"Poo" The Wild Cat Bites

PROLOGUE:

Different animals at various intervals get introduced as we grow up.

To start with;

- A canine, Mr. Browny in Bangalore becomes my first non-human friend

- Then follows a memorable & an imaginary-horse, Blaze, which takes us (Siddy & I) on a whimsy ride in Gulbarga

- Now an undomesticated Felis, Mr. Poo joins the animal-pals wagon and I have my own apprehensions as to what this Poo has in store for me

Our house had an open veranda and it was accessible by some wild cats and ‘Poo’ was a very frequent tourist to this place.

He had particularly become famous in our family only for its dangerous appearance. It was scary, wild by all means, wicked, heavy and had real sharp teeth. It was little less for a tiger but more for a cat. Only thing is that it didn’t roar.

Why did I name him “Poo”?

Perhaps I named him Poo instantly after his first spotting; ugh! he (cat) looked just as clumsy as real ‘Poo’.

He came frequently for rodents and rarely in stealing milk, meat, etc. from our house. It was a crouching cat in search of hidden rodents.

He never came on to the floor but used to settle down on the roof and shelves. He had become routine for us and we never bothered to harm him (Poo) and vice versa. In short, none in our house dared to mess with him. Unknowingly, Poo caught our attention and predominantly mine. Also we had a hint that it would not spare us if we messed up with him. It indirectly posed an arrogant attitude, “don’t mess with me, otherwise???”

The Backdrop is ‘Sondige’ (Rice Wafers) Prep.

It is peak summer and soaring mercury levels dangled between 40 ºC to 45ºC.

Since Enchanting Gulbarga formed almost the crown of the Karnataka and as mercury levels peaked in summer, it was apt for this wafer preparation.

It’s no ideal time than this for mom to setup ‘’Wafers’ union among her Upper-galli clan.

It’s a warm & an amiable morning as I see over fifteen ladies summered up on the opposite terrace of our cow-lady, Mrs. Kalpana. Mom seems to be the principal player of this ladies band since I notice her giving some directions to rest of the folks, who’ve assembled there.

“Hey partner, do you have any clue as to what’s the activity atop Mrs. Kalpana ‘S terrace” I inquire with Siddy who is seen posted on it (the terrace) already.

“Um! Mr. Late-riser Vamy, you seem to have missed an important update last evening. Its rice-wafers union that’s molded up here and I am enjoying this” he titters from that house top whilst he replies.

“Ah! This seems to be a stroppy idea to me as I see no fitment in this womenfolk bustle” as I sound a little chauvinistic.

“You little rascal how dare you utter those heavy words” as mom scolds amidst her wafer prep commotion.

“Mom I’m sorry as I don’t mean anything here as I just thought it’s a gloomy idea for a shiny, summer morning” I rationalize my previous, silly statements.

“Mind you Brat before you blather anything like that in the future. You better freshen up and grab that breakfast” she cautions as well as instructs me about my morning routine.

“Done deal” I scream from below.

I chomp on the subcontinent’s popular breakfast, the tasty rice cakes, ‘Idli’, with peanut chutney.

I surge out of the house and sense being misplaced for some reason. I get a feeling of a ‘lone-wolf’ discarded from the pack just for of one simple reason that the entire Upper-Galli is assembled on the opposite terrace.

“Ah! Rice wafer festival it seems” I whine within.

“Hey bro, why don’t you come over and be a part of this party” Bind calls me with eagerness.

“OK sure” I say.

I take a loathing prowl up the tarnished stairs with splintered tiles and an eroded hand rail, which curls and leads to the most infamous terrace of this morning, where the rice-wafer hubbub is under way. I stand next to Siddy, who is sitting duck in arranging some gears & utensils.

“Mom, how is this Sondige (Rice-wafers) prepared and why do we need such as galore of folks for this” I ask a whirring question in between the buzzing troop.

