Sticker and I - A friendship that can never be"My marriage crumbled. My health crumbled. I crumbled," writes Sana Ally. A cat she had rejected shows her how to accept it all.
Sticker is a chatty cat. Sometimes her prolonged monologue registers dissent; sometimes, a bored lilt fading away into nothingness. Sticker does not like Tiny. Sticker leaves no opportunity to let Tiny know. Even as the accepted Alpha, she never stops establishing authority. She hates that my sister rescued another helpless, immune-compromised cat and thrust an unwanted younger sibling upon her, robbing her of my sister’s undivided attention. Tiny loves to be in Sticker’s business. An annoying younger sister. I identify, having invented and delivered the role flawlessly myself. Sticker was found, running a high fever, right eye bulging, ripe with a feline herpes infection, abandoned, possibly by her own mother, near my sister’s car. Appi had taken the difficult decision to leave Bombay - a city that had been home for 7 years. The past year she had barely been in the city, juggling between her recovery from dysthymia and the anxieties of being a freelancer. This was 29 February 2020. Street life is brutally practical. It is primal. It is about survival. Runts of the pack are abandoned here. Appi’s big, sensitive heart broke. She rushed the kitten to a vet. Then she brought her home. When she called me to tell me, I got angry. I was tired of being the voice of reason for my older sibling. I was tired of her impractical, head-in-the-cloud ways. I was scared. Of having to clean up after. Who rescues a cat, abandoned by her own mother, when you don’t have your own bearings? Sticker had to find a new home quickly and it certainly wasn’t going to be mine. Social media networks and WhatsApp groups were activated. Sticker found a home in no time but her new Mum had to leave town. Appi, who was now staying with me, having given up her Bombay home, kept going across town to cat-sit Sticker. In hindsight, my irritation had little to do with Appi and a lot to do with my own unbridled, unchecked anxiety. Unprocessed childhood trauma was re-surfacing, with the sudden onslaught of many personal curveballs. My capacity to care had maxed out. What was I angry about We had begun to fight more than usual. We were out of sync for the first time in 8 years and I was constantly on edge. The pall of gloom had swallowed me whole. Appi faced the brunt of it. I had frequent meltdowns. Rude outbursts were common. 6 years older, Appi had been like a second mother to me. Over the years, while we remained close, our relationship had become volatile. The constant tussle of finding my voice, while running back to her, her own inner turbulence and our egos had put our relationship under duress. Deep down, we both knew it needed repair. Meanwhile, outside a big storm was brewing. Empty streets, companies rolling out work from home mandates, ransacked store shelves. We tried to keep calm, scoffing at the stupidity of thali banging, sharing memes, and working through nights. Our laughter nervous. 24 March: Lockdown announced. My heart stops. Holding back tears, getting off the phone with my husband, now stuck in Hyderabad indefinitely, I hugged Appi. Appi held space for me, as she always does. Next order of business - we had to get Sticker home since her Mom was stuck too. My house was not pet friendly. In fact, my house, and I were a pet’s nightmare. What followed were 3 months. In lockdown. My sister and I… and err… Sticker. Day1: Sticker goes full Dora the Explorer on my house. She defies every boundary I create for her, much to my annoyance. Sticker’s wilfulness cannot be deflated by Cruella De Vil. Day 7: Appi, Sticker and I watch a Ted talk by Elizabeth Lesser on saying your truths and seeking them in others. Something shifts within 2 out of us 3. Sticker is above all this. Without explicit discussion, Appi and I attempt becoming deliberate and intentional.
Day 10: We replenish our groceries, thanks to Sticker’s vet appointment across town. Day 15: We are now pros of distraction. Online meetings, party games on Zoom, extended family calls, banana breads in the oven and Yoga with Adriene.
Day 20: I am deeply invested in my sourdough starter. Sticker plays referee to the daily squabbling matches between Appi and I about chores, deliberation and intention be damned! Day 30: The month of Ramzan has begun. We find our rhythm in prayer, meal-planning, spirituality and heart to hearts. We reflect, rejoice. We cry, console. Esther Perel tells us to stop postponing joy, so we dine in our finest crockery and take lots of pictures.
Sticker rescues us Appi counselled me. Sticker just meowed. Day 58: My sister weaned off the antidepressants she had been taking for a year. She had climbed a steep incline to conquer this mountain all by herself. Sticker and I bore witness. Day 83: My brother, a fighter pilot (they always want everyone to know that), planned a rescue mission to drive us (and Sticker) from Bombay to Delhi. Since he has too much main character energy, that epic trip and the entire episode will be a separate essay. 3 years later, the aftermath Inspired by Appi, I now practice radical acceptance and embark on this journey within, trying to align all my chakras. As for Sticker, the wench, I believe it was she who conspired with the universe to cut me to size.
Our crazy cat-lady commune is thriving. And my restless, broken heart has an anchor.
As I write this, the door to my room has been left open. Hoping that she will oblige me, as she sometimes does, to paw my face aggressively. Demanding to be let inside the covers, as she tucks herself into a perfect croissant, somewhere within the contortions of my foetal positioned self. She will nip at my toes, every now and then to convey that my breathing is inconveniencing her.
This essay was written by Sana Ally in response to the prompt, ‘An Impossible Friendship’ in the Memoir writing workshop facilitated by Natasha Badhwar and Raju Tai.
Ochre Sky Stories showcases the transformative power of storytelling, featuring the most evocative writing from the Memoir writing workshops conducted by Natasha Badhwar and Raju Tai.
Thank you for subscribing to Natasha’s Newsletter and Ochre Sky Stories. This post is public, do share it with friends and on social media. Send me an email!
|
