(New Year Special #1)
With 2011 ready to be wrapped up in cold storage, only to be accessed via future bookmarks and reminiscence of the past, here is one of my dear lazy cats talking about an average day this December. She has chosen to end this year pictorially, saving up memories of savoury dishes and days spent doing nothing and to top it all, showcasing her queen-sized life on this petty blog of mine. So here goes:
“Wrapping up 2011, *Chowki Style”
D says the year is drawing to a close,
not that I really mind.
As long as I have my routines to keep,
nothing ever seems a grind.
I admit though, I get late rising…
drat this cruel chill!
The mornings are such a foggy cream,
and the mist ain’t no thrill.
My sleepy bones stretch out in yoga,
a precise quarter past ten.
If a honking car plays spoilsport,
I put out my tongue at them.
Often I wish we picnicked at a farm,
where there’d be fish to surprise!
But fishy-fantasy I keep at bay,
when my soul is deep in exercise.
When ablutions are done, I look around,
the empty balcony is no fun!
So up to the old terrace I climb,
and they’re all there in the sun.
The golden sunshine is warm and cheery,
and lures me into a catnap or two.
Ah! the delight of an after-sleep snooze
for an overworked cat is the thing to do.
The sun is now high, up in the sky,
and those mice in the belly insane.
For a cat like me, who slaves all day,
going without food is a pain!
I smile at the company to get noticed,
but they are in an ignoring mood.
I am not offered lunch or a cushioned chair,
huffed and puffed I sit down to brood.
Then, at long last, D’s Grandmother gets up…
she puts the peapods aside.
Combing her hair and straightening her apron,
she picks the keys beside.
I run around as she climbs down,
and the kitchen doors are unhooked.
I sniff and grin as magic unfolds,
and fish for the family is cooked.
Fireworks go up in the night sky sometimes,
sometimes I see the moon greying.
D tells me I have had too much to eat;
I fall asleep when she’s still saying.
I cannot afford nights on the roof you see,
in cold winds that howl.
For the next morning there’ll be yoga again,
and fresh-water fish served in a bowl.
(D’s Brown Cat)
* In case you were wondering, Chowki is short for “Chowkidar” (meaning “guard” in Hindi). D and her family christened me thus because of my innate tendencies of sitting by the door.