The birth of the Crimson Cat

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Oh, the Crimson Cat — all bright on the outside, a soft bundle of joy, a kitten, a roll of tenderness, the apple of everyone’s confused eyes. Fast-forward a few years to when she is a cat. The Crimson Cat. Fully formed. Slightly feral. Mildly unhinged.

Cats are supposed to be sober, composed, calm, lazy and dead slow. That’s what it takes to be a good cat. But nobody warned her that growing up also came with existential dread, chronic overthinking and the unique talent of smiling while internally combusting.

Who birthed the Cat?? Well… to the best of my knowledge, she is the baby of longing, ardent passion, nostalgic ecstasies, and a smile gifted by the tug-of-war between inexplicable emotions from a distant past and the inconvenient drama of the present, generously seasoned with a Malayalam song playing somewhere in the background for absolutely no reason.

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF THE CRIMSON CAT.

Reality, inconsistency, confusion, uncertainty, anxiety, fear, dejection and a tiny, stubborn spark of extreme optimism make home for the Crimson Cat. She thrives somewhere between soft chaos and suspicious self-awareness, sipping sarcasm with a side of emotional vulnerability.

Welcome again, to her universe. Please keep your expectations low and your sense of humour slightly dark.

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