And to investigate.
“Isn’t it strange?” she said.
“What?”
“That your wife disappeared. And then my cat disappeared almost at the same time.”
“They are two independent events,” Kabir said. “There’s no reason why they shouldn’t happen at the same time.”
“I wonder,” she said.
They turned right at a corner.
“I think we need to define a radius around your residence,” Kabir said. “From what I understand, cats can be very territorial.”
“Luna wasn’t like that,” Uma said.
“I had read that all cats are…”
“Why would you assume such a thing? Why would you think Luna is like other cats? Why would you assume that all cats are the same?”
She stopped in front of a banyan tree. She had been talking in a raised voice only a few seconds ago. But now, she had become as silent as the large tree trunk.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound lecture you. But you know…what you said…it made me think of something.”
“Tell me,” Kabir said.
“My father was an artist. But unlike what most people think about artists, he was a very outgoing person. He would seek out people at parties. He would love to hear them tell the story of their lives.”
She sat down on a stone and plucked at a blade of grass.
“But he would disengage from people who tended to stereotype…people who said things like all French people are arrogant. Or all tigers are aggressive. He didn’t even like to think that all of Delhi was rude and uncouth. He believed that when you generalized people and things, you missed out on the individual details. These individual details, he liked to say, lend richness both to life and art.”
“Everyone has their own unique qualities.”
“Exactly,” she said. “We spent one summer in Ooty. A flock of geese had migrated to the lake. My father decided to paint every one of these geese. He wanted to bring out each of their individual details. I watched him that summer. “
She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes.
“He was right,” she said eventually. “Each of the geese was as different as you and me. Three of the little baby geese in that flock were extroverted. They flapped their wings heavily in the water as they ran towards their mother. The other two were shy, all wrapped up in the canopy of their wings. The mother had to take extra special care to make sure that they were fed. My father painted the mother and each of their babies.”
“I’d love to see the paintings,” said Kabir.
“I’ll show them to you someday,” Uma said. “But that wasn’t all. After a month, another family of geese migrated to the lake. This time, a mother with five of her children. Over the next two weeks, the children in the two flocks bonded. And then one day, the children of the second flock – the one that came later – they joined the first family. They left their mother all alone.”
The expression on her face was now marked by suffering.
“I have never seen sadder eyes than those of the mother. They were so big, so black. I remember the word my father used to describe them. He said that her eyes were molten.”
“Did she ever get her children back?”
“She did eventually. But she had to join the other flock.”
“I wonder why her children left their mother,” Kabir said.
He had begun to listen to the story with nothing more than a polite interest. However, now, it seemed especially important to him that he know the answer.
“I wonder,” she said.
Kabir bent down on his knees. He looked under a bush. He placed his hands under its carefully trimmed base. There were two green plates. One of the plates was filled with food. The other had water.
“Cat food,” she said.
“Do you know who has been feeding the cats?”
“No,” she said. “But I am happy that there are people who are looking out for cats. It makes me hopeful for the city.”
“I think we should wait here for however long it takes. Maybe Luna will show up.”
They sat under the shade of the banyan tree. She reached into her purse and took out the photo album. She opened her purse. She pulled out two bottles of water, a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and a hairbrush. She pulled on the handle of the brush. A knife gleamed in the sunlight.
She smiled.
“Isn’t this impressive? You can comb your hair. And keep the men of Delhi at bay.”
“Impressive,” Kabir said.
They ate their sandwiches and drank their water. The canopy provided by the tree was large enough to maintain a cover of shade even as the sun made its way through the sky. Eventually, the sky turned orange before it turned black. They could hear the chirping of the crickets.
Kabir touched Uma on the shoulder. He pointed at a lady with short hair. She was crouched in front of the bush. Three cats and a kitten approached her hesitantly like iron filings moving towards a magnet. Yet another kitten ran to her in a straight line. It licked her hands. She tickled the kitten behind its ears. She filled the trays with food and water.
