I grew up in Darjeeling and a hot summer was naturally alien to my senses. When I was forced to migrate to warmer climates to pursue my higher education, it was a while before I got my first peaceful sleep. ‘Forced to’, because despite its natural and scenic beauty, the Hills offer very little career scope.
Getting used to the city was not easy; filled with its dazzle and spectacles that are at times meretriciously blinding and on other times unembellished revelations of life and truth, I struggled to keep pace. I settled in a two-room apartment and my only companion was a feline. I named him Garfield, an orange Bengal tabby I picked up from the road on my way home from college. Its coloured stripes and immense affection for food and sleep got him the name.
Though Garfield was free to go where he pleased while I wasn’t home, he seldom left the couch that needed a monthly mending till he was a year old. The only times his tail took a skyward lift was when it was time to eat. On other times, he would comfortably settle on my lap, purring.
That night was the hottest day I had ever experienced. It was the first time Garfield did not jump on my lap when I sat down. Instead, he spread over the coolest spot he found on the floor as the fan glutted sultry air. I was pondering over the day’s lecture on James Joyce’s stream of consciousness. Sleep in such weather was a placid disaster so I decided to go through the day’s notes instead—how the simple thinking of Joyce’s characters allowed a story to weave in itself without him having to be there and that’s when I heard God’s voice rumble as thunder from a distance.
The sole breathing space in my flat was my window to the south; I stared at it for a while like it were my lover. It hadn’t rained in months and the only breeze I had felt was like smoke from an engine exhaust; Hitherto, the glass was sealed as it served no other purpose save helping feed mosquitoes.
I opened the window and a moth like God’s angel brought in the breeze under its wings; but my joy was short lived.
The lights went off as the thunder rumbled even louder and a shrill ‘meaow’ permeated the air, followed by a crashing sound. I lit a candle to find my laptop with its screen smashed on the ground and my cat throwing up a half-eaten moth beside it. My window seemingly cursed me for my selfish ignorance of its useful beauty, my cat suffered for its greed and by now the rains began to enter and flood my room. The electricity was back, I closed my window and moaned off to sleep.
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