Monday, September 22, 2014

Pickle Jar

Douglas Adams once said, ‘Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so’. I do not disagree with him. It’s been ten years, but only on the calendars. In my head, it’s as if it was just yesterday...

...It was the summer of 2004; bright, sunny and soothing. The time of the year when the community parks are crowded. When the barbeque grill owners make more than the usual. When the girls wear floral dresses or barely anything. When the world is a happier place and beer is the most preferred drink. The kind of English weather that is often considered a myth. 

That day, I was walking my dog to the City Central park, the closest park from my house in the late afternoon.  Unlike humans, dogs do not care about the time of the year or maybe they do. I can’t tell.

Sensing the dog wanted to have a little playful time, I took out the plastic bone from my pocket and threw it in the air. The dog by his very nature, ran after it and brought it back to me. I repeated it; once, twice, thrice. Until I threw it far away and it dropped inside a shiny object.

The dog ran after it, but he didn't return soon. I noticed his disturbing body language from far.  His head was stuck in a jar. A pickle jar. Seeing him grapple I ran up to him and saw him scuffling with himself. As if he was being dragged to death by something unknown. I wouldn't deny the fact that it did tickle me a little. Yes I am a horrible person at times. When push come to shove, I tried pulling the jar, but he panted and I couldn't bear it. Five minutes of struggle and no results almost made me give up.

The next moment, I saw a fine lady picking the dog up and rushing towards the north.I followed her without questioning her intentions. Obviously a dog stealer doesn't like a dog with a pickle jar stuck to his head and an impatient owner right behind her. She rushed to the nearest vet and got him rescued just before he was about to die. I was ashamed, that it didn't occur to me first. 

It’s been ten years. The dog is no more, but I am married to the rescuer. 

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Black Cat - The Witch's Familiar and Her Rant

I see her from the corner of my cornea. I see her devour the fresh lamb meat,  like a gourmand unleashing her appetite after years of starvation.

I look at my bowl, I am being fed hash. That's what I am usually served. I look at the other inmates; the owl, the rabbit and the rottweiler; we all are being ill-treated. But to my surprise, they seem to enjoy it. Obviously they have issues. I on the other hand have a severe distaste for non-recognition and ill-treatment. Nevertheless, I must hog on fresh food in her absence and sneak protein bars from time to time to gain strength. 

The aspiration of escaping this dungeon is the only hope that drags me through most of my days. I sit quietly in the corner making plans and analysing the execution pitfalls. I see the inmates and the black hooded lady with fake nails seeking sadistic pleasures in my quietness. 

I also try showcasing my power almost on a daily basis. Yesterday in an attempt to strike fear in her, I dropped a decapitated lizard's body in her soup bowl. In my anticipation it clearly showed what I am dangerously capable of. But in hindsight, it was a mere attempt from my side that escalated as her dinner table trivia. And to top it all, her other witch friends, only made some condescending remarks on my capability to scare a grown ass human being. 

Today, she's having an assembly in a closed room with her comrade. I am locked out of it, despite the fact that I will invariably be the center of  attraction in her upcoming events second to none. I am treated as the bad omen by the society. But being treated the same way by the other animals, is a tad too much to live with. I am done with this bullshit. I am going to end it very soon.

As the time is approaching nearer, the night when she does her belly dancing around the human skulls, I shall put my plans in to action. I must gain back my gifted superpower to scare other human beings, who in turn would try to kill the witch first for owning me. Then they would definitely try to harm me too, but then their own species would guard me. I have PETA to back me the fuck up. Yes I do watch news on a daily basis. 

But if that plan fails, then the same night I shall put my plan B in to action. With all the fair intentions of vengeance, I would weave around her feet. But only this time I will do it on top of the stairs when she isn't looking. 

Sunday, September 7, 2014

A Tiny Tale

Tilted head, tattered clothes, gloomy eyes, amputated right leg and restless hands; I saw him counting coins, from the other side of the road.

"Poor soul", I thought.

As I crossed the road, with hands deep in my pocket, searching for more coins to add to his broken plastic cup; I saw he did not count coins.

Those were war medals.