The pet cat was kicked out of the house because it was eating food in the kitchen. A cat does not waste any time it can see milk, curries and other food items. Meanwhile, despite some changes, the cat used to listen to the scoldings of the family. Along with the cat, the father will also hear the fight. When the son scolds the mother, “This mother is feeding us cat litter alone,” the daughter-in-law joins in. “That’s enough. Don’t worry any of you. No matter what..” reluctantly, my mother agreed.
It dawned there for the first time without the cat. “Baby…” Even though the cat grew up, the father did not change its name. Pet the cat and go in and out of each room. The whole house was sifted and collected. “Baby…” he shouted. The children laughed at that. The little children were afraid of their parents and did not go with their parents to look for the cat. They were always busy studying. It is a habit from childhood. There will be a cat with the father. It may come and go somewhere. It will be treated like a home. It will grow by giving it the food it likes. Sometimes the cat would curl up in the corner of the woodshed. The whole house will be filled with the cries of kittens. Achamma will take care of them by calling Aruma “Babies…”. Looking into the children’s inked eyes, the mother would say, “How beautiful nature is!” That love had no restrictions then. My father always said that life is about loving one’s children and one’s fellow beings equally.
Since the day the cat went missing, my father has changed. No appetite. Does not eat food. Routines are timed wrong. Forgot the name of the days. He will keep his eyes fixed on where he is looking. Even though she doesn’t go into the kitchen, her father will come running when she hears the sound of the pan. “Baby..” He would call out sadly. Will open the pot again. To know if the mother’s baby has come and gone. “The cat still hasn’t left. Didn’t you see the pot was open?” The children heard their father and mother talking meaningfully. “Poor mother,” they said to each other. “Is it morning, my children?” my mother kept asking, not knowing whether it was day or night.
Content Summary: Malayalam Short Story ‘Achamma’ written by Hari Karumadi