Billu

It was a bright, sunny morning when I brought him home.

We lived in a sprawling bungalow then. My childhood memories are sweet. We were accustomed to waking up to the call of the koel before the break of dawn. Innumerable birds visited the gardens throughout the day. Woodpeckers, sparrows, doves, crows, koels and many colorful birds whose names are still mysteries to me, were a common sight. The crows were the naughty ones, as usual. One fine Sunday morning, I decided to have my breakfast on the verandah. Poached egg, potato fries and hot, buttered toasts used to be the 'Sunday breakfast special'. I loved it! As I was devouring the food on my plate, a couple of crows came and sat close by, cawing and calling their fellow mates to share the potential breakfast for the day which lay on my plate. Patience is a virtue hard to possess and harder to adhere to. I, but obvious, was a very impatient and possessive child. Yes, possessive about my Sunday breakfast too. I kept my plate carefully on the chair and ran after the crows, determined to chase them away. The crows flew away. Triumphant, I turned to finish my breakfast. My indignation knew no bounds when I saw the crows silently nibbling at my poached egg!! I screamed. They flew away with bits and pieces. I had to wait for half an hour before ma prepared a second breakfast for me.

There wasn't any dearth of insects, the nematodes or snakes either. More such creatures kept visiting and sometimes a few territorial and ferocious of them decidedly attacked us the moment we neared their tiny abodes . I remember howling loudly and running indoors with a vicious wasp bite on my hand. Ma loved jamuns. We had a huge jamun tree leaning over the terrace along with one of the six big mango trees which our gardens boasted off. Come summer and Ma would get busy employing the old gardener to pluck mangoes from the tall trees. I loved those days. The maid's daughter and I, the best of friends, took immense pleasure in holding old, faded bed-sheets under the trees and catching the mangoes before they could hit the ground. I preferred sucking the juicy, ripe mangoes and messing up my clothes, while Manju loved the khatta, unripe ones. The jamun tree was home to many storks who built nests all over the tree and conveniently aimed their droppings at whoever stood under it, even for a split of a second.

Munni masi lived with her family in the servants' quarters. The food she cooked on the chulha was simply delectable.

Our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Sivamani were a middle aged couple who had shifted there just a few months ago. They were completely oblivious to the feline 'femme fatale', Kitty, who with her deceptive sweetness managed to, almost always, convince people to feed her and take care of her kittens.

Sivamani aunty was delighted. Kitty had given birth to three tiny, cute kittens. A tawny tabby, a grey tabby and a jet black one. A few weeks later we got to know the sexes. The first two, Goldie and Tickles were males and the third, Minnie was a female. Minnie was the most beautiful of the lot. Sweet, cuddly, she won my heart. Her velvety, black fur was the softest thing... and her yellow big eyes, the most amazing ones I’d ever come across. The boys as usual were rowdy and naughty. Not surprising. Boys!

I stopped going to play with my huge colony group. I spent my entire evening with those tiny, adorable babies. When we are kids, we tend to have huge gangs and many friends. So did I. Ashie was one of them. I did not like her particularly but then, she was the only one who shared the same love for animals with me, or so I thought.

Ashie and I visited Sivamani aunty's home religiously. And then one day, she told me that she wanted to adopt Tickles. He had been her favorite since the beginning. A lot of pleading, convincing, promises to do well in the next exam, and Tickles got a new home. Ashie lived in an apartment. Cats, contrary to dogs have different needs. They are more independent than the other quadruped best buddy of mankind. Leashes, baths, sweet smelling soaps and small, locked spaces are extremely despicable to them. The lithe, grace with which these adorable creatures walk, hunt is amazing. Watching them gambol, run after birds, insects, snakes is quite similar watching tigers.

Ashie wasn't very kind to Tickles. She mistook him for a soft toy. She wouldn't give him proper space to breathe. Summer vacations had arrived and Ashie and her family were going for a holiday to Kalingpong. Tickles had lived with her only for a week. She requested Sivamani aunty to keep him with her for a couple of weeks. Aunty accepted reluctantly. But Kitty and Tickle's siblings did not. Animals recognise their cubs by their scent. Mothers make it a point to give their cubs a lick everytime any foreign element touches them. Tickles had lost his smell. A week with humans cuddling him day and night had given him an entirely different smell, that of humans. Kitty looked at him with distrustful eyes. He recognised his mother and went running to her. Just four months old, he had missed her terribly. Kitty refused to let him get any closer. She snarled at him. The tiny kitten was scared beyond his wits. His siblings attacked him for he had entered their territory. It was impossible for aunty to keep Tickles with the other kittens. I pleaded with Ma. I wanted to keep him with me for the fortnight. Ma agreed. She loves cats. It was difficult to convince Baba though. Once he agreed we brought Tickles home. A plate of milk and biscuits later, he became a part of our family, completely inseparable. His antics kept even Munni masi on her toes throughout the day. Tickles had a strange love for dark places where he could hide and sleep. A reason enough for us to get panic attacks. He would go missing suddenly and the entire house, Ma, Baba, me, Munni masi, Manju, Jugal bhaiya, would run frantically searching for the mischievous little thing. We found him sleeping in cupboards, under the stairs, in the dingiest of imaginable places. We just couldn't find him once. Exhausted, when I sat on the bed, I suddenly noticed my school bag move slightly. It continued moving up and down, ever so slightly, rhythmically. I rushed and peeped in. tickles was sleeping inside it.

