In A Dream of a Thousand Cats, NeilGaiman wrote that cats ruled the worlds before humans did, and could dreamthemselves back into power—if only a thousand cats could dream of the sameworld at the same time. Cats being cats, this is unlikely to happen soon, but itis commonly known that cats live in a parallel dimension. They see more than wedo, their goals are distinct from ours, and possibly more evolved.
Cities, too, have souls; they’re complex organisms of steel and concrete andplastic and blood. As they grow and mutate, their essence leaks into theirdenizens—humans are excellent indicators of their cities’ evolution, but toreally understand the soul of a city, look to that most sophisticated ofsentient urban life-forms—the not-so-humble domestic cat.
In Calcutta, I was owned by a cat named Ao. Ao was a gentle rice-eater,slothful, beautiful and utterly loveable. Summers she spent in the garden,casting coquettish looks at bumbling, earnest neighbourhood toms. Winters shewas found curled up on blankets and voltage stabilisers, purring Rabindrasangeetand only stirring a muscle when offered fish.
I was recently acquired by a kitten in Delhi. A tiny, helpless, grey-blackstriped bundle who won my heart completely by chewing on my finger within aminute of getting to know me. Since then, she’s driven me mad. Now two monthsold, Sherpa (climber of all, daughter of tiger, biter of foot) is cocky, brash,violent and greedy. She’s noisy, dirty and unfazed by cold water, yells ordogs. My entire flat, myself included, has been chewed to bits. My guests havebeen assaulted, my newspaper articles defecated on, and my flatmate’sfamily-creating potential possibly destroyed. And yet Sherpa remains the mostadorable kitten I’ve ever seen—she’s graceful, bright-eyed, wild andutterly lovely, and now I can’t imagine what life would be like without her.As I write this, she’s toying with the remote, changing channels and waitingfor the opportune moment to leap on my keyboard.
What would she type, if I let her? I’m Delhi, she would say. Deal with it.
It’s not much of a theory, as theories go, but there’s something to it. Theonly Bombay cat I know is pure Bollywood. He’s called Mithun and is theessence of all things disco—he’s glamorous, promiscuous and clearly hasunderworld connections. There’s really no end to discovering cities, or cats,both smug in their infinite complexity, both sublimely aware that you need themmore than they need you. If you’re thinking of changing cities, visit inadvance and spend a few days observing cats—they might tell you everything youneed to know.
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This article originally appeared in Delhi City Limits, January 15,2006
