Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

It was the worst of times. What the Dickens! The weather was gloomy and muggy, the sun had firmly tucked itself into a warm blanket. The persistent drizzle, though calling it even a drizzle would demean the word, was yet undecided if it should go the full Monty or not. An irritating drizzle that will get you wet, yet it doesn’t look like rain. Dark, cold, I mean as much cold as Chennai could be, and depressing to say the least.

The mood elevator, the steaming hot pakoras and bhajis were denied. My wife had fallen prey to the cholesterol lobby. 

And in the background Mukes’s soulful voice was asking the very question, the answers for which I sought. “Duniya banane wale kya tere man mein samiyee, kahe ko duniya banayi.”

The mood had, I thought, also percolated down to Chutki, the philosopher cat which owns us. She looked soleful, lost in her own thoughts. She tried out poses before she curled up, feet tucked neatly in, her head up and the eyes  wide open. Her version of the Odin statue now perfected, she cast a glance at me, seeming to say, “ask what’s on your mind.?” Her unblinking, piercing eyes, I could tell, was reading my mind, but yet she wanted me to spell it out. 

I did not want to start off with “what is the purpose of life,” having burnt my finger with that thought process earlier. I did certainly not want her “to serve me” look. (Check out my earlier blog 

https://randomramblingsofareluctantblogger.in/2024/05/18/a-metaphysical-dialogue-with-the-cat/)

With Mukesh still entreating in the background, I thought of a stealth approach. Why not make it about her? ” How’s that your breed has this air of arrogance? Are you all so special? Look at the dogs, so loyal and understanding…” I had hardly finished when the impassive look turned to disdain. “Don’t even talk about those unevolved beings,” her voice rang in my mind.

The gloomy weather was turning darker. The mood, even more so. And Chutki, deciding to cheer a low-on-spirit human, took a few steps towards me, rolled over, belly up and asked me to pet her. Her purring reassured me that service to her excellency was in itself a goal I should strive for. The reward? Her purring, which kept getting louder. Now I have heard many a cat lovers, cat whisperers and counsellors say that the purring has healing effects. And I might have veered towards that theory given that my mood had now transformed and now had me singing in the rain. 

The reason for the high was not the purring. It was the materialising of a piping hot plate of pakoras. The wholesome aroma in the atmosphere kicked  the dopamine into action. And almost on cue, rain too had decided to shed it’s shyness and began to pour.

And there it was, a delightful downpour and delicious hot pakoras. And Mukesh in the background crooning “barkha Rani zara jam ke barso…” it was the best of times.

The philosopiccal questions can now wait.