Dudurudh

Kadala is a curious child in the same ways that we all were. If she thinks the tassel hanging from lampshade is interesting, she will go investigate it even at the cost of knocking over the entire lamp and falling with it. If she wants a lick of the dal or oat milk she will fly across the kitchen counter to get it. If she wants to fight puttu for no reason, she will go jump on her and then precipitously scurry behind the door or under the couch to hide from retaliation.
But at the end of every busy day – and she has many – she will come hang out in bed with me. If I lift the comforter for her, she’ll investigate the space I’m offering underneath, gauge its temperature, coziness index and vibe and placate my feelings by curling up near me. With her metronomic purring as my white noise, I’ll lay there unmoving so as to not disturb her. In a bit she will slowly walk towards my ankle and set herself down in the neck of my feet. There, she will fold herself into a ball and dream the dreams which cats dream for a while and when she’s done sharing her warmth with me, she’ll get up and march past my horizontal frame, slip out of the comforter and saunter over to the little bed where her sister is asleep. There, for the rest of the night, they’ll cuddle and sleep like they have since their little hearts can remember.