punish and effectively nightmarize those who resign. “Terminate her and let the insurance go to hell”. Thanks but what now…

The comfort of picking up the phone and dialling a number seemed like a tedious task with a question mark. Am I calling the love or a former some1? Is the mother gonna descend on me or comfort me? Will the father give answers or let me know for the 10000^th time how I disappointed him? In that state (now in retrospect) even I couldn’t believe how beaten I felt. Tears came naturally while a morsel of food lodged itself in the mouth and refused to go down. With this in tow n refusing to stop, I got admitted, surgery-ed and in what was supposedly recovery. The doc lived up to his promise. Pain management was a breeze what with 2 beeping machine pumps attached to me. It was the mental status that didn’t cooperate with the meds. Terminally ill patients with a plethora of diseases and mentally affected relatives thronged me. I wanted desperately to heal and get out – but their sounds and stories and anguish didn’t let me be. Needed Abeer desperately here. As inappropriate as it was, he balanced me when it came to finding humor in the madness.

But he was far. Disconnected. By choice. His instagram kept me posted of the colors that adorned him but evaded me. I wished to be there with him rather than have him here. It didn’t help soothe my anger. I had nearly given up. Until I got a Are-U-Dead-Or-Alive like message. Like a lost friend who occasionally connects with u. I didn’t know what to make of it. I needed more solutions – not more questions, doubts and fears that I had not tackled before. It had been 3yrs since my last relationship. This was different and I was glad. But not in times like these. Every bone in my body said ask him to come back and be there cuz u want him. Not need him. But want him. I managed to evade that as well. Y ask when u know it aint gonna happen.

In the interim my grief was interrupted by a fedup parent, few well-meaning friends, doctor visits, constantly interrupting aunties and nurses abruptly waking or shaking u up for meds, IV, sponge etc. I kept everything at bay by depending on my dear phone – ONLY window to the outside world. Waiting for a beep, vibrate or a flash. The food I just had to send back untouched unless the parent did the courtesy of finishing it for me. I thought lying quietly and surviving on tea for 4 days will get me through. But the resultant punishment was an extra day+night due to my vitals dipping – stupid girl. I managed to bring them up with liquid diet and begged to be discharged. The excruciating pain whilst taking my 1^st steps and doing all the exercises will be an ever-reminder of how I managed to let them know I can do this effortlessly so let me go. And go they did. The panel was young and understood my plight as well.

I packed up and washed my face and brushed – 1^st time in 4 days. The headless horseman from SleepyHollow wore a far more charming look than me. 2 wks had robbed me of any charm, glow or life. Changing into MY clothes felt a bit weird. The nurses who refused to let me go thought otherwise. They made me smile and the whole staff came up and asked a whole bunch of questions. Thought I was pretty but v quiet. Marriage, boyfriend, work, martial arts, age, etc. A pic of Abeer brought about a gang of giggles. Hugs and funny requests followed my wheelchair ride down to sunlight.

The whole ride home was a quite 1. I felt like I had lost a decade in coma. I waited to see Elsa. He saw me. Ran away and then stuck to dad. It was natural. His nurturer demanded his full attn. But then he came around and snuck up to me. Purred like there was nothing wrong. Until he sneezed and felt warm. Thereafter what I assumed would be a restful welcome home, turned into a calling frenzy, ambulance chasing and vet visiting evening. I had forgotten my pain meds and the leg reminded me of that well. I just wanted Elsa to be ok. Dad went berserk again – why the cat and my leg. Just why? I had brought the cat. I loved him. He was my responsibility. When you love someone you don’t just hold a few select fingers – you hold their hand and never let go. So leg, injury, surgery or whatever the hell… Elsa needed me. I couldn’t ignore that. It cost me deep pockets but I was ready to move anything including forgetting my crutches to have him ok. The vet saw him and gave the meds. I was relieved. I had made it through another slap from Karma. Broken leg in tow.



Now I NEEDED the healing and some love. I needed the care and holding. Right now he purrs in my lap. Occasionally suckling on my fingers and also sneezing on my napkin. Scratches and holds on to me. His way of showing me love I guess. Big eyes and an occasionally paw to me. I accept. Now I just wait with bated breath for the 1 I love and wish to show love in my way. In that corner in his shoulders where I found love 1^st.