The Crimson Cat

  He was everything she could ask for. The true yin to her yang. He was not the fire that would burn her passion or her soul. He was not the wild horse that she would tame. He was not the hunter that would hunt her down. He was this mildly scented stream in the woods that flowed peacefully through seasoned, leveled grounds. Slow, joyous, calm, and familiar, with the power to heal just by being around with countless caresses and deep, deliberate, wet kisses. He was everything she could ask for.. She felt respected and cared for. He lived in a universe diametrically opposite to hers and that helped. There were no wildfires or passionate episodes and resulting bloodshed. But there was so much unexplored, so much to learn, so much to ease into and let grow on each other, like those vines on the walls of the house outside her window. But…… But she felt trapped in a bubble. She felt alienated from him, them and all the beauty. She felt lonely. She felt sad. May be, it was the pills...

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, stu...