The cat named Rani, loved and Lost.

Aparna Krishnan

April 6 at 10:13 PM · 

In the midst of momentous happenings smaller lives live, love and die.

One week ago, a Monday, this tiny kitten showed up. Scrawny. Scared. Mewing.

Our dog Chunchun hates cats, being equally scared of them and aggressive towards them. So our daughter started contacting everyone we knew to see if someone would want it. She was told by all that in Corona times people are even abandoning their own pets to save their skin. And nobody would want her. Maybe she was abandoned herself.

So we started feeding it, uncertain of the wisdom, of allowing her to get used to the place.

We would place milk rice for her in a tiny tray and watch from afar.
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Daytime she would hide from Chunchun, as he spent the day sniffing all around suspiciously. Night she would venture out. But scuttle away fast if she saw us.

There were also two tomcats around she was in terror of. And she would hide in a rat hole from them through much of the night too. But she would not come to us either.

We were worrying, but could not do much.

Without realising it, we were losing our hearts to her. We named her Rani, knowing the risk in naming. Naming means owning up a relationship, a love. She was becoming less scrawny by the day. Positively beautiful. She was willing to let us come a little closer each day. Watching us with round questioning eyes, till she would suddenly turn and run away.

Five days passed. Friday night there was a stomach churning cry at night. All of us rushed out, all we could here was the snarling of cats. Calling out loud, torchlight, nothing helped.

Morning our search yielded nothing.

And that was the last we saw of her.

Rani must be in the cat heaven. But it will take us time to forget her, her eyes, her slowly growing acceptance of us.

The price of loving and losing is forgotten so easily, as each time we step into another heart open eyed. Kitten or person.