Out of Print Workshop at MAP: 'Desert Cat and the Oasis' by Niveditha Prasad

Desert Cat and the Oasis

Niveditha Prasad

The dry, dry terrain unfolded for miles outside the window. There was much to take in from the view. There was the pond of a thousand lotuses that my husband had built, eastern-style domes made using techniques from the West and sculptures from the South. It all seemed so banal now. Beyond the pond, across the high walls, was the serpentine road. On cooler afternoons, there would be traffic. Carriages rolled by, carrying the dust of the world with them. That is why I began to sit by the window habitually: to see the carriages, count them one by one, to let a dust storm blow in through the windows and let it take me away with it, to let myself be dust that belongs to nothing, not even this fortress.

Sometimes at night, I could hear the faint sound of song from the road. I would lie awake, watching the palace lights dance on the walls, hoping, praying that some great shadow from far away would make pattern into my room. It never did. I would lie awake instead, catching some stray words from these road songs: a lover left behind, a lover turned traitor, anthems to strange gods, and long ballads about the countryside. Songs about the Some Other Place. 

I was bored of the view. I walked from one window to the next, peering out at the frangipani tree that was now within eyeshot. On happier days, the cat would disappear from the palace, only to be found napping on the tree she was named after. But Champa was not there today. She had gone missing five days ago. Longer than usual. The entire household had been ordered to search for Champa the Diamond-eyed. I had sent offerings to be made at all the temples in the city for her return. My pleadings to the gods had now turned into curses.

Just then, the young girl arrived bearing yet another package. Gifts from the husband: a ring of lapis lazuli, silk, and a gold girdle to go with it. I ran my hand over the fabric. It was soft, so soft that I could thread the ring with it. Champa would have liked to nap on it. But she wasn't there today and I had no use for the silk. I tossed it aside and gestured to the girl to take them away. She could have them. How did it matter, I had already given away so many of my gifts. As always, the girl bowed with gratitude. As she was leaving, she said, ‘Oh, the cat is back. The other women saw her sauntering into your room just now.’

Finally! I hurriedly made my way into the inner chamber. The hallway to the chamber was lined with large portraits of the forefathers and hard-won trophies. But the gallery also turned darker and darker with each step, the windows became progressively smaller, and the doors heavier. If it weren't for Champa's surprise arrival, I would not venture into the deeper parts of the apartment so early in the day.

How dare that wretched creature stay away for so long. Did I not love her, care for her, provide for her? Everything that a cat could possibly hope for in her life, this palace had it. And yet, she had begun to slip away regularly. Her clandestine comings and goings were entirely a mystery. One time, she returned with a gash across her pretty face. One of those urchin-cats near the temple must have challenged her to a combat and then cut her to size. Any sensible feline would have learnt about the dangers of the world beyond and surrendered absolutely to the pleasures of home. But not my Champa. A week later, she disappeared at night and only returned the next evening. 

As I entered the room, I saw the Diamond-eyed girl nestled against the foot of the bed. I picked her up gently even as I sharpened my voice to chide her saying, ‘Why have you chosen to return now, Your Highness?’ She purred, but not quite apologetically. Freeing herself from my hands, she strutted her way back to the bed, snuck in below, emerging from it moments later with something in her mouth. It was a coarse piece of cloth, yellow like her and frayed all around the edges. It was almost a rag but Champa had evidently taken a fancy to it. She placed it on my lap as if making an offering, curled into my body, and resumed lounging.

 

There was a thunderclap. The sound of rain filled the room. I closed my eyes and pressed the cloth tightly to my face – hoping, praying that it would take me into the world where my cat had been.