The feline child was sleepy. He had been napping all morning and all afternoon. His paws were in the air, his belly proud and chubby. When evening beckoned, they tried to wake him up with the sinful odour of fish. He didn’t even sniff. They brought milk under his nose. He didn’t bat an eyelid. As he snored away to glory, everybody wondered if he would ever wake up and go outside for his long stroll. Then the chicken broth woke him up.
She hopped along with her mother and aunt. The older females were busy looking at sarees for her cousin’s upcoming wedding. The little girl was bored. This was the third shop they had entered that day. “Ma, I want to go home,” she whined. Her mother said they would be done soon. As they looked at sari after sari and scrutinised prints and borders, she decided to inspect. Her curiosity found a set of small stairs leading to the floor above. There she spotted a pink sari with pretty blue flowers which she wanted immediately. Ma said no. “You don’t even wear sarees!” But the aunt understood. The child never complained again, as she hugged her new belonging tightly and the adults continued being choosy.
He left her without a word. It was just a sudden snap of all ties that left her lost. She held her phone and stared for hours. She almost dialed his number, but stopped herself when she remembered that he belonged to somebody else. She waited for that call. That call where he’d say he had been wrong. That call where he’d say he wanted things back to the ways of the past. Her hands hurt from holding the phone. Her mind ached from thinking and hoping. The call never came.