Desicritics Category: Culture: Women

Comic Strip: It's Not A Lie If It Makes Someone Happy

IdeaSmith — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 10:30:22 EDT

Well, what else is a woman to do?

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Relationship Lawlessness & Social Criminals

IdeaSmith — Fri, 6 Mar 2009 13:01:42 EST

I recently saw a movie about relationships and love. In one scene, a man and a woman meet in a department store and strike up a conversation over the cash register which continues till they walk out. Standing on the sidewalk, they talk, like any two strangers who've just met, of things that interest the other and ooh and aah over what they have in common. Then, just on the verge of that crucial 'ask for her number' moment, the guy shrugs and says,

I can't do this. I'm married.

It struck me right between my eyes just then. They were following a socially accepted ritual. Then they reached a point where an expression of interest had to be made or not. And it could not be made since he was clearly unavailable. The social mores dictated that he not go any further unless he was intending to take it forward seriously.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Last year I went to Europe on holiday. After enduring much ribbing about Turkish delights and Greek gods, I returned to report that no man had flirted with me. My mother, on the other hand, told me of one of our co-passengers who had struck up a conversation and told her she was beautiful, adding with a snide look at my dad that he couldn't say the same about her husband.

She was highly surprised (even though I spend all my time telling her that she looks at least a decade younger than she is - and she does!) till I added that in some western communities, it was considered polite, practically a social requirement to mock-flirt with a lady and compliment her on her fine form. This especially for a married woman, since it was quite clear that it was in light vein and was not intended to be taken seriously. Quite unlike India where it would be considered highly inappropriate to flirt or compliment a married woman.

On the other hand, my father pointed out, that it would be equally inappropriate for the same men to have flirted with me since I was clearly available. Flirting would have been an indication of serious intent, a formal expression of interest.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~We are still in a nascent society as far as dating goes. Our parents generation invented love marriages in this society; we are the generation that brings in friendship between the sexes as well as socially sanctioned romantic/sexual relationships before marriage. We haven't quite learned where to draw the line between friendship-comfort and attraction-commitment. We are still experimenting with how far we go with being funny/cool/charming and where it trespasses into flirtation.

Think about some of the relationship scenarios that are very real to us today. The 'best friend' of the opposite sex that makes the girlfriend/boyfriend so uncomfortable. The good friends (sister-brother...this is really the most convoluted one of all) who vehemently decree that other people have dirty minds. The older colleague/father of a friend/friend of father/husband of a friend who are really friendly, but perhaps a little too much sometimes?

Don't we all know a guy who promises the moon and earth to every second girl, believing correctly, that she'll keep it to herself because in the larger sense, it still isn't done for a girl to admit that she's been with a guy? There is nothing to check him from repeating the same over and over again, no one to brand him for the cad he is. Even after the crime is complete and guy is far away, possibly chasing a whole new set of girls or actually married, how many of the women he has wronged are actually going to speak up? And if you say you don't know such a guy, give me a call. I have a private 'Hall of Shame' of these social criminals.

How about the committed ones who pass off their behaviour as harmless friendliness? There's a general 'kehne mein kya harz hai?' syndrome working here. The problem is that people do fall in love, hearts get broken, trust is rended and lives are shattered. You can deny those are very real crimes, nasty things that people do to people.

As modern women, we are expected to be 'okay' with a certain degree of liberal expression. The question how far does that stretch? It's okay to know a lot of guys, it's fine to go out with them, even flirt with them, get into relationships with them. But all of that provided it ends in the institution of marriage or at least a 'stable, steady relationship'. But from meeting a guy to ending up in that last socially sanctioned comfortable relationship, it's a long way. Most men fall short far before that. Or I suspect a lot of them aren't even intending to go that far but try and drag out as much as they can get before they need to rat-tail it 'before it gets too serious'.

We stuff our best-looking side into our public persona and bury our insecurities. We put up with a guy who is 'commitment-phobic' for months and months because we don't want to be nags. We're okay with the 'just good friends' tag. We even tolerate cheating and tell ourselves patience is a virtue. What happens when he dumps you to go chase another girl and propose marriage to her in a week? You can be sure a crime of sorts has been committed but who's going to haul in the offender?

