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Chilli The Cat
by Amit Parmessur

There was a loud buzz in the beautiful village of La Gaulette – an astrologer had just settled there. He was so good at crystal ball gazing too. Certainly, our friend Chilli could trust him. “Sir,” he said, making himself comfortable in his chair, “tell me about that future of mine.”

The astrologer cleaned the ball with a piece of cloth. “Wait! Wait, my son,” he said solemnly. Chilli waited scratching his belly and wondering how this astrologer could be his father. “I’m impatient,” he said.

“Today you are going to meet someone,” resumed the astrologer, his hands moving all over the crystal ball.

Chilli’s whiskers stood up and his face glowed. “Tell me more.”

The astrologer bent over the crystal ball. It seemed he was more at grazing than gazing. “This somebody would want to know everything about you!” he revealed, expertly.

“I’m excited,” jumped Chilli. He placed more coins on the table. “Tell me where and who it is.”

“You lucky cat! I can see an intelligent beautiful girl. Tomorrow,” the astrologer said. “She would be interested in knowing you in depth.” Dropping a final coin, Chilli thanked the astrologer. Then suddenly the astrologer’s face became very serious.

“Is the money not enough?” Chilli asked.

The astrologer drew a long breath. “My son when you go home from here, beware. A van might take you away. I’m afraid you are going to meet that girl during a cat dissection class at the nearby university.”


Mr Luke the famous village doctor could not see his beloved cat that night. It was late and he was doubly sad as he had personally prepared Chilli’s favourite fish. Quickly he set out for his precious cat.

First he went to the butcher’s house. Fearing the man might have cut and sold his cat Mr Luke shared his problem anxiously. “Maybe he’s gone to look for a bride,” the butcher snapped. “Your cat’s just so lonely. You are not a suitable match for him despite all your affection.” The doctor was not impressed; he moved to the next house after having emptied the butcher’s bin.

“Have you seen my cat?” asked the doctor.

“You mean your white cat?” inquired the sleepy milkman. “Doctor, maybe there’s no more mice at your place. He has gone elsewhere. He’ll come back.” Wondering in what misery his cat might be, Mr Luke moved to the next house.

I came out.

The night was so cold too. “Have you seen my cat?” Mr Luke asked. As the author of the story I decided to end his pain.

I told him Chilli was sleeping at home, dead with chagrin and all black with mud having narrowly escaped a van earlier in the evening. I told him that his cat was sleeping on the table where he would keep his curios. Certainly his wife hadn’t bought a black wooden cat for his collection as he had earlier thought while looking for Chilli in the house.

Mr Luke sighed.