Even better: there is an invitation for readers to add their own chain inside the story. With that invitation, Suniti has anticipated what is my own long-term goal for this project, which is to inspire people to write their own modern chain tales and, if they want, to share them at this site.
And for people who want to find out more about Suniti Namjoshi and her career as a writer and storyteller, I've created an author page here: Suniti Namjoshi. For more of her stories, I highly recommend The Fabulous Feminist: A Suniti Namjoshi Reader.
Thank you so much, Suniti!
And for previous stories-of-the-day at this site, just click here.
In a small town in western India there’s a shrine to a saintly cat. It’s said of this cat that she never displayed anger no matter what the provocation, at least not after she had taken her vow. Cats are not worshipped in India. They are in no way regarded as particularly sacred, and there have been no divine incarnations that anyone knows about. That’s what makes this story so extraordinary, but, as it happened quite recently, it may be easily verified.
One day the cat got so tired of being told to drink up her milk and eat up her biscuits, which she disliked, that she lashed out at her mistress. She hadn’t meant to scratch her, let alone draw blood. But she did draw blood and the scratch got infected. A doctor was summoned and the cat’s mistress was given antibiotics. The poor woman was allergic to them and died. The doctor was held responsible, a case was brought against him and very soon he lost all his patients. He committed suicide. The cat was appalled by what was happening.
The doctor’s wife, who was now destitute, took to begging with her six children trailing behind her. They had no practice and were no good at it; and so one by one they died. The townspeople felt that the least they could do was cremate them all on a makeshift pyre. As this was done hastily, the fire spread throughout the town, and caused havoc.
[Invitation to add to the chain of events here.]
The cat felt awful. Much that shouldn’t have happened had happened and would happen, and much that might have happened would never happen now – and all this because she had scratched her mistress.
She resolved never to be angry again. The rain might fall on her, the sun beat down on her, people might say what they liked to her and dogs bark at her, she would not protest. She wouldn’t even snarl, she would just sit there sphinx-like and look serene.
And that’s what she did. People would come up to her and she would look at them with her beautiful, emerald eyes. Gradually they began to bring flowers and saucers of milk and snacks she could eat if she felt like. The story spread that if she happened to blink while they were sitting at her feet, it meant that their wishes would be granted. A shrine was erected when at last she died.
People visit it regularly, only now they have no way of knowing if their wishes will be granted. They’re working on it. They say to each other, “A good deed or a bad deed can lead to a good thing or a bad thing. There’s just no telling.” And indeed, that has become something of a motto, if not a moral.
This doesn’t mean that the good townsfolk go about committing bad deeds with abandon. They don’t. They spend most of their time sitting at the Cat Shrine trying to understand what it all means. Then they make up stories.
THE CAT SHRINE
In a small town in western India there’s a shrine to a saintly cat. It’s said of this cat that she never displayed anger no matter what the provocation, at least not after she had taken her vow. Cats are not worshipped in India. They are in no way regarded as particularly sacred, and there have been no divine incarnations that anyone knows about. That’s what makes this story so extraordinary, but, as it happened quite recently, it may be easily verified.
One day the cat got so tired of being told to drink up her milk and eat up her biscuits, which she disliked, that she lashed out at her mistress. She hadn’t meant to scratch her, let alone draw blood. But she did draw blood and the scratch got infected. A doctor was summoned and the cat’s mistress was given antibiotics. The poor woman was allergic to them and died. The doctor was held responsible, a case was brought against him and very soon he lost all his patients. He committed suicide. The cat was appalled by what was happening.
The doctor’s wife, who was now destitute, took to begging with her six children trailing behind her. They had no practice and were no good at it; and so one by one they died. The townspeople felt that the least they could do was cremate them all on a makeshift pyre. As this was done hastily, the fire spread throughout the town, and caused havoc.
[Invitation to add to the chain of events here.]
The cat felt awful. Much that shouldn’t have happened had happened and would happen, and much that might have happened would never happen now – and all this because she had scratched her mistress.
She resolved never to be angry again. The rain might fall on her, the sun beat down on her, people might say what they liked to her and dogs bark at her, she would not protest. She wouldn’t even snarl, she would just sit there sphinx-like and look serene.
And that’s what she did. People would come up to her and she would look at them with her beautiful, emerald eyes. Gradually they began to bring flowers and saucers of milk and snacks she could eat if she felt like. The story spread that if she happened to blink while they were sitting at her feet, it meant that their wishes would be granted. A shrine was erected when at last she died.
People visit it regularly, only now they have no way of knowing if their wishes will be granted. They’re working on it. They say to each other, “A good deed or a bad deed can lead to a good thing or a bad thing. There’s just no telling.” And indeed, that has become something of a motto, if not a moral.
This doesn’t mean that the good townsfolk go about committing bad deeds with abandon. They don’t. They spend most of their time sitting at the Cat Shrine trying to understand what it all means. Then they make up stories.
(This painting, "Carpet Cat" by J. Sharkey Thomas, has a story of its own: "The rug was intended for the floor, but when I draped it above a shelf to analyze it, 'Ludvig', one of my regular models, immediately made himself at home on it, - and insisted on being painted thus." Painting for sale at Nature Artists.)
CHAIN: cat scratches - woman dies - doctor sued - doctor suicide - family begs - family dies - pyre fire
CHAIN: cat scratches - woman dies - doctor sued - doctor suicide - family begs - family dies - pyre fire
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