And if you're thinking this is equally true of women as well, I agree. With one small exception. Men who have been wronged in this manner can speak up about it and they do. Where else do we get such nasty phrases like slag and tease from? On the other hand, a woman who has been wronged cannot speak up. Liberated-ness be damned, one of those aforementioned crimes was perpetrated on me. I didn't dare speak up since I knew even our common friends would just think I was stupid for having believed such a guy in the first place. Well, you live, you learn.

Last month, I was flirted with by a committed man. I was unsure on when exactly I could draw the line and just relieved to get away without too much embarrassment. As I'm writing this post, I'm being propositioned by a married friend. This relationship is sometimes questioned by my friends who believe (quite correctly) that he is a social criminal. I agree and yet I continue to be friends (only in every sense of the word) with him. But few relationships are this manageable and heavenaloneknows that this one wasn't easy either.

Let me end this by just saying that delightful as this state may be with its glorious rule-lessness, the very lawlessness of it leaves each of us vulnerable to social crimes.

Material Girl

IdeaSmith — Sun, 1 Mar 2009 10:20:27 EST

I went diamond-shopping this weekend. Last year I received a corporate pat-on-the-back with a financial award. Someone suggested that I spend it on jewelery instead of frittering it away on clothes, books and shoes. It took me months but I finally agreed.

It's not even the first major purchase I made, even for jewellery. I saved up on my first job and bought my father a new cellphone and my mother, a diamond ring. That was a funny feeling. A memorable feeling, a funny one and one I'll treasure all my life - the exhilarating thrill that comes from being able to buy something for the people you love, who have provided for you all your life.

A few years later, I'm going big-purchase-shopping again. But it just is different. A different kind of different.

I think in my head, despite all the wondrous freedom of financial independence and mental release, my liberated-ness has a few gaps in it. Like little stitches still binding me to old ways of being, long after I've snipped away the life I want to wear.

Diamonds are usually received as gifts, not bought for oneself. Gifted by a man - a father, a brother, a lover, a husband. If diamonds are a girl's best friend, it's because those sparkly stones carry the monetary value that they were bought for, but also the power of being cherished and indulged by men.

Diamonds have been symbolic for years and they continue to be so. Only my diamonds don't list out the men who will lavish their affections on me. They remind me of everything that I've worked for and achieved. The power to buy a diamond as well as the right to wear one that is truly my own. It's just odd how long it took me to accept the feeling. Not feel guilty about lavishing it on myself, not feel obligated to spending it on someone else or something more important/intelligent, not wonder if brandishing my economic power made me seem like even more of a man-hating feminist than people usually accuse me of being. It took me a long time to accept that it was okay to buy a diamond for myself and feel good about it.

Newfound power doesn't come easy; it's scary.

Ram and Allah Will Stand United Against This

Vijay Sappani — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 06:59:49 EST

The Taleban in Pakistan and Afghanistan have been attacking girls and girls schools in a country where even the leader of a leading political party, Benazir Bhutto was a woman and was killed for it. Worse they do all these in the name of God. God said this, God said that, God did this, God did that, what ever.

I have spent nearly half my life volunteering on education projects and lot of it with girl child development and every time I read a news piece like this, it really hurts. The literacy rate of girls in Pakistan is said to be around 12% and with the current situation it will only get worse in rural and border areas of Pakistan where Taleban and other militant group operate. If this continues to happen,Pakistan as a society will crumble with increasing inequalities between men and women , urban and rural divide. Women in Pakistan have so far enjoyed among the best status in Islamic nations and a lot of it has to do with its education system. the Taleban are not just attacking women, but the very chord that has made Pakistan a nation of relative strength in the Islamic world. These monsters need to be stopped and the hope for it lies more in the hands of the people than in the hands of corrupt politicians. The lawyers strike is a great example of a people's movement that brought change and Pakistan need another grass root movement to keep their girls in school, so that another Benazir Bhutto can come.

