Dear Germie,

I'm coming here after reading your blog. Yes, it's still a place I visit.

Since we always promise to make calls and don't, it has become a good way for me to get updates on your life. I like it that you're still on your blog instead of Instagram and other spaces. I want to take inspiration.

So, updates on my end:

1. I'm still recovering from ligament injury on my left foot. It's Day 12 today and I'm so restless. I miss walking. I've spent my time reading, working, lolling in bed. 

I'm finally able to sit at my desk today and I'm suddenly a happier person. Do you feel that way, too? Completely lit, the moment you sit on your desk, before your computer, the possibilities suddenly open before you and you feel like it's not so bad to be alive, after all?

2. We found Babubagh. It was Nhooja who spotted him, sitting on the 12 feet wall where he had first climbed the day he fled from the vet's, three days ago. Bandana and I rode on her scooter as soon as Nhooja called. I rode behind her, despite my leg injury. As we rode, she said the road from home to Chapali main has never felt so long to her. 

When we got there, Babu was on the wall, going Ma ma... and Nhooja was standing below, talking to him from the road. 

Nhooja, Bandana and Baa had been going back several times every day to search for Babu and had spoken to residents in the hood and requested that they call us if he appeared in sight. But the night he was found, Nhooja said he had a strange intuition that Babu would be there  at the wall and while returning home from an event, he went to the wall directly, instead of riding home.

The ginger cat, who we had asked during our search days to keep an eye on Babu was present, as though she had understood exactly what was asked of her. And I think she did. For, the whole time, she stayed with us following us around, cajoling Babu to climb down the wall. 

Getting him to climb down became impossible and he was probably famished from three days of being marooned on a high wall in torrential, incessant rain. He would not climb down. So, Bandana, my new superhero, used an unfinished column against the high wall to climb up to to rescue Babu. How she climbed it, is still beyond me. She's an almost 5ft tall woman. But when she climbed, she suddenly became tall, in spirit. Nhooja gave her foot backing and pushed her up and there she was standing precariously on a wall three times her height, coaxing Babu to come to her.

He refused at first, then came when she put some pellets before him. He was starving. She eventually grabbed him but he wailed and fought and scratched her all over her shoulders and it tore her jacket. But she would not give up. She picked him by the neck, pressed him to herself and eventually passed her down to me, during which time, she almost fell off the wall and I died for a second right there, worried she would be hurt.

I managed to grab Babu and now pressed him to myself. He protested first, scratched my arms. Then I talked to him, said it's okay and he relaxed and then we put him in his basket, while the ginger cat watched, concerned and now suddenly unsure if she might have led her fellow being from being stranded to being trapped. But we left her some treats and she talked to us in meows for a bit and seemed alright.

We rode home with Babu. It was 10:40ishPM when we got home. 

Babu ate, purred and purred and purred.

(My foot had started to hurt more than ever and was swollen quite a bit from dragging it around to help Babu.)

Babu, the moment he arrived home after the rescue.

I'm not a cat person, Germie. I connect with dogs and am in my element around them. I find cats clingy. Or at least Babu is. He can't stop touching me and calling out to me and I'm not used to that kind of attention. I guess I've always found show a affection a little bit cringe. My love language is taking care of practical needs of those I love. For instance, I would die if someone sent me flowers. But I'd be happy if someone helped clean up my phone. 

It's starting to rain as I type this note to you. It has rained the year, more than it did past monsoons. And while it's pretty, sitting at my desk and just watching the clouds morph into a thousand things, I am filled with a deep sadness over all the people who have died because of landslides and flooding brought on by rains. It's one of the reasons I no longer wanted to work as a reporter. I was writing about events I could not prevent. Does it make sense? I guess no. But it's true.

Talk to me soon. This is the year we shall meet. As witches in our own right, we have to manifest it.

Love,

Prateeish