Hi, I'm Bishal Maji. Many people have asked me why I chose to permanently ink a cat on my left hand, among the plethora of other remarkable tattoo designs available. Until now, I've never unveiled the true story behind this decision. Today, I feel compelled to share with you the profound narrative that lies behind this seemingly innocent feline image.
Let us journey back to the past, to a time when I was but a young child, around 6 or 7 years old. Though the details may be blurred by the passage of time, the impact of those early years has left an indelible mark on my soul. In this tale, the threads of fate weave a tapestry of joy and heartache, illuminating the depths of my connection with cats.
In those days, my mother, my mousi, and I resided in a humble village, in an ancient dwelling devoid of electricity. As the sun began its descent, casting a gentle, dim light across our rustic abode, a pivotal moment unfolded before me.
I can still recall the tender scene: my mother placed a plastic container in my hands. Inside, nestled snugly, were three tiny, fragile kittens. Their innocent eyes shimmered with curiosity and vulnerability. My mother explained that their mother was somewhere in our backyard, urging me to transport them there so she could find them. The time was around 4 or 5 pm, when the world donned the hues of twilight.
With trepidation and a burgeoning sense of responsibility, I cradled the precious lives entrusted to me. Guided by the soft glow that permeated our humble home, I made my way to the backyard. Delicately, I positioned a clay brick horizontally in the earth, fashioning a makeshift haven. One by one, I carefully lifted the kittens from the container and placed them atop the brick, their unblinking gaze fixed upon me.
Unbeknownst to my innocent young self, the wheels of destiny were set in motion. Oblivious to the weight of my actions, unaware of the consequences that loomed ahead, I reached for another clay brick. In my childlike enthusiasm, I playfully stacked it atop the others, sealing the fate of the three delicate souls below. The air became punctuated with their desperate cries, their tiny voices pleading for salvation. It was in that heart-wrenching moment, as their fragile existence slipped away, that the weight of my actions crashed upon me like an avalanche of remorse.
This tale, filled with pain and anguish, etched itself upon the canvas of my memories, forever intertwining my soul with that of felines. Through the cat tattoo etched on my hand, I carry the burden of guilt and the weight of lost lives. It serves as a poignant reminder of the consequences borne from our innocent ignorance, a testament to the fragility and beauty of life itself.
Now, let us fast forward to the present, where I find myself a 19-year-old student, completing my studies in Kolkata. While my home lies far from my hostel, the grip of a worldwide lockdown led me back to the place where this story began. It was during this interlude that another chapter unfolded.
As I wandered through the familiar confines of my childhood backyard, seeking solace in the simplicity of nature, a faint meow permeated the air. My gaze fixated upon a small, frail creature making its way towards me. This young kitten struggled to walk, its delicate frame mirroring the vulnerability I once witnessed in those three fateful souls. In that moment, an unspoken bond formed between us.
Moved by compassion, I offered the kitten a small morsel of milk-infused pera, extending a lifeline to this tiny being. Unbeknownst to me, a profound connection was forged. The kitten followed closely in my footsteps, undeterred by my feeble attempts to dissuade her. Against my will, I succumbed to her persistent companionship, deciding that until she grew into her own, I would shoulder the responsibility of her care.
Feeding her with a makeshift syringe, her survival became my sole focus. Despite the challenges we faced, our bond grew stronger with each passing day. I would lovingly bathe her, nurturing her growth and witnessing the miraculous transformation from a helpless creature to a cherished companion. The fondest memories of my life were intertwined with hers-the mornings when she nestled on my chest, rousing me from slumber, and the shared adventures as we ventured beyond the confines of my room. In her, I found solace, a source of pure joy.
However, as is often the case with happiness, it proved fleeting. My time at home came to an end, and I found myself compelled to return to my college life. Upon my departure, I discovered that my beloved feline companion was no longer within the confines of our home. I confronted my mother, a torrent of anger and frustration cascading forth. She confessed that the kitten had been entrusted to the care of another family. The shock and betrayal left me seething, questioning how my precious companion could be handed over without my consent.
Driven by a mix of anger and desperation, I sought out the new custodians of my feline friend. Armed with food and a flicker of hope, I arrived at their doorstep, my heart a tumultuous storm. It was then that I beheld a sight that tore at the very fabric of my being. The kitten, now grown, wore the markings of marriage-sindur adorning her forehead, a symbol of union. Bitterness welled within me, mingling with the aching realization that she was no longer the same companion I had cherished.
An unsettling truth began to take shape-my beloved feline had acclimated to her new surroundings, her affectionate nature waning in the face of unfamiliarity. Though I faithfully fed her, our connection was strained, a mere shadow of what it once had been. In my heart, I made a pact: should she choose to return to me, I would welcome her back with open arms. However, fate had a different plan, and she remained distant.
Reluctantly, I entrusted her care to the family who had taken her in, fervently hoping they would safeguard her happiness and well-being. My heart ached as I bid her farewell, her absence leaving an indelible void within me. Thus, my first tattoo, the cat forever etched on my hand, became a testament to the bittersweet memories we shared-a permanent reminder of the joy and pain that accompanied her presence in my life.
As I reflect upon this tale, my heart remains heavy with the weight of loss. The inevitability of our feline companion's passing resurfaced, plunging me into yet another abyss of sorrow. I mourn her absence, for once again, I have been touched by the anguish that accompanies the end of a precious life. And so, my tattoo serves as a testament to the love and pain intertwined within our connection, forever preserving her memory within the fabric of my being.
This is the story behind the cat tattoo etched upon my hand-a story that evokes raw emotions, inviting readers to share in the depth of my pain and the profound sentiment I hold for these remarkable creatures.
