Meow!

 

As if re-entering this world of ours from some other, Rishi woke up into the dark night, dream-thoughts and dream-feelings pulsing loudly in his mind.

 

He was awake now blink-blink, and after an age of slow-motion blankness, a second later, his mind caught up with him.

 

His mind didn’t like being awake again.

 

For the first few moments, his mind clutched desperately to the vivid and intoxicating world of his dreams, trying to dive back and once again cast light on submerged memories and wants, to again lead a life independent of the person or the thing called Rishi.

 

His mind didn’t like being awake again.

 

“What the fuck?”, Rishi thought.

 

His eyes were open now, blurry-lazy but open, he could feel himself breathe, he could hear the slow rotating of the ceiling fan. He was lying on his bed; his bed-cloth was half-way across the bed and his neck felt damp from the still-malevolent heat of an Indian summer night.

 

His eyes adjusted slowly to the dark. Between the clock on the wall and him was near impenetrable darkness and he couldn’t read the time. So he looked a bit away from the clock and from the corner of his eyes, he saw the hazy, indistinct formation of the clock’s hands. They formed a tight ‘V’ which lay over to one side. It was three-ten. Three-ten in the fucking morning. Was it just three-ten, not say a decent five-thirty or something? His eye-corners replied that No, it really was three-ten. But why ever …

 

Meow!

 

The soft, clear, high-pitched, pitiful, stretched-out sound of a cat mewing filled the air and Rishi’s arm-hairs stood on end. Adrenaline pumped, sloshed, gushed into his system and he felt goose-bumps break out like a manic rash all over his exposed chest, legs and forearms. His breathing had stopped.

 

Meow!

 

It’s a fucking cat, Rishi thought. Relax, he thought. His body was scared tight, painfully clenched up and again, he told himself, with an assuring tone of voice, just relax. It’s a cat, his logical mind pointed out dryly, what you heard was the mewing of a dumbass cat.

 

Meow!

 

The cat mewled again. Fear shot through his body again. Calm reasoning disappeared in a hot flash. Inside his head, buried and forgotten, ancient fear impulses now lumbered back to life. His animal mind was back inside a prehistoric cave - blinded stupid by the darkness, it reacted to sounds with a fundamental, danger-or-no-danger response. The slightest, outer chance of danger and survival instincts would kick in and the mind would then need to choose, between flight or fight.

 

Meow!

 

It’s a fucking cat, you fucker, a cat. The breath flowed out smoothly and sweetly as this calming thought finally took hold. His body eased out. He took in a couple of quick gulps of air, feeling foolish for that extreme fear-reaction. Scaredy cat, his mind now punned, mocking him gently.

 

Meow!

 

A cat, just outside his bedroom window. He lived on the bottom-floor of a two-storey building, which meant his apartment (or his flat, as it was called in Bombay) was almost at ground-level. If he were to go to the window and look outside, the cat would be a few feet away and below him.

 

Meow!

 

If need be, I’ll just maybe shout a bit, but balls I am going to get up for that, he thought. Fucking cat, it will go away, won’t it?

 

Meow!

 

God, he hated this, lying awake in the dark, trying to ignore the one sound that had woken him up and now promised to keep him awake. Aaargh, he growled into his pillow resignedly. He was a heavy sleeper. His long work-hours and a couple of pegs assured him of a deep sleep at night. But he was not quick to fall back to sleep once awoken. In fact, he almost never …

 

Meow!

 

How loud should I scream without alarming the neighbourhood? Like this? Aaayyyy!, he screamed but it was barely even normal speaking volume. But what if the cat had heard it and had taken off, in all decency?

 

Meow!

 

Fuck! Ok, (sigh) once again but louder. Aaaiyyyyyyy! The sound resonated nicely inside his tiny room. AAAAAAAAAAYYYYY! He waited with his ears almost cocked.

 

Meow!

 

Oh fuck me!

 

Meow! Meow! Meow!

 

It almost seemed to be calling out to him, the cat. Meow!, won’t you come? Won’t you come? You are awake now, please come, meow!, please, look at me.

 

Meow!

 

Fuck you cat! He thought of the long day ahead, a series of painful meetings all lined up through the day and he thought of whether this bad night’s sleep would adversely affect the day, making him all yawny and look disinterested and not quite alert or some such shit.

 

Meow!

 

Let me think of something else. What did I see on TV today, anything nice? Ah, the Matrix was on once again on HBO, wasn’t it? But I didn’t see it. That movie is now all over, empty, juiceless. I have …

 

Meow!

 

I am flying, I am flying out of my window, out through the terraces and flying slowly, looking down at the still landscape of suburban Bombay from 400 feet up in the air, high above the trees, the clouds …

 

Meow!

 

I am breathing in, yes, that’s good, and now, I am breathing out. Yes, nice, thank God I know how to meditate, I’ll quickly relax and fall asleep for another two hours and …

 

Meow!

 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no …

 

Meow!

 

Just breathe, man.

 

Meow!

 

Oh fuck it, and Rishi got up on his bed. He put on his slippers and feeling stupid and angry, strode towards the window. God, it’s dark outside, where’s that fucking cat? Where IS it?

 

Meow!

 

Sitting outside, thick-haired, with eyes full of wicked desire, eyes full of mischief, eyes that hinted at endings, eyes that promised beginnings, eyes that seduced and pulled and mesmerized, two, glinting coals, eyes, eyes, eyes, was a naked man. He was on all fours, his tail slashing the darkness, looking at Rishi and smiling. He curled and pouted ancient lips and made a sound.

 

Meow!