[Moderator's note: Ms. Shabnam Nadiya is one of the  valued member and  contributor of  Mukto-mona. Her passionate writing which is a consequence of  her personal bitter experience always touch a nerve in our hearts greatly. Her article having her personal agony and affliction reflects  awareness towards the people and society.  The new members of this forum who are not yet familiar of her writing may take a look of the following article :

• Why I remain an Atheist (Highly Recommended !) 

And also:

• Bangladesh: The Enemy Within [Part 1 and Part 2 ]

The following article which is exceptionally different from her previous serious writings,  is basically just a non-sense written  for the children. But I sincerely believe that our "Old Children" of Mukto-mona would definitely get the real touch of humor from it. Dear Readers, enjoy the story - "The Cat who was reading a book !"]

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The Cat Who was Reading a Book

Shabnam Nadiya

diya_di@...

 

One day a man, just an ordinary middle aged man, was walking along the street. He was out for a walk after lunch and was just walking around admiring the view, when he suddenly came upon a cat by the side of the road. It was a cat, just an ordinary small black and white cat with a white patch on its forehead. The man looked at the cat and walked on. Then he stopped and did a double take. (That means he suddenly stopped, stared in front of him goggle eyed, because when he looked at the cat inside his mind, there was something there that seemed not quite right, so he walked backwards to where he could see the cat again, as if by walking himself backwards to that place he was walking time backwards too.) Well, when he saw the cat again, he saw that there was something that was not quite right. The cat, the small ordinary black and white cat with the white patch on its forehead was lying by the side of the road as cats do looking as if it was the softest and the most comfortable place to be in the whole world - and she was reading a book.

The man stared at the cat wondering whether he was fast asleep at home in bed dreaming, or whether he had finally gone mad. Who in the world had ever seen a cat lying beside the road reading a book? And anyway, what on earth was the cat reading? What sort of book would a cat be interested in?

So the man walked very slowly, very softly up to the cat so that he could find out what book the cat was reading as well to try to talk to the cat. The cat lay curled up in front of the book and stared steadily at the open page.

'Hullo cat,' said the man. He spoke in a low voice so that if anyone came near him they would not be able to tell that he was actually trying to talk to the cat. The cat did not move. The man moved a bit closer and sat down on his haunches. The cat looked up at him.

'Look,' he said, ' if you can read, obviously you understand what I'm saying. Aren't you going to say something?' The cat stretched a bit (as cats usually do) and sat up. 'Why don't you say something? I know you can if you want to.' The cat yawned in a bored manner.

Seeing that the cat did not seem frightened or anything, the man reached his hand out to pick up the book. He was dying to know what the cat was reading, but he was also frightened that the cat might suddenly snap at him or scratch him. So he just pulled the slim looking, blue covered book a little closer to himself and turned it over, holding it close to the earth. The cat looked steadily at the man and said 'Miaow' in a low gravelly voice. The man looked at the cover of the book; it was Sukumar Ray's Ho-Jo-Bo-Ro-Lo. 'Of course!' said the man. 'What else would a cat read!'

The cat merely looked at him non-commitally. Perhaps, thought the man, this was THE CAT - the very cat from Ho-Jo-Bo-Ro-Lo itself.

'Oh please, I know that a Distinguished and Eminent Feline such as yourself does not like to speak to much, but please, please, won't you say something?'

The cat lifted a front paw and began licking it methodically. The man sighed. The cat miaowed again, this time a trifle impatiently. 'If you won't talk to me, then please won't you read aloud from your book? Just one line?' The cat started licking it's other paw. The man put the book back in front of the cat. ''One word?' he pleaded. The cat sighed deeply and let its paw down. It looked at the book, as if seeing it for the first time.

The man wondered what to do. Maybe he should poke it with a stick? The cat would get angry and perhaps say something. Cats were known to get angry fast. Or perhaps he should just give up and go away.

Suddenly the cat stood up and began stretching itself. Its body curved upwards with a shudder like the taut quivering of the stem of a cane bent and held to the earth against its will. A deep and satisfied purring arose out of the cat's throat, rippling in soft waves into the air around the waiting man.

The cat straightened itself. Then, with a look in its eyes like that of some ancient and profound guru, it said, ' Not one. I have said three words. Unfortunately, you have neither intelligence enough nor understanding enough to comprehend them. So now I leave.'

'Wait,' cried the man desperately. 'But what did you say? What words did you speak, oh Great and Understanding One?'
'I'm a cat. What did you expect me to say? I said miaow.'

So saying, the cat, the ordinary small black and white cat with a white patch on its forehead, picked the book up carefully in its sharp little teeth and walked away.

THE END

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