I am not a cat person at all. Dogs, somewhat yes, especially the small cuddly ones, yet I can’t handle their licking. I just like to pet them a little, that’s all. Cats are secretive. They judge you from windowsills and decide if you’re worth a blink. Neither did I have any cat connection until recently.
After yoga, around 7.30 am, I go for my morning walks. Going around the colony, then entering the M block park, I take a few rounds on the walking track.
As I finished the first round by the old neem tree, I saw my friend Rayman sitting, feeding a cat, the colour of the late-afternoon sun.
“Hey, Rayman! What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Running a cat café?” I shook hands with her.
“Kitty, kitty,” I called aloud. She did not care that I existed.
“Her name is Jiji,” said Rayman, pouring some cat food from her pouch. “She has a crooked ear and a habit of sitting like a sphinx while the food is laid before her.”
“Looks like you are really fond of cats,” I said.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m not fond of cats,” I replied. It came out more defensive than I meant.
“Jiji doesn’t know that,” she said. “Just point at her like Michelangelo. That’s like a friendly call,” she suggested.
I thought she was joking.
But I was curious. I stretched out my arm, index finger pointed.
Jiji stopped eating. She looked at my finger. Then at my face. She gave a slow, deliberate “meow” and blinked lazily. Then she stretched herself, flopped onto one side, and rolled onto her back. Four paws in the air, and white tummy exposed to the Delhi sky.
“See? That’s a friendly signal. She accepted you as a friend.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I was amused, though.
“You pointed,” she said. “That’s enough for Jiji.”
I walked away that day feeling strangely elated, like I’d been let into a cat club I never applied to join.
The next morning, I had this curious desire to see the cat again. Right at the spot
Jiji was licking her paws, her breakfast finished, when I arrived.
Rayman was standing there too.
“Hi there!” I waved and reached out to hug her.
Looking at the cat, I smiled.
“Hi Jiji,” and did my Michelangelo gesture.
I heard that same slow “meow”.
Jiji looked at me, her tail moving in a question-mark style. With measured steps, it came and rubbed her cheek against my ankle. Then she walked between my legs, brushing my calves, circling left, circling right, her tail flowing along.
I froze.
Rayman was grinning. “Jiji saw me hugging you,” she said, as if explaining gravity. “So now you’re in. Your friend is my friend. That’s cat law.”
“Cat law?”
“Unwritten. But ironclad. Applies in all M Block territories.”
From that day, the routine cracked open.
Now, when I walk into the park, the first thing I do is to look for the golden sphinx under the neem tree. Rayman pours kibble. I stand for two minutes, no more. I call out, “Hey Kitty… Jiji!”
She always looks up. Sometimes she does the slow blink that Rayman says is a cat’s version of a smile. Sometimes she comes and does the figure-eight around my legs — left, right, left — before returning to her spot. Sometimes she just lifts her tail in acknowledgement, like a queen waving from a balcony.
I always end with, “Bye, Kitty,” and blow her a kiss. She never catches it, for a cat is a cat is a cat!
People who see us ask, “Is that your cat?”
“No,” I say. “I’m not a cat person.”
Rayman says I’m converting. I tell her I’m not. I still don’t like cats. I just like this one. I like Jiji.
“You have not chosen Jiji. The cat has chosen you!” says Rayman.
This Sunday, something unusual happened. Rayman had not arrived yet. Jiji saw me on the track. She came in measured steps, deliberate as a scholar, and started circling between my legs, with that insistent silky pressure of her body.
It hit me–she was asking, “Where is my master?”
“I don’t carry your food, Jiji,” I told her
She meowed once, and her tail lashed. I was trapped in her golden orbit.
Just then, Rayman walked in.
Jiji’s ears pricked. In one fluid motion, she shot towards her, and I exhaled, laughing. In happy banter, give a flying kiss to Jiji as I continued my walk.
That’s enough Michalangelo for me.
Kiren Babal
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