> exactly 15 days ago, my maid from kolkata called me at 4 p.m to announce that Kalu had passed away, or rather that she was found dead on the roof top in the afternoon. Kalu, my sweet little innocent, wiered Kalu, the cat with a mole on the upper lip and with a hesitant bid for friendship. She came into our household after being left to die in torrential rain for two days. Rusha rescued her and begged us to keep her with us. She rescued Lalu the smart and pretty cat a day before. Both were of the same age, about two or three days old, wet to the bone, shivering and crying feebly. But they both were to live – with us, to make us happy, teach us many a splendid things with their royal, majestic cat philosophy. Kalu had black, fawn and white colour on her body, she was always a little plump as she loved
Author: Sarbari
> I went through what i had written earlier and then some pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fell into place. had a chat with A in the morning and some more pieces fell into place. rather than talking about me, let me write about the phenomena that i saw as a process. just like the picture, compassion is possibly held in most of our mind as something that always flows downwards. for example, i never really felt compassionate towards my father or any adults for that matter in my young days as i believed (and realised that i still do), that as an adult, you must always be responsible for your acts of omission and commission and therefore if you make a mistake or be “weak”, you must pay a price for it. however, when it comes to compassion flowing downwards, it is often showered on younger people, juniors in status, people in lower social strata compared to us, to
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