Now these jerks are not alone. On the other side of the border, a bunch of jerks trying to get attention(and are rightfully doing it so) attacked women in a bar in Mangalore, India. A never heard of group calling itself Ram Sena attacked women in a bar because they think it affects India's moral and cultural values. The politicians want to write this off as an odd one off incident, but the media and public did not do so. New wealth has lead to new ways for the youth to spend their money and more demand for entertainment for young people. Nearly half of India's booming IT, telecom, call centre's employees are women, giving them a new found source of financial freedom. India's economy continues to boom attracting new investors trying to win a share of the lucrative entertainment market leading to big events on valentines, friendship day, New years eve etc that has become an attractive target for right wing Hindu radicals. These kind of attacks were unheard of a decade back, bu then these kind of celebrations were barely known either. What is most ridiculous is that these monsters do it in the name of God.

Different countries, different religions, different ideologies, different intensity, but the same issue. These monsters use the name of God to justify their inferiority complex and attack women who want to be free and liberated and rightfully do so, whether that be go to a school to read or to a bar to enjoy.

Sweeping these issues under the carpet is not the solution, standing up to these jerks and forcing the politicians to crush these monsters is what we need to do and I hope will be done so.

poetry: Coward, Coward, Burning Bright

temporal — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 10:17:17 EST

sorry dee, (and sorry W B)

Coward, coward, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame taliban symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of your idiocies?
On what wings dare you aspire?
What delusions dare seize the fire?

And what twisted and crazy thought
Could screw the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy loins began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the sickle? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the saints make thee?

Chuddi, chuddi, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame taliban symmetry?

India's Post-Independence Fight For Freedom

Aditi Nadkarni — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 00:55:37 EST

Let me cut right to the chase here. This is unacceptable. Let me say it again for emphasis. It is not just bothersome or even upsetting. It is unacceptable. In the 21st century, in a democratic, secular nation, what has been going on, festering like a recurrent lesion, sprouting in every part of India, is just, simply unacceptable and will not do.

In case you are wondering who it is that's going to stand up to it: we are. We will not allow our freedom to be violated and we will make sure we protect the independence we fought long and hard to get the first time around. We have come a long way. We have seen the change and been the change. So who better than our pioneering, hot-blooded breed to stand up to the revolting and shockingly regressive acts of a few who feel threatened by progress.

They are just acting out of fear. It is obvious, isn't it? They attack in packs, afraid to be the lone ones incriminated. They target women and assault safely from behind the vague curtains of culture. But we all know that it isn't their culture that is in grave danger. Their position, their power and the extent of their bullying is in great peril. The places where they once ruled the roost are now turning into big, bustling cities making them feel like small, insignificant fish in a big sea.

Institutions and companies have transported the educated, smart crowd into the vacuum in which these bullies once enjoyed unfettered omnipotence. Now, in place of the void, there is a young, vivacious bunch of professionals, men and women who work hard and party hard and do so shoulder to shoulder. These people are harder to manipulate. This crowd has not just taken over, they threaten to pull into their growing ilk, the younger ones too. Business are bending over backwards to accommodate the needs of this new species and everything that once belonged to the bullies is now up for grabs. So they are retaliating. They are like petulant little children who couldn't have all that they demanded, hated sharing and so now are acting up. Therefore it is up to us, the educated class to teach these spoiled little brats to grow up and stop reacting so bizarrely to change. We must do it in a manner that is as different from theirs as is humanly possible.

So now comes the big question: how do we do it? How do we make our presence known? The answer may seem too simplistic because it sits smack in front of our faces. Think about it: we travel through these cities like one stream of blood, flowing steadily, keeping the city alive, stuffed in trains, piled into buses, walking along the teeming streets. Even partying and a trip to the movie theater is all the more fun with a group. We work in teams and are all the more effective for that. We discuss films, fashion, clothes, the economy, the job market and even our health problems. Yet this fear of walking out on the streets of a free country seems like a personal problem, like we were alone in that walk, like when a bully arrived with his little gang and punched us in the face, we would be all by ourselves and the world around us would just suddenly go blind. What we forget is that in this lonely fear too, we are still together. In this anger against the unfairness of the situation, we are together. We can if we decided, be together in the one resolute determination of not letting a handful of insecure men undo all that we have put into making our cities. So the answer is simple. Whatever it is we do, we do it together.