“Excuse me,’ Kabir said. He gave her the photograph.
“Ah,” the lady said. “Who can forget those bright eyes?”
Uma gasped. Kabir saw that she had tears in her eyes. Her affection for her cat was so real that Kabir felt the lack of empathy within his own soul. He now believed that finding this animal was the most important thing that he would ever do.
“She’s a shy one,” the lady said. “She’ll wait for the others to leave. And then she’ll come by. I would bet that she’ll be here in a couple of hours.’
They decided to wait for a couple of hours.
“This must be the most boring case that you’ve ever been on,” Uma said. “All this sitting around.”
“Most cases involve a lot of sitting around for a long period of time,’ Kabir said. “That’s why you’ll find many private investigators are comfortable being alone. Like Buddhist monks. Or alcoholics.”
There were six street lights on the pavement. Only one had come on. Hundreds of insects began to circle around it. It appeared that they would bump into each other. However, in a matter of mere moments, they settled easily into stable orbits. If only the drivers of New Delhi could learn from the give and take spirit of these insects. India’s capital would be a more even tempered city.
“About Luna…”Kabir said. “Why do you think she left? Was she unhappy?”
“Of course she was happy,” Uma said. “Why would you even think otherwise?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest....”
“There is no otherwise,” Uma said. “Luna might have left for a number of reasons that had nothing to do with her happiness. Maybe she was curious. Maybe she had an urge to find out more about what’s out there. When someone leaves you, it’s not always because of the kind of person you are. Sometimes, all that other person is doing is following her own inner urges.”
They had started by talking about her cat. But the conversation had shifted. Uma was talking about someone else. Kabir couldn’t help wonder if she was referring to his wife.
The leaves rustled. The bush shivered. A black cat with brilliant gray eyes stared at them. She did not blink.
“Luna,” Uma said.
“Call out her name,” Kabir said. “But whatever you do, don’t approach her. Let her come to you.”
Uma called out the cat’s name softly. She opened up a can of Friskies. The cat became more alert and attentive. She walked towards them slowly. Eventually she lay down on its belly and raised its legs.
“She wants to be tickled,” Uma said. “But just a little. That’s why she’s showing you her claws.”
“Just like my wife,” Kabir said. “She kept showing me her claws. But all I wanted to do was tickle her.”
Uma stopped looking at the cat. She looked at Kabir with all of her attention.
“You’re smiling!” she said.
“I smile all the time” Kabir said.
“No, this is different. Your eyes are crinkled up at their corners. You actually have a twinkle in your eye.”
“No one’s ever told me that before,” Kabir said.
“Well, maybe you’ve never smiled before.”
They walked back to the bungalow. Uma sang to the cat. She hummed a folk song about a fisherman who had crossed the high waves and come home. The cat smiled. Kabir felt content.
A man stood next to the gate of the bungalow. He wore a red striped T-shirt. He fingered a gold chain.
“Oh look at our little tenant,” he said. “She’s got a new client to satisfy today.” He made an O shape with his mouth. He made a sucking sound.
Kabir walked up to then man. He twisted his arm. The man yelped. Kabir hit the man on the back of his head. The man became silent. He came down to the ground slowly and silently, like a feather.
“I am sorry,” he told Uma.
Kabir kicked at the man’s still body till it wasn’t in the way.
“I can’t stand rude people,” he said.
“It’s ok,” she said. She smiled.
“It really is,” she said.
She switched on the light in her room. She inspected her cat carefully. She made soothing sounds. She fussed over a scratch. Eventually, she released the cat. It ran up to the corner of the room. It leaped on to the table. Kabir leaned forward. He looked at the cat carefully.
“She’s got a scar running down her cheek,” Kabir said. “I didn’t see that in any of the photos…”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Are you sure we’ve got the right cat?”
Uma picked up the cat in her arms. The cat rubbed its