Hobbes’ Perspective

This story is selected as Editor’s Choice and won INR 500

She sat at her work desk holding a pen. The white A4 sheet paper on the top of her desk was blank. It had been so for the past half an hour. Her otherwise “super-active” brain was not co-operating with her today. She tried harder and harder to come up with some idea; some theme; some story.

“God Akshita! Are you going to write something or continue staring at the paper like it’s a cryptic German code from World War 2? You could atleast start with ‘Once Upon A Time’ ” a low, squeaky voice broke her trance. She looked around to search for the source of the sound. She was alone at home and the voice effectively alarmed her.

“Who is it?” she asked, softly. When no one answered, she repeated her question a little louder.

“It’s me, you dumb ! Tch-tch. You have such a whiny voice. Thank god you’re in the writing business and not in the speaking business. If you were on the radio, I would turn it off.” The voice spoke again.

“That is a mean thing to say. Where are you talking from? Why can’t I see you?” Akshita asked.

“Mean-ness is our second nature. Maybe even first. I wonder what anyone’s first nature is! Everyone always talks about second nature. Is their first nature being nice, evil, hungry, greedy or white? Anyway, to answer your question now, look up; at the ventilator.” The voice instructed.

Akshita looked up at the ventilator and saw a cat sitting on its ledge. It was orange and stripped. A thinner version of Garfield, she thought.

“Cat! Are you a cat?” asked Akshita.

“Yes. But you can give me a name, if you want. Not something like Kitty or Tom. I expect such names from annoying 10 year old kids who play with toys that seem to have higher IQs than them. You’re a writer; get creative.”

“Wait. Am I talking to a cat? A talking cat?”

“Would you have liked it better if I were a talking dog? Pfft! I don’t understand why humans like dogs so much! They drool all the time, wag their tails for everything, follows and are loyal to humans who give them 1/16^th of the food they themselves eat every day! Dogs are spineless; they have no self respect.”

“I like dogs. Definitely more than cats.”

“Ofcourse you do. You are human. Humans like anything they can exploit.”

“Thats a little….”

“Too honest? Nevermind. Right now you are in a rut. Do you have any ideas for your story?”

“No. I can’t think of anything. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today!”

“Do you need any help?”

“From you?”

“Hey! Do NOT underestimate a talking cat. Have you come up with a name for me, by the way?”

“Yes. Hobbes. Like in Thomas Hobbes, the political scientist who had a cynical perception of human nature, just like you.”

“Hobbes? Hmmm…. I like it. I like that Thomas Hobbes guy too then. A realist, he was!”

“So Hobbes, how do you think you can help me?”

Hobbes jumped down from the ledge of the ventilator and sat on her work table. He started, “Well, since I am a cat, I move around town a lot.”

“So you must have had quite a lot of adventures?”

“Yes. I have had many. Mostly involving humans. Such weird creature you people are! Once when I was taking a stroll in the park, a random guy picked me up, strapped a little basket containing a small box on my back and left me near a beautiful girl. He didn’t even tell me what to do, so I just moved round and round that place. Then the guy came and sat near the girl. Then he pretended he just saw me, whistled at me and gestured me to come towards them. I don’t know why he thought I would come to him like a dog, wagging my tail and drooling, if he called me like that! I felt offended, so I did not budge. That idiot called me a few more times; then he gave up and picked me up again. The beautiful girl patted my head and asked the guy what the little box contained. I could tell she already knew the answer but was just playing along. I don’t understand why humans enjoy such theatrics! Anyway, he then took out the box, opened it and knelt down in front of her. She squeaked so hard, I feared bats would come and attack us any moment. And then they jumped and screamed even more. He muttered a soft ‘Thank You’ to me. That ungrateful idiot didn’t even have the courtesy to offer me a glass of milk. Just a ‘thank you’? What am I? A dog? Even humans aren’t satisfied by a mere ‘thank you’!”

“You really hate dogs, don’t you?”

“Yes. Humans too, for that matter. They either give you no food or very less food. Also, we don’t just like fish or milk. We prefer variety too.”

“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. Hey! When you came in, you spoke about cryptic messages and World War 2. I am pretty sure you weren’t alive then, then how do you know about them? Do you read too?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t understand alphabets. There are too many of them. I watch movies and videos. That 17 year old kid, who stays just a few streets away from here, watches a lot of movies and documentaries. He is so busy mechanically munching on packets and packets of chips while his eyes are glued to the TV, that he never notices that I sit on his window sill for 3 hours every afternoon watching TV with him. I learn a lot that way. I also sometimes steal chips form from his packets when he goes to the washroom and that idiot never finds out.”

Akshita laughed. “You’re something!”

“I sometimes feel bad for him though. He doesn’t do well in his exams, apparently. Many evenings, I have heard his parents screaming at him and calling him “dumb”. He then comes out of his room and sits quietly near the garage. He is a very talented guitar player, you know? I sometimes listen to him play and it’s quite pleasant. That compliment coming from me for a human is enough evidence of his talent for you, I suppose.”

“His parents don’t know that?”

“They do. He was in his school band too. His parents removed him from the band because he has his 12^th board exams this year.”

“And they want him to do well? Wow! I wonder how many more teenagers have faced a similar fate.”

“Lots, I am sure. It’s so common among you humans. It’s like children are not children but some kind of science projects for their parents. I say Science because saying something related to Arts or Commerce would probably be offensive.”

Akshita smiled sadly.

“What about the ‘Once Upon A Time’ part?” asked Akshita, trying to change the subject, “How do you know that some stories, fairy tales rather, start with that line?”

“Oh that! Do you know Mr. S. Sharma?”

“The Mr. Sharma who owns that car showroom across the street?”

“Yes. Him. His daughter, Riya, is 6 years old. Mr. Sharma comes home from work every day during dinner time and then he reads a fairy tale to her every night at bed time. Their house is so big and empty that I pick a room at random and spend the night there. When he reads her the stories, I sometimes sneak into Riya’s room to listen. I like those stories. They are so stupid and unreal that I am amazed at the assortment of senseless, random junk that people call creativity, every time. No wonder children are so stupid!”

“For once, I thought you’d say something nice.”

“I am not human. I don’t say something nice on the face while thinking the exact opposite in my head.”

“Okay. Alright. Enough with the humans bashing insults! Have you not been seen by anyone at the house till now though?

“Riya knows I stay there at night. She has named me Tom. How imaginative! The nanny, the only other person in the house, knows too, but Riya has barred her from telling her dad. And her dad would never notice as he has buried himself more in his work since his wife’s death two years ago.”

“Oh!”

“Yes. So coming back to helping you out with a theme for your story.”

“Hunh?”

“Your story. You don’t intend to use that paper on your desk as toilet paper, do you?”

“No. But I think I don’t need your help anymore.”

“What? Noo! I thought I would be a part of some good book that might later be adapted into a super-hit movie and I would see my name run in the credits! You crushed my dreams, woman!”

“That might still happen. Trust me, you’ve helped me enough.” Akshita smiled at him; “What would you like to eat, Hobbes?”

“Give me the best you have in your fridge.”

“Chocolate cake. You’re not a dog, so you can eat chocolate ofcourse?”

“Damn right, I can!”

__END__