We celebrated Valentine's Day battling fear and took the threats in our stride defanging the demons with the pink disarming humor of our proud underwear. With the International Women's Day approaching, it is time to get serious. In our busy, routine lives we have underestimated the power of silent, non-violent protests. All it takes is for people to stand at a side-walk with banners to get word around. Some major struggles were won with this strategy and somewhere along the line we just shrugged and rolled our eyes at the quiet potential of public demonstrations and satyagrahas. Maybe we started taking our precious freedom for granted and needed to be reminded that we simply cannot. We have to earn it and when someone tries to snatch it, we fight for it.

It is important, I feel, in today's world to use media smartly. Instead of constantly criticizing media's inadequacies, we could use it as a tool. Find a niche and throw yourself into the swift current of this ever growing medium. Find a female leader in your area who is looking to make an arrival on the political scene. Do a little research. If one political party is making your life difficult for wearing jeans and celebrating Valentine's Day and there damn well must be another party that will fight for your votes, or can be persuaded to do so.

Find a celebrity who is willing to make your cause their own or give your movement their support and voice. Find a television network, a newspaper or a magazine that will run your story and provide your opinions with a voice. Find an artist who will put your thoughts into a slogan or a creative, riveting poster. Write to your city officials, your ministers and drown their offices in letters of your indignant protest. Just remember that one or two voices are easy to be ignored. If you are fuming over a coffee mug at your kitchen table, take that rage to a medium that will express it in the most noticeable manner possible.

Haven't we whined about a dysfunctional system for too long? When has this "system" ever worked? Maybe we just don't realize that we are one of the appendages of this faulty system. If the system is not working, we, as a group could propel in into motion. What will it take for us to get off our bums and make a placard with a strong message on it? This is not a women's liberation movement at all. Genders cannot be fighting alone in a battle such as this one. It could be your sister wearing jeans, coming home from work. It could be your teenage daughter walking back from school or college, the neighborhood aunty who brought you food when you were sick, a dear friend or your colleague. Most importantly, it is them today and it could be you next.

Let us review what the odds are of your being targeted next. You have a very high chance of being next on the hit-list if you answer 'Yes' for any of the following questions. Are you considered an "outsider" in Bangalore or a non-Maharashtrian in Maharashtra? Do you party? Do you meet up with friends at pubs? Do you wear jeans or clothing that may not be considered "Indian"? Do you eat pizza or meat? Do you drink alcoholic beverages? Does your religious persuasion always match that of the political party currently raging a mini-war in the nation you know of as secular? Do you send children to convent or English medium schools? Do you have a spouse of a different religious persuasion than yours? Do you have friends of the opposite sex? Are you married to the girl you are driving home from work or who you happen to be having dinner with? Are you non-conversant in Marathi in Mumbai or in Kannada in Bangalore? Are you a blogger or a journalist who expresses their opinions about politics, culture, media and religion? In spite of your qualifications and the six figure salary, do you have no clout with the local law enforcement or political activists? Before you fall asleep at night you should take a moment to wonder which one of these labels will be tagged onto your identity and turned into a vice or a disqualification; which one of these labels will plant nagging fear into your routine as you go about working to make a living, partying to rid your stress and walking on the streets of a country whose freedom you celebrate once a year on a public holiday. India did fight a freedom struggle years ago and it is high time that yet another quest for independence begins.

As a civilized society, we must remember that curbed freedom is a disease, an epidemic that does not spare a gender or a certain religion. It has uprooted saplings of modern, free thinking from Afghanistan and left it barren under the regime of the Taliban school of thought. This disease feeds on your fear and on the social inertia that has settled over our generation. An active, proud and independent public cannot let this inertia set in. Let it be known that this disease feeds most of all on the little disabling voice in your head which tells you that this is not your struggle, that it isn't your battle to fight. Sadly, this malady spreads, swallowing in its wake our hard-earned progress, until the feeble voice in your head is one day replaced with the grim realization that your own struggle has arrived. The assailant and his prejudice have changed form and you are the next prey. And there is nobody left to fight for you or with you.

Women Assaulted In Bangalore For Wearing Jeans

Deepti Lamba — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 08:40:01 EST

Miscreants are targeting women in jeans in Bangalore. Hard to believe, isn't it?
The women were hounded, assaulted and threatened for being in 'Western attire'. What is happening in Bangalore? After being perceptually on my guard in Delhi- a city best known for its crimes against women I find Bangalore too heading down the same dangerous route.

A few weeks ago a group of women and men had been badly injured by a group of thugs at a pub and the night shift police allegedly tried to hush the matter up. The incident made news and then the matter easily slipped the mind of laidback Bangaloreans.

But the bully is still out there trying its best to subjugate the Bangalore spirit of -live and let live.

Is it time we civilians began to bear arms? The gun culture has never been part of the urban Indian society but more and more people are now wondering how they can best protect themselves against these miscreants.

Those against the gun culture are quick to say that more accidents and crimes of passion are caused by gun possession than actual self defense but I ask how do we protect ourselves when these thugs ambush us and even if they are caught the law enforcement watches from the sidelines and worse still turns on us?

Two out of the three victims of these hate crimes have registered complaints against the men who assaulted them. The police should take caricatures of the thugs out in public, our chief minister (highly unlikely) should offer harsh condemnation of the acts and we women should have some form of protest put up as quickly as possible against this sort of bullying by impotent thugs.

Here are a couple of safety tips that women should follow:
• Do not roll down your car window even if someone asks for direction.
• Always keep your car doors locked.
• Always keep your cell phone charged.
• If you are being chased while in a car try to remain in a crowded area and keep a look out for police.
• Avoid lonely roads and parking lots, listen to your instincts.
• If someone grabs you scream your head off
• Try getting a pepper spray
• Learn basic self defense techniques
• Always be aggressive. Bullies generally lay off bullies. A vulnerable looking woman is an easy prey.

These thugs are obviously individuals who have taken inspiration from the Mangalore goings-on. This has nothing to do with religion but a nasty chauvinistic mind set that is intimidated by emancipated women. This is not the time to give in to cynicism or indifference. We have to voice our protest.

The power of public outrage is the best defense against hooliganism. Speak up and be heard!

MTV Roadies: Bloodshed In Gandhinagar

Deepti Lamba — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 14:09:17 EST

There was bloodshed in Gandhinagar! Raghu and Rajiv brought their evil vibes to the latest episode of Roadies and the Brats were decimated not by the hands of the brothers but by womanly wiles and manly delusions.

In the immunity task, Bobby was bullied into stepping into the coffin whereas Dev volunteered to step in for the 'benefit' of his team. The person that was left behind the coffin basically was out of the game and hare-brained Dev got his ass kicked out by an enraged Raghu. And before Raghu too left he bestowed upon the injured cry baby Bobby the right to grant immunity to two people.

Thanks to Dev's foolishness, Om Blues were safe but the Brats lay open to be voted out except for Bobby. As always they wanted to vote Suzanna out but then Bobby felt it might seem that they are picking on her and suggested Natasha's name and Sandeep protected Natasha saying she was his friend whereas Suzanna wasn't all that friendly towards him.

So in a group of pretty women like Roop, Bobby, Natasha and Suzanna megalomaniac Sandeep was irked that one woman was impervious to his boyish charms and wanted her out!

Suzanna knowing her pretty ass was being cooked by the narcissistic team mates sought the help of Samrat who told her to have a word with Tamanna and rest of the Om Blues team.

There had already been bad blood between Kiri and his ex-Brat mates, he couldn't stand the sight of Roop who he considered to be manipulative and Tamana hated Pradeep and Sandeep's guts for causing Nauman's departure.

The goose was cooked that night but it wasn't Suzy's but Roop's. Roop knew Om Blues would turn against her but she hadn't expected Natasha to vote against her as well.

Bobby cried tears of blood for granting immunity to her male buddies and not saving Roop but she hadn't expected Natasha to turn. Indian soap opera at its best!

The sense of betrayal was strong and there was a massive cat fight between the Brats' women (except for close to tears soft spoken Suzanna) where they called Natasha characterless and a conniving woman hiding behind an innocent face but what I saw at work wasn't some animosity due to personality clash between head strong beautiful women.

There was power struggle over the 'boys' between Natasha and Roop. Kiri had already said that Roop held the reins over the boys and that probