Purr-A-Dise

I was collecting flowers in the community garden that morning. Just then, I saw two white paws under the Bougainvillea bush, trying to catch my hands playfully. I recalled a similar flutter in my tummy! Oh, I know this feeling!

She walked out lazily, stretching with every step, and greeted me with a “ Meow”. That’s my favourite language, I admitted with a smile. She gave me a nudge with her small furry head and her purrs so loud, coordinated with my fast paced heartbeats. She reminds me of Rumi! The same thoughtful eyes, impish whiskers, soft muddy paws. Not too young, not too big. Just the right active size for a kitten. Oh, how this familiar feeling tugs at my heart strings!

Unlike Rumi, she has a few brown spots on her white and black fur. The kids in the community have named her “ Cookie” - the brown spots are for chocolate chips in the cookie! She follows me like she already knows me and my scent. This morning, she followed me home, sniffed the doormat and stretched to sleep on it, just like Rumi did. I don't have any cat food these days. I distributed it all two years ago at the street-cat Iftar party, I planned for them.

I don't have anything but affection to offer now...my heart overflows with love, when I pet her and stroke her chin. This is the unique kind of purest love that only pets seem to bring out from us! She gives me an instant purring feedback to reciprocate the feelings. She walks through my legs, nudging me with her head again, just like Rumi...

The doors to my heart were shut tight after Rumi wandered away. I convinced myself with the karmic contract reasoning, of a cat’s purpose in our life. But why does this kitten knock ever so softly on those doors...trying to open them and peep into my heart...

The two predators, Simba and Ginger from the neighbourhood are quite old now. Ginger is too lazy to move. Simba challenges himself with chasing this new kitty on the block. She swiftly climbs the trees and he cannot reach her. He is too chubby to climb trees. In short, she knows how to take care of herself. Everyone feeds her lovingly. She can easily survive in the community garden, hiding under the bushes and sleeping on the moist earth.

One afternoon, she followed my boys home after school, giving them that familiar loving feeling. She stretched out on the doormat and we could see the silhouette of her paws under the door. Rumi used to play with the doormat and pull it from outside. We used to notice the pulled mat and open the door for her. She used to have that mischievous glint in her eyes!

It feels like a gift, finding this lovable creature in the garden, by serendipity. Whenever I see her playing on the lawn, I am tempted to pick her up and take her home. But she belongs to the community garden. She is everyone’s pet. Let me not take that fragile route again. This time, I am keeping my mind detached, without any emotional investment or longing. I love her enough to let her be free. I don’t seek ownership.

This is how my spiritual journey looks like, somewhere midway, I’d like to believe. Those few minutes of soft purrs every morning are enough for me to get a glimpse of Paradise ... 

or should I say, Purr-A-Dise!

:: New Kitty on the block! ::

The Survivor

When we moved to this house, I brought along with me all my potted plants. The largest one amongst them was my frangipani. When I saw the community garden, I thought it was the perfect place to replant the frangipani and let it bloom freely in the deep soil, beyond the confines of the pot. With the help of the kind gardener, I planted it next to the entrance to our block. This was back in 2022 when our dear shrub was just about a metre tall.

Last winter, with all the refurbishment and waterproofing works in the community garden, my favourite frangipani was in danger. I decided to take a chance by moving it into a large planter until they finished the repair work. Many of the larger trees with thick roots did not survive this process. They were mercilessly removed from their place.

I continued to water the frangipani through these difficult months of its confinement, with a hope that it would survive.

Last spring, when finally all the work was completed and the garden was transformed with new soil, new grasses and some new plants, my brave survivor found a fresh new opportunity to grow. With the help of the kind gardener again, I transferred my frangipani on the other side of our entrance, safely tucked away next to the balcony, from where I hoped to touch its leaves and flowers.

It's been three to four months now and our dear survivor has branched out till the balcony. I see the thick bunches of white plumeria flowers and I remember my *Frangipani Fest with the other favourite frangipani trees from a year ago! Sadly, none of them are in the garden now. They did not survive…

I see Ginger and Simba, the oldest two cats from the neighbourhood very happy to have their favourite hiding places back again. However, there is no sign of our dear cat Rumi. She never returned…

But our lone survivor, Miss Frangipani has now reached the first floor, spreading her roots and branches freely. I feel so happy, she is officially a tree, who survived and is thriving, showering us with many fragrant white blossoms.

Sometimes, my life in this country feels like the frangipani in the confines of a large pot ... All these years, there was room in the pot. But now, the roots have no space to spread any more. I kept replanting myself into different kinds of pots of different shapes and colours. But there is no free space to explore. Slowly the branches, like shoulders, start to droop down; leaves, like hair, begin to fade out and solitary flowers, like aspirations, display a dejected bloom.

I am waiting to find a permanent deep moist earthy setting to call this soil my own, to confidently take root and openly spread out my branches carrying happy blossoms and birds on bright sunny hopeful days.

Aren't we all survivors of some kind?

* Frangipani Fest - https://quiethappiness-tasha.blogspot.com/2023/11/frangipani-fest.html