Who let the cats out

I live in a locality where all happening events, if any, can be easily classified into two categories- thefts and inaugurations (of a community hall, joggers' park etc.) Everyone keeps busy (yeah, in spite of the fact that most of them have retired) and there is not much interaction daily. But I am aware of some basic facts like A has married twice, B has no kids, C's son is in Australia, or probably at Uncle Sam's...

The other day, here I was, just back after a hard day's work ;), and I hear Uncle B shouting "Pandu, kuthe ahes tu gadhav??". This comes as a surprise to me, "Mom, I never knew Uncle B had pet donkeys .. And how can anyone name a donkey Pandu, u know donkeys should be christened ...uh..oh..I dunno, but not Pandu definitely"

Mom dear is watching some saas-bahu dope. Without flinching an eyelid, she says "Pandu is a cat. Probably lost and they are looking for it"

(Next time someone calls out Pandu, I will be looking out for a cat, a donkey and a guy in that order)

I join the hunt and sure enough there is Pandu dear on neighbour D's awning, (the cement structure over a window acting as a shelter) on the first floor of their bungalow, meowing away to glory.

"Pandu, khali ye, ikde ye, ikde ye", cajoles Uncle B. Pandu dear is scared, all it does is keep meowing.

Aunty B on scene now, "Pandu, come here, you are embarassing us". The number of spectators has swelled to 8 now, excluding Pandu dear's brethren who are scampering about, worried for one of their own.

Aunty B gets a towel and Uncle B plus the D family is on the terrace now. They let down the towel but Pandu dear aint doing the needful. All it does is, u got it, meow. To add to its woes, C's Alsatian is barking threateningly next door. Now if Pandu dear were to be Garfield and the dog Odie, we need not have worried.

Change of strategy. They let down a bucket, no progress, then a bucket with apna Parle G, nope, all Pandu dear does is ... ( I am not saying it now). Aunty B, even more embarassed now, informs the group that Pandu dear does not like biscuits.

The fire brigade is called. In the meantime, ground operations are under way. Uncle and Aunty B stand with a towel spread out right under the awning and Uncle D is prodding Pandu dear from the terrace, with the hope that he will fall into the towel. This scene I must tell you is very funny. We engage in small talk, I get to know C's son is in Malaysia, Whilst busy thus, I somehow manage to interrupt the conversation and tell them that Pandu dear has changed location and has jumped on another awning.

They shift places, the towel still spread out. More coaxing, more cajoling, and Pandu dear summons all courage and jumps on to Uncle B's head, its nails cutting through his cheeks and finally onto the ground, (with the towel nowhere in the jumping-process picture). While we celebrate the success of Operation-Pandu, the fire brigade sounds ominous sirens in the distance.

I live in a locality where all happening events, if any, can be easily classified into three categories- thefts and inaugurations (of a community hall, joggers' park etc) and cats stuck on awnings meowing away to glory.