“It’s as simple as it gets Sonny. Listen up;

- Rice and sago are finely ground in a flour machine, and then red-chilies, asafetida, cumin seeds (jeera), salt are added

- It’s boiled till it attains porridge state

- Later, the semi-solid paste is put on a cloth and dried, when mercury is rising

- Then the dried flakes are carefully removed by wetting the cloth from behind

- Finally the dry chips are deeply fried in oil which is nothing but crispy, flavorsome, Indian wafers

- This popular food item is certainly a group activity involving several women since all of them can go Dutch on the cost and the efforts can be dispersed yet results being the same”

She conveys it meticulously well.

“Wow, thanks mom” I say as well as I appreciate her patience amid this buzz.

“Son, for some strange reason you seemed averse since the day’s start, just relax and if it disinterests you, you may play other games” she soothes me.

“Thanks again for those comforting words mom but you see, all my pals have jammed up here and I am a loner out there” I complain.

“I leave it up to you as you ought to enjoy this unguarded time” she subtly hints.

I see fuming porridge is being laid on the clothes uniformly by ladies and notice Siddy and sisters pulling this semi-solid paste from the cloth and are munching.

“Hey fella, this wafers concept is seriously unexciting and boring, lastly neither does it taste good too as it’s so yuck” I gag after I swig-in some paste.

“No boy, it will be good to guard these wafers from trespassers and straying crows once it’s meant for drying” he utters with excitement.

“Chuck you and this lame idea as I think its better I resort to my solo playing methods” I grumble to myself and walk away from this jangle.

Am preoccupied and equally anxious as to, what solo play method I opt at home?

I barge into the house and try dragging my toy-kit from beneath the cot. I pull up the machine gun but the trigger in my Leo Toys gun seems to be jammed, which is ceasing to fire plastic pellets. I dump it back in the kit with frustration. I clamber remaining playthings in the kit but nothing fascinates me as I am done-n-dusted with all of them (my toys chattels).

I climb up the mezzanine floor, where all the house-hold junk is plunked with quite a few notable spider webs netted across the walls. I scramble like a bumbling Rag-picker in the rubbish for almost fifteen minutes now with no luck yet.

“I hate this day” I yell loudly as I fail to trace that non-existent, hypnotic toy in attempt to engage myself.

As I dribble down the metal steps in despair, I spot a twinkling object in the midst of the dingy room. Curiosity kicks in as my mood is suddenly lit-up with this abrupt spotting. I go close to the object, as the shimmer on it fades before I realize it’s one of super-dad’s, used shaving razors.

“Ah! Can this be my weird gizmo of the day?” I ask myself a question.

My think-tank opens from nowhere as I murmur to self about a possible paper craft.

With all excitement to craft a paper rose, I run to the room for some loose paper. Suddenly I hear some vessels clank on the kitchen roof as I spot our infamous feline guest, Poo. He freezes and I lock my sight with his and we both are in no mood to dislodge from our grungy stare at each other.

Razor is firmly grasped in between my right index finger & thumb as I want to use this as decoy to scare him.

“Poo I shall slash you with this shaver-blade” I shout to invoke fear in him and as if he understands my dialect but surely does my body-language.

He takes a step forward towards me and this cat’s meow sounds like a roar for a moment in displaying his sharp teeth as a fitting counter to my metal razor trick.

The situation turns more hostile as I grow startled and grouchy at his intimidation. In an attempt to warn him further, I just want to demonstrate the crabby, gib-cat as to how sharp my tool is.

I raise my left arm frontward and take the blade to prove its sharpness.

“Hey Poo, its better you refrain from a possible fight” I warn him hesitantly.

He roars (I mean, meows) to retort and in the pretext of scaring him further, I put the blade deep inside my flesh and this amiss results into my chopped off left, little finger.

This uncalled for melodrama between a rogue-cat and mad-me upshots into profuse bleeding from my dermis. With an under-dog feeling in front of a ranting-cat, I look at my fresh wound and realize that a couple of gallons of blood have already flown down the drain. My little finger hangs on with a thin strand of flesh.

Seeing this gory sight, there erupts a blood-curdling scream from me as the entire clan from the opposite terrace lands in front of my house in a flash.

Poo sees red here and in no time he hops on to the kitchen’s ventilator, halts for a second, gives back that sassy look at me and disappears.

“Mom, mom, Poo bit my finger” I scream and I run outside with an excessive bleeding and a floppy finger. A mighty crowd of sullen onlookers gather outside as I weep endlessly.

“Oh! My bleeding heck, what did you do to your hand” she questions in shock (looks like she ignored my shrieks cursing Poo).

My little finger is rapidly losing its connection with my body as it is only hanging on a think filament of flesh. She immediately tears off a strand of cloth from her cotton saree and lodges my little finger back in position and ties it around my palm in arresting the bleeding.

She doesn’t bother to ask the reason for the injury or the final wafer product but immediately prepares to rush me to our family Doc.

Our Doc stays 5-6 miles away and it will surely be a non-peaceful, elongated and a painful journey for more than half an hour in the man ridden cycle rickshaw.

“Hey Chandra come on, let’s rush this little monster to our doc quickly. He does some or that other stupid thing, when his dad is not around” she complaints as well as pleads her to tag along with us.

“Wait, let me snatch my hand bag and also direct Mom-in-law to take care of these kids” as she bumps inside to instruct Siddy’s Granny.

We walk up half a furlong to hunt for a cycle-rickshaw. We spot one and an old man is resting on the seat meant for the passengers. Looks like, he’s smitten by Gulbarga’s heat wave.

“Hey Mister” mom taps to wake up the snoozing rickshaw rider.

“Hey lady, am not going anywhere, I am resting and would you mind finding another ride please” he refuses out-rightly.

“Please mister, don’t snub our ride-request as my boy is deeply hurt and he’s losing a lot of blood, we need immediate med attention here” she pleads him politely.

“Oh! Sorry indeed, I obtain my pardon for disobeying your ride-plea” he seeks forgiveness.

“Bravo, you are indeed a Good Samaritan, appreciate your kindness Mister, let’s hurry now” Aunt praises him.

Aunts ascend the rickshaw as mom hops on too and I sit in between them. Our rider-man first pushes the vehicle a couple of meters to gain the momentum before he leaps on to the rider-seat. He peddles like he has had no food for decades.

Sun as usual mocks with his agonizing heat from the top. The rickshaw rider is in no hurry to pull his cycle quickly (he surely lacks common sense in sensing a medical emergency).

“Vamy, what did you do to Poo to attract him near you”? Aunt kicks of an unwanted interrogation.

“Gosh, am I caught off-guard here and does Poo’s trumped-up-story be leaked now” I mutter in fear.

“You see, aunt, I was playing in the living room, suddenly I hear some metal clang in the kitchen and when I go there, I spot our wild Poo, who’s busily drinking milk. I try shooing him away but he grabs my same hand (left one) and mercilessly tears off my little finger out of it” I make-up an out-and-out lie.

“Idiot, I am sure you are lying as there was no milk left after I used it up completely in the morning for tea-coffees for the wafer ladies union” as mom catches me two-faced.

“No mom, I am not lying, I didn’t see the milk but he came to grab something on the floor and I assumed Cats only drink milk and hence I thought so…,” I cleverly prove to her.

“But, you see, cats normally scratch as their first defense and often don’t bite and moreover, how did it precisely catch hold of only your little finger” as Aunt cracks another killer (question) to me.

Looks like I am caught lying this time and I have no other make-ups but to fake the loudest of cries in the middle of the busy main road.

The rickshaw rider has a freight of his life with my loud shriek that he trembles his cart almost into a nearby ditch alongside the road. I suppose, with his years of riding skill, he manages to steer us to safety in no time.

Mom and Aunt are equally shocked and express, “Oh! God you saved us by the skin of your teeth, thanks Mister”

“OK, you little fiend, we agree that Poo bit your finger off. Now you don’t scare us with your deafening shrieks and cries” mom puts across sternly to me and so does the Rickshaw driver but submissively.

“Alas! I got saved” I whisper with a momentary sigh.

I bluff that the Poo, bit my finger mercilessly (thanks to the bluffing lessons from our “Boxer and his pony tales”). Poor mom and Aunt blindly believe me.

Finally we reach our family Doc whom I always thought was a magician cum Doctor as he has some sort of healing touch within him (I think so).

“Good after noon Doc” Mom and Aunt greet him.

“Good afternoon ladies; it’s a long time since I saw you. What’s the trouble with this brat this time” he greets us as well as makes inquires in not wasting much of his time.

Mom hurriedly says, “An untamed cat in our locality bit Vamy’s little finger off, please help him to stitch it back”

“Okay, don’t worry, let me examine first and I shall treat accordingly, please stay calm Miss, he utters those sweet words of assurance.

He starts off with his first aid procedures and I am asked to narrate as to what happened whilst the Doc is examining me?

I do the same bluff but the Doc becomes more introspective in not buying my reason.

“Hmm! I see kid, a cat bites you this time” He is repeating the same question over and time again about the unseen teeth marks, which barely exists.

I sense I’ll be caught guilty lying here and I suddenly fake an earsplitting yell yet again.

“Whoa! Cool kid, cool down, I agree with you” he says to me worriedly. For a moment he almost has had his sutures go out of the alignment with my loudest cry.

Thus he’s forced to stop his questioning as he gives me a swift and a complete medical treatment. Also he administers me with an anti-vaccine drug for a cat bite because of my bluffs.

“Thank you Doc, it’s been so kind of you as always. Will see you soon with the follow-ups (treatment)” mom bids adieu to the Doc.

“It’s my pleasure in serving you, bye. Kid, Vamy you get well soon and don’t you mess with that cat again” He cautions me with a naughty wink.

“Bye-bye Doc, and you have a good day ahead” I wish him in return with a moaning face.

The same sloppy rider waits outside the dispensary and no surprise that we see him napping yet again.

“I swear; look at this sleeping giant, he has dozed off again” mom mocks and tells Aunt.

“Wake up mister, it’s time for us to head back” aunt taps him to get him off his snooze.

“Sorry ladies, come let’s go and hope the kid is fine now” he responds with some concern.

“Yes gent, he has been treated well and he’s sort of ok now, anyways thanks for asking” mom replies.

Whilst we ride back home, wafers is undoubtedly never on my mind but a baggage of worries that I might have lost my little finger permanently or the questions about my evening playtime with Siddy with a bandage.

“I surely want to trounce that ugly Poo, when I spot him next at home” as mom takes an oath.

Bizarrely, I worry about unwanted harassment to the poor, Poo for no mistake of his as I hear mom swearing at him (Poo).

We reach home and I am seen with a life size, white, bandage and without a doubt, I like everyone’s pity and attention on me.

Grumbling anger on hapless Poo is on each person’s lips and everybody affirms a round of whipping on Poo’s next glimpse anywhere in the Upper-Galli.

“Poor Poo, I am extremely sorry and God you please save this animal” as I honestly pray inside.

Evening passes by with some gossiping and wafers extraction from the terrace. First round of wafers are served at home and it tastes more delicious than in the noon and much better than I imagined as they are served hot & fried and I love that crispy crunch on every bite.

I hit the bed much early with an aching palm and for the first time, I learn about a feeling called guilt. The blames on innocent Poo haunts me as I take oath in not repeating such things in future.

For a moment I pity Poo as he was absolutely harmless in the morning and he did nothing at all to me. I take him as a bait to escape from a round of trashing by mom.

EPILOGUE/ ENDING:

The wound healed and the finger got attached to my palm slowly by only leaving visible suture marks.

At least my worries of losing my little finger faded away but not the memories of wafers or the false charges on Poo or the entire drama that I structured just to escape from mom’s beatings.

To date Siddy’s and my folks think my famous injury was because of a cat’s bite but the above truth, which was concealed for almost 3 decades is now in the open. Poor Poo, the innocent “Felis Catus” (cat) did not harm me at all.

Strangely, we didn’t spot Poo in the Galli after this incident and I link it to my guilt-ridden prayers to God to save him.