TOW The Black Cat....

Hello there!
Awkward time for me to write in, it is. No, it wouldn't seem any out of the ordinary to you, would it? Well, it is to me, for you see, in half an hour over eight, I shall have to write an exam, and that too one of the worst I'd ever have to. My preparation is vastly incomplete and in place of reading more about Memory Organisation in ancient computers, I choose to share with you my memories.

What I arise from the dead to tell you about is a tale so frightening and eerie that your bones are likely shiver-me-timbers. I arise from the dead to tell you a tale that is sure to make your eyes grow so wide with fear, that your contact lenses would fall out by themselves. I arise from the dead to tell you a tale that, if nothing else, is likely to compel you to say, "Hehe!"

You see, many of us so-called modern fools pride ourselves in that we do not believe in superstitions. You fear not walking from underneath a ladder on the wall, lest it should fall upon you. What more, you stand there for a moment and do a little jig. To prove that a cat doesn't have nine lives, you drown your own in a your bathtub and say "See? I told you so!"

But you see, there exist some forces in nature that fall beyond our own control and you simply cannot explain. You cannot say why it happens, and you cannot say how. But it does.... and leaves you questioning.... "Is there someone out there?"
Okay, well, no. This isn't a UFO encounter. All the characters involved in this story, human or inhuman, were purely grounded on earth and belonged to it. No one questions their presence here amongst us. Their presence at the scene of the, well, occurrence was purely co-incidental.

Moving beyond the disclaimers, let me tell you why exactly we believe in superstitions. It isn't because our ancestors took the initiative of propagating them through so many generations. No, we were not manipulated into believing them by Influential writers and personalities of our times such as One Ms. Enid Blyton. Our belief takes its roots from hard-core occurrences, as real as the soil beneath our feat (and if you're on concrete, then the soil beneath that.)

It happened so. I was casually cycling back to the comfort of my bed (that is obtained once it has been cleared of books, notes, bags and arbitrary sharp articles that would otherwise re-direct you to the comfort of the hospital bed.) when I was interrupted on the way by one Nab~n N~g. The truth lies in the fact that possessing a bi-cycle on a No-Vehicle campus is super-cool! Everybody wants a taste of it! Being the kind and generous soul you are, you're willing to let them have a go at it (and stifling your laughter when you take it away from them) but Lo and Behold, one would have to be logically incapacitated to give away their vehicle en-route to home and walk all the way back.
Thus I stood, face to face avec une Nab~n N~g who insisted upon leasing my bicycle for the remainder of the journey while I, the possessor and prosecutor, lugged my heavy bag all the way on foot. We argued, I refused, we argued some more. Spectators stood all around, laughing, cheering and offering to take the bi-cycle off our hands for us. Ha!

As we stood there, laughing, cheering and offering to take the bicycle off other people's hands, as I told you, Nab~n N~g happened to chance his eye upon one lonely soul who happen to pass on the sidewalk. She did not stop to look upon us and my bicycle, claiming stake upon it for the next 20 minutes or so. She didn't even bother to stop and opine. Cats usually don't, by norm. Nonetheless, she did divert from her linear trajectory and proceed to cut right through my path.

Anyone with the least bit of awareness would know that a Black Cat crossing your path is said to bring bad luck. Nab~n knew and proceeded to cheer it on.
It crossed my path.
Nab~n withdrew his claim and invited me to continue on my way, through the tainted path.
Was I to stand there and let him have his laugh? Certainly not. For you see, I too was a lost wandering soul who refused to believe in superstitions. How foolish I was!

What is the first thing a person who doesn't believe in ghosts would utter when confronted by one? Well, most obviously, "I don't believe in You!"
Which is exactly what I did. Well ofcourse I don't Not-Believe in the existence of Black Cat themselves but I do Not-Believe in their attributed qualities of causing utter mayhem in the lives of those whose path they cross.
Thus I proceeded to, with full vigour and strength, scream at that conniving cat, "I DON'T BELIEVE IN YOU!" Not once but twice, thrice, maybe even four times! I don't recall how many exactly, since I was all steamed up.

Having declared my disbelief, I returned my attention to the company I was in, only to discover that round-about everyone was rolling in laughter. Before I could've prided myself in having caused it, I paused and wondered as to what was so amusing in it all. Knowing that the entire lot wasn't a group of delinquents, I proceeded to inquire on the same.

As it turned out, black cats aren't that lucky at all.
You see, as I stood their proudly screaming at the cat that I didn't believe in it, their happened to cross OUR path (the one connecting the blessed cat and me.... No wait. Strike that out. ... cat and blessed me..) 2 unsuspecting girls; Unsuspecting of the fact that my character had been questioned by the Crossing Of A Cat. Naturally, they took it upon themselves to accept my comment as directed at them, and responded not with a sweet smile and a wave but a frown of an extreme degree and a scowl, falling short (phew!) of a smack.

It isn't just to blame them, of course, for not seeing things from my point of view, in which they weren't present at all. In the stadium had been merely me and the blesse.... No, wait, blessed me and the cat.
Unfortunately, in the point of view of pretty much everyone else, there had existed me, the blessed cat.. oh Argh!.. and the 2 random strangers.

Since it is uncommon for people to scream at stranger cats (and at times, familiar ones) as they pass on the street, naturally my comment would be interpreted as directed at those two lonely girls. Reasonable as I am, even I can relate to the feeling of disgust and humiliation at being told that those around me do not believe in me. As if I don't exist or whatever!

Thus, my faith in superstitions was restored and resurrected and shall last forever more, or until this incident is forgotten from my mind, whichever comes sooner.

Thus remember the next time you stand beneath a ladder propped against a wall, and do a little jig. A bird seated on its rung might defecate on you. The next time a black cat crosses your path, look right, left and centre before screaming at it that you don't believe in it. Rather, play it safer and don't scream at all. Send it a telegram (or a howler!)

Superstitions are true, my friend(s). They're here to stay!