Baba said, 'Why Tickles? Till the time he's here, he's Billu.' And we called him Billu since then.

I loved playing with Billu. He would hide behind the curtains, I would pretend as if I couldn't see him at all(yes I did notice the 'quite visible' twitching tail!) and then Billu would suddenly spring from the window and chase me through the house. I would run. He would hold on to my foot with his paws and not let go. He loved maggi! He took short, afternoon naps with me, cuddling up in my arms. Baba scared him though. He was in awe of him. He would know by the click of the gate latch that he was home. He jumped out of bed and acted the good boy then. He was my baby brother. The fun and frolic he brought in our lives was rejuvenating. I looked forward to coming back home. I loved him so!

A fortnight later Ashie returned, and so did Billu. I missed him terribly. I had lent my bag to Ashie to carry Billu home. A week had gone by and she hadn't returned it yet. Ma sent me to her place to pick it up. The moment I entered her house Billu mewed loudly and came running to me. I picked him up and kissed him on his tiny, wet nose. He purred away happily. Billu had torn their cushion covers, messed up the entire room. It turned out, also, that Ashie's mother had asthma. . Aunty requested me to take him back. She told me that they couldn't manage keeping him. Ashie looked crestfallen. I asked her to keep visiting. My joy knew no bounds! Billu was mine! I took him back. All of us were so happy to have him back. He went crazy with excitement, sniffing away and loudly demanding milk and fish. Billu couldn't, or rather wouldn't eat raw fish. When the fish monger came and threw some raw fish pieces at him, he received a cold, condescending, unresponsive stare. Billu only had cooked fish, warm milk and maggi.

There was a ladder on the terrace which led to the water tank. I had taught Billu to climb it. But he could never get down. What big fuss he made!! He wouldn't allow any of us to help him down, neither could he muster the courage to get down himself. We had to hide behind the door and call him. A loud thud and he would come mewing in as if he'd conquered the whole world!

When Billu turned a year old in July, we decided to get him vaccinated. Baba and I took him to the vet. Billu had grown quite big and strong by then. We shouldn't have taken him out from the bag. We did so before the doctor could warn us. The new place, the strong smell of dogs scared Billu. He tried to run away. I held on to him. When Baba tried to do so, he bit him. Billu ran away. Baba had to get injections. Ma and I started searching for him frantically. We took his photograph and showed to to all the people who lived near the hospital, but to no avail. I wept. Billu was lost, maybe forever.

Two weeks later, Ma and I were watching a film. It was seven in the evening and almost dark. Suddenly we heard a loud thud, followed by a mew. We ran to the kitchen. Billu was back! He had found his way home! His tummy had gone in, he looked thin and gaunt. We fed him properly. The next day he got a much hated, but much needed bath. He slept with me that night.

Time flew. Those were such happy days with Billu to look after and love. Three years had gone by since Billu was born. A new male had come. He kept attacking Billu. Billu fought back valiantly and returned home, almost everyday with new wounds. We named the other guy Villain. He made life hell for Billu. Billu was a full fledged male by then. He fought back ferociously and stopped returning every night. We grew sick with worry but there was nothing we could do. He was a free guy, and we couldn't snatch his freedom away from him.

One day when I returned from school, Baba told me that Billu was no more. We buried him in our backyard. I cried myself to sleep that night. Its so hard to get over the death of a loved one... and Billu was my brother. I stopped eating the fish he liked, I did not eat maggi for days. I still miss him even though its been three years since his death. Every time I see a cat, it is him that I am reminded of. His soft paws, his mood swings, his long whiskers, his amber eyes. I remember them all, so clear! I do have a small scar. He had scratched me so hard! He had been so angry with me for tickling him so bad. I wish the scar never goes away. It is the only physical link between my sweet little Billu and me. Billu can never be replaced. The love I felt for him shall never lessen. A brother, my darling, he has and shall always have a special corner in my heart,all warm and cozy where he still sleeps, purring away, happily. And I shall always kiss his sweet, wet nose in my dreams.


February,2009