Moonju, My Casket of Memories

 This year had been an unusually peaceful one for me, personally. There was no reason for it not to end quietly. At least, that’s what I believed. I thought it would end well. But today something happened. An incident that might seem very very silly to many.

So, the girls in the room opposite to mine were raising two kittens. The mother cat had lived in the hostel amid a constant stream of dogs. The girls rescued the kittens despite the hostel rules, after seeing the mother cat’s earlier kitties being fed to dogs almost immediately after birth. This time, they raised them within the cramped safety of a single room inside the hostel. Whenever the girls go out, they would bring the kittens to my room for safekeeping. The kittens spent a lot of time here, knocking over dishes, hiding inside cupboards, scratching at the cardboard box where my books were kept. They weren’t close enough to me to cuddle, and I neither had the time nor the space to truly care for them. More than anything, I knew that if I grew attached, I wouldn’t survive a future loss. So, I let them roam freely in my room and kept my distance. All I did was make sure they were vaccinated by accompanying with their foster mother.

Today…… I don’t know why, on a day when I usually carry my lunch box, I chose to come back to my room to eat. I had just started serving rice onto my plate when I heard a loud commotion and screams from outside. I rushed out and saw the girl who had adopted the kittens crying uncontrollably. By then, I sensed what had happened. I couldn’t do anything other than holding her close. A dog had attacked one of the kittens savagely, mercilessly right in front of her eyes. There was still a faint flicker of life in that tiny body, but it lay utterly still, as if it already knew it was done fighting. My heart already knew what my lips refused to say.. it wouldn’t survive. Its helpless, broken face brought back too many memories I had buried deep. I watched as the last signs of life slipped away from the kitten. Beside me, the girl who had adopted her collapsed into wild, inconsolable sobs.

In that girl who was wailing in grief, I saw myself from a few years ago.

I remembered sitting in that same corridor, crying when I heard that Moonju had died. The last image I have of Moonju is of her sleeping on my clothes, right on top of the suitcase that I had packed before leaving home for Hyderabad. When I was leaving, all I kept telling my mother was, “Amma, Moonjune nokkikkolane (please take care of Moonju).” Later, during video calls, I saw that Moonju would hear my voice and search around the house for me. Watching that broke my heart. And eventually, I stopped asking to see her on the calls because I was not able to stand watching it.

If I remember correctly, it was three months after I arrived here that my mother called one afternoon. When she told me Moonju was gone, that a bunch of stray dogs had torn her apart, I felt numb at first. Then... I broke down, crying wildly, insisting that I needed to see her immediately. I was convinced by myself that Moonju met with that fate only because I had left home; that if I had been there, I wouldn't have let anything of this sort happen to her. My friends struggled unsure of how to console me. I remember how, finally, over a bottle of beer, Rensa and I sat together on the terrace talking about how Moonju would be watching me from heaven... We sent gifts and kisses to the Cat Heaven.

                                                  

For a long time after that, the sound of a cat crying anywhere would make me anxious. I carried a deep resentment toward dogs. For a while, I even walked past cats without acknowledging them. But slowly, I turned into that “cat mom” again, the one who would sit or lie down wherever she spotted a cat, just to pet them. Somewhere deep inside, I think I believed that I might find Moonju again in one of them. After Moonju, her mother gave birth to many more. Other cats came into our home. Many became favourites of different family members. Keshavan was achan’s pet, Pottus was Chinnu’s, and Velu was my amma’s. But I could never love any of them the way I loved Moonju. And none of them ever loved me the way she did. No matter how many years pass, Moonju will always live in my heart.

                              

Somewhere beyond this fear and violence, there must be a place where small, fragile and furry lives are safe. What I said back then, in grief and half-drunken hope, feels truer today than ever before.

Cat Heaven… I love you.

If such a place exists, I know Moonju is there. And she isn’t alone anymore.