Grief had sewn up that distant day in tight, hard, knotted stitches with not a single hole to allow hope or faith to step in.
It was filled up with The Game of Thrones, cleaning up the cat litters, feeding them, then napping with one of them under the eiderdown, her four paws sticking out like some kind of message from resilience?
Then in the evening when worry was beginning boil over, a walk came to mind.
The heart was sore with grief and anger at a relative who had robbed me blind, cheated me, shamed me and left me drowning in despair. I felt like I was being boiled and fried inside the harrowing, huge and harm filled pot of oil inside the kitchen of a very wily crocodile, making his lunch out of me!
I was reading Derren Brown’s book Happy which advises us not to let anger in. Not to let it win over us. To calm down. To perhaps later talk to the person who had harmed one. But none of this seemed possible. It had happened too often and was maddening.
To add to the dread, one of the two little kittens on the terrace, who had given me solace from her innocent blinks, had vanished. She was not to be found. So a walk would lighten up the thickening despair.
I set out in the near darkness, took a very long walk towards the main road, then returned to the bustling colony where I lived. Darkness had fallen. Then in a small lane I found two little kittens, one a bright orange and the other dark grey. There were waiting hopefully for left overs from a small meat shop.
The owner often threw meat scraps at them and they waited hungrily, as more cats arrived.
The kittens first hid behind some scooters and broken stone ledges and grime and looked suspiciously at this woman and her Sony camera, then decided she seemed harmless enough. Then they settled down to pose and kicked at the grief and the sorry human grime caking my heart the way kittens always do. A kind woman came up to tell me that in the morning I would find many kittens and cats in that lane to meet.
Then there was the Sony RX10IV itself that took my breath away with the awesome pics it gave me when I lazily hadn’t even learnt to use its features in dark light. The Sony however did not blame me and did this all by itself as if it too felt that the gnawing hopelessness of that evening was so cruel that I needed its help!
I then realized that however gruesome your day has been and how little has been left of your soul and much of your heart has been crushed, the Sony with its 600 into zoom will at least do the work for you, and without knowing it, put pieces of your heart back where they belong. And if it does all this with four or five awesome, brave and beautiful street cats, telling you to pick yourself up, one has absolutely no reason left to be sad, sour and glum. The ravenous cats, gorgeous and courageous, taught me more about happiness than that book Happy! And they did it in five minutes! Without too many words, too many quotations and too much research that began to bore me!
What remained then was the mysterious message from the journal made perhaps of yellow parchment belonging to magic itself – that there is that dusty, forgotten old red cabinet inside your heart, where you have to save and store some permanent pieces of joy, which are waiting to be pulled out when the darkness comes mercilessly for you!
So instead of whining about what had already gone and would never return, like the kittens waiting hopefully for their meat scraps, I decided where I would vanish the next day with this marvelous camera, to catch magic where it would surely be waiting eagerly for me! And there it was on the very next morning! More than capable of dealing with that crocodile cooking me up.