Unanticipated Help

The eastern horizon glowed gold and pink, and overhead a half moon peeked out through the low scuttling clouds. The wind cut like knives and shrilled like a mother mourning her slain children. It was getting darker and I was overwhelmed with fear. Huddled underneath a bright green table, I watched as people passed by me. They paid me no heed and so I continued staring at the water that was monotonously dripping from the sides of the table.

Humans always seemed so daunting but today I would not mind being picked up by one of them.  The cold was seeping through my tawny fur and everything was becoming blurry. I could vividly recall the smell of tuna fish and the warmth of a massive fireplace. I saw the café waiter across the street staring off into empty space with a dreamy expression on his face. I think he probably likes the rain for some odd reason. He had a bald head fringed with tufts of orange hair and his beard was salted with white. He looked like a kind man to me, someone I could approach. However I certainly could not grab his attention so I stayed put.

I always felt that women were more compassionate compared to men. Considering that I decided to follow two women who scurried past the table I was under. The sound of my ‘meowing’ was muffled by the pattering of rain and I became more desperate as my attempts to catch their attention proved futile. The women were walking briskly and I realized that I could not possibly keep up with them. Luckily I found shelter underneath the brightly colored awnings of an exquisite French cuisine. However I felt too exposed here and decided to retreat. After staying underneath the awning for another minute or so I prowled back stealthily and crouched underneath my original spot in a miserable heap of fur.

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Suddenly a woman came out of the hotel and bundled me up. She held me tightly against her chest and took me inside the hotel. Fear crept up my body, fresh and strong, and it engulfed me. Cats are known for mistrusting humans and are generally very paranoid. Nevertheless, what choice did I have? I would have to go with this woman and I decided not to resist.  The woman was delivering me to someone else, I realized with a sickening jolt. A fair skinned Caucasian girl who wore a huge grin on her face. She certainly seemed delighted by me. Maybe humans aren’t so bad after all, I decided joyfully. I might even be fed some tuna fish.

Acceptance

It had been a crisp clear autumn day, sunny almost warm, but there were clouds off to the west now. The horse-drawn carriage ride had tired me and my legs felt sore. I limped towards the broken down inn, giddy with excitement. My future, that had seemed bleak a few days ago, was brighter now. I was finally going to become a part of the Etelwins which was what I had worked for my entire life. I had come so close to becoming a wanderer; a person who is not a part of any society.  Even the thought of it makes me shudder. I had cleared the numerous tests that the Etelwins had put me through and I was heady with victory. I had finally succeeded. Living in the magnificent castle with fellow Etelwins was a dream that had come true. I stepped into the inn and was greeted by the innkeeper. He was an old man whose chin was covered with stubble. His skin sagged treacherously and a weary smile brushed his lips. He gestured for me to follow him which I did without a thought.

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He made me stand on a flimsy stool and fumbled with something in his coat. I had the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach and suddenly I was falling. The wind shrilled and I screamed. My screams were drowned out by the noise of the wind. I tried to grab onto something to break the impact of the fall but my fingers found nothing. I hit the ground abruptly but the ground was soft mud and so I was unscathed.  I immediately got up and saw a hat nearby. It was a beautiful lavender hat and I gingerly picked it up. A piece of parchment slid out of the hat and a message was written on it in beautiful cursive writing.

This hat is the only way that you can enter the castle, Good Luck!

My heart pounded like a bird thrashing wildly in her cage. This was turning out to be quite an adventure. Maybe the Etelwins were still testing me and watching me. I decided to embrace courage and wisdom. I hastily stowed the hat inside the back pocket of my ill-fitting breeches and limped towards the unknown.

Zeeton Apocalypse

I walk past grimy buildings plastered with what seems to be carcasses of animals. My heart is pounding fiercely. I wonder why nobody has heard the beating of my heart because it sounds like the beating of a drum. I grip the parchment, my only hope of escape, tightly to my chest. The world has collapsed after the Zeeton apocalypse and the document is a proof of my resistance. People nowadays don't know how to differentiate between a Zeeton sympathizer and an honorable citizen. Maybe because there isn't much honor left.

Zeetons don't prefer this part of the area which is why I linger and investigate. I am still not at ease and i nervously shoot glances towards the dark alley behind me. We anti-zeetons tend to hastily walk towards our destination and don't wander. It's a survival code and we adhere to it. My newly laundered linen shirt is covered in sweat and clings to my back. I remove it and wave it a bit so as to dry it. It has been really difficult to shop for clothes after the apocalypse. We wear what we get. Sometimes I get lucky and find clothes from the ruins of a boutique. There is inexplicable joy in finding expensive looking things for free and these little moments of happiness are all that we can enjoy now. 

I trip over a crumpled empty can and almost topple over but a hand stops my fall. A tall figure wearing a mask has his hands around my waist and I try to resist. I cannot surrender I think to myself determinedly. I viciously bite the persons arm and make a run for it. The stranger grabs me in one long stride and I huff angrily. Suddenly the person takes off the mask and I find myself staring at the beautifully chiseled face of a teenage boy. He's older than me and his auburn hair falls over his steely grey eyes. He is a Zeeton I realize with a jolt.

Two Barks of the Same Tree

I stare out of the window sullenly. I can’t believe that I will have to endure this car ride. Yet again. Going to Karachi every alternative week with my sister seemed like a punishment to me and the views that seemed to stretch for miles intrigued me no longer. The thought of meeting my parents, once an eternal source of joy, also held no charm for me. I never really liked traveling and my sister and I both have the tendency to sleep while driving. She was behind the wheel and so I feared for our safety. This trip might be a chance for us to bond or it might become another bad memory. I expect the latter. When you argue about even the most trivial issues with your sister it becomes hard not to expect the worse. Some arguments leave me boiling with rage and a sense of hurt; others make me feel ashamed. The stormy relationship that we shared still continues though. I fidget with the hem of my shirt as I measure my words carefully so as to avoid conflict. As I look towards my sister to talk to her I realize that she has drifted off to sleep. I nudge her angrily and she is jerked awake. She casts a furtive glance at me and I cross my arms and shoot venomous glares at her. She could have gotten me killed I think furiously. I obviously point this out to her and listen to no justifications. I caution her and advise her to place strands of her hair in the sunroof. She looks at me baffled and I tell her how it keeps one awake while they are driving. She agrees even though she feels ridiculous. I enjoy her discomfort and snigger discreetly but she hears me. I wait for a reprimand but surprisingly she starts snorting uncontrollably and our laughter drowns out the music. 

While I sit with her in the dusty old Toyota I feel infinite.

An Infestation

Sometimes I reminisce about the joy of being a child, huddling in a crocheted orange blanket with my mother while she narrated stories to me. I can recall my grandmother telling me about the sinister yet seductive fairies who wanted to cross a mountain to murder several nymphs. I can’t seem to recall the time when my cousin was apparently possessed by multiple ghosts. I just remember the stories she told me about her experience and her absurd facial expressions. There are so many enchanting tales, but they have all become vague memories now. Regrettably even the story tellers cannot seem to recall the tales they filled my ears with. There is only one story that actually stands out and that I remember details of.

It wasn’t a story about fairies, dwarfs, ghosts, princesses but a story about a bug infestation. When my mother was young, a girl lived in her house whose hair overflowed with bugs. Apparently only the bad girls suffered from this infestation during my mothers time, girls who lied, cheated and never studied.  So this young girl, who was called Baby, was the foulest of the foul. She liked shirking from household chores and loved cheating and telling lies. Some say that she was a compulsive liar and could not help but lie, they pitied her. The bugs however did not.

One fine night as my mother was sneakily walking towards the living room to watch TV she saw baby gliding on the floor. My mother shrieked but baby seemed to be in a trance. She slithered towards the door resembling a skinny python while mother just stood there with wobbly legs in her flowery shalwar kamiz. Suddenly my mother saw the ‘million’ bugs that were carrying her towards the door. They lived in her hair and plotted the kidnapping while Baby remained oblivious.  My mother claims that Baby was being taken to the land of doom where all the evil kids went. 

So my mother reacted by throwing an entire jar of pickled mangoes on Baby and successful woke everyone up (except for Baby obviously). By the time everyone woke up and came to the living room baby had disappeared. My grandfather was apparently the hero of the story since he successfully retrieved Baby from the land of doom where she was being held against her will. She came back with a bald head and a transformed personality. She was now the epitome of honesty and volunteered to do even mothers chores.  I just don’t understand why the bugs did not take mother away for sneakily watching TV at night. That was the only flaw in mothers story, a made up story I realize now.

The Fall

When you’re a kid there is a certain charm in doing what you’re not supposed to do. You see parents admonishing their children left and right – don’t touch this, don’t eat that etc. The funny thing however is that most homes have this one place that is out of bounds for the little ones. For us, it was always that little gap between our first floor terrace and the garage roof. A three foot leap from either side, it was a very convenient passage from one end of the house to another. I am almost positive that the wrinkly old architect had knowingly sniggered to himself while sketching the flaw in his blueprints.

Being a child gives you a certain degree of imagination. And because I was a strange kid, I thought of myself as a daring explorer, jumping across the gaping hole of a volcano to escape a tripe of wild monkeys. And so there I was one day, trying to fend off the baboons; and I slipped. My left hand frantically reached out for anything to grab onto and miraculously found a supporting rod. During the agonizing seconds that I managed to remain suspended in mid-air, I saw my life flash before my eyes and my heart had strangely crept up my throat. Then as dramatically as any Bollywood movie scene, my sweaty hand lost grip of the rod and I plunged into the depths of a volcano. A very shallow volcano it was, as something metallic broke my fall, I felt myself losing consciousness.

Meanwhile the sound of the falling had alerted my mother, who ran downstairs in two shakes of a lambs tail while successfully managing to continually scream my name at the top of her voice. I was smacked lightly on the face a couple of times and was brought back to reality. The look on my mother and brothers face portrayed the situation perfectly, they looked deathly pale and rightly so. It’s not everyday someone falls off the first story of your house. I was sure I had broken something, a rib maybe? A leg perhaps? But no, I was a completely fine and effortlessly walked back inside the house with my family. Turns out I fell onto a pedestal fan our guard had so smartly tucked away behind the pillars of the facade of the house. That had partially absorbed some of the impact energy and the rest will always be shrouded in mystery. But as my mother began hurling a barrage of spontaneous questions at me and my brother laughed at my luck in the background, the flame of my imagination was rekindled. This was when I contently thought to myself, ‘I am indestructible.'