It’s 8 pm on the evening of July 30th and Murugeshpalya is business as usual albeit with a little bit of drizzle. Ganpati is looking out from the compound wall of 72 Ashoka Ave where I live, and notices there are a couple of big black blocks at the construction sight in his peripheral vision. Instinctively, he jumps onto the street, and climbs on top of one of them. At that moment, about ten kilometers south in central Bengaluru, an engineering system determines a need to shed the power load in this very part of Murugeshpalya, and all lights go out. Ganpati having been subjected to sudden loss of light before, carefully moves forward, the big black block has a hole in the center and Ganpati, devoid of his vision at this point, falls in. He does not like water, but he’s determined to stay afloat, beating his tiny paws against the weighty freshwater in the tank while incessantly meowing for Yash to come pull him out to safety. Unfortunately for him, about twenty feet way, the loud centralized power generator of Sri Sai Pinnacle apartment complex drowns out his calls. For the next twenty minutes, he struggles to keep his head above the water, then weakened by this effort, at around 8:30 pm, sinks down to the bottom, exhausted.

I’m sitting in my office wondering where Ganpati is. He’s been away before so I have no concerns of him being in danger. I’m just waiting for him to get back so we can have our daily ritual of hugs and cuddles with him settling beside me on the sofa while I dream of changing the world doing text edits on Red Bull’s cookie consent prompts. That day however, we wouldn’t do that. I instead would go around the neighborhood shouting “Billu!” shaking his favorite box of Whiskas dried fish. He understandably would not answer. I understandably would think he’s probably away from the neighborhood exploring and would meow at 4 am later that night to jump into my arms.

That did not happen. I woke up at 4 am and went downstairs again. “Billu!”, I yelled out into the cold darkness of the morning to absolute silence. Not thinking much of this, I went back up and settled myself in the cat-hairy sofa back to sleep. Gayatri later that morning reassured me of him just probably roaming around, as cats do. I can’t get Ganpati off my mind, at this point. Yet again, I went “Billu!” all around the neighborhood to an absolute lack of meows. I walk down to Rema skyview apartment complex and showed his photo to the security person there and left my number if they happen to spot him. Coming back with my usual sack of apples and bananas, I got down to work for a bit when I heard the caretaker cleaning outside. In my desperate attempt to know anything about Ganpati, I asked “Billi!?” to her, and she just rambled something in Kannada. I do not understand or speak the language.

I went up to the terrace and shouted “Billu!” yet again from above, again to a deafening silence when I noticed a couple of uncovered black water containers with the white letters spelling “SINTEX” kept at the corner of the construction site adjacent to my building. Hopelessly, I went down, on to the construction site, and took a peek in the first tank. My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach as I saw the lifeless body of Ganpati floating in there.

The next hour was a whirlwind of one of the deepest aspects of human experience — Misery. Holding Ganpati’s body in my hands hoping for him to come back to life is the hardest thing I’ve had to do, and I’ve had my fair share of hard things. I have a neurological condition called Common Tremors and as the name suggests, it’s not that serious except for my hands trembling in everyday situations. Miraculously, my hands did not tremble as I held on to Ganpati, it’s as if every single system in my body coordinated in that desperate hope to get him back to life.

Fate had cruel plans for the evening. I buried Ganpati in the nursery down the street with a dozen red button roses and a marigold garland around his neck. I left a letter in his grave promising him that I’d keep his memory a strong one. I had imagined a huge part of my life with him accompanying me. I guess that’s not happening. Fate made sure of that.

I know he has gone to a nice place, full of fluffy little cushions that he so liked to laze around on. He probably is lazing around on them. He doesn’t need the miserable little bowl anymore probably because he gets an endless supply of unprocessed cat food wherever he is. It is going to be a while before he and I get to catch up, as old friends reminiscing old times. Wherever he is, the best kitty ever, I hope he’s happier than he was with me, because I know he deserves that every bit. Especially after the tank incident! Oh boy, he does need to laze around, like a lot, judging by his standards of lazing around after exhaustion.

And to you, Ganpati, while I’m going to miss not seeing you for a long time, for whatever time I did get to see you, know that I will cherish it, until we meet again wherever that might be. I love you. Wherever you are, avoid going out in the dark maybe and chill more?

Down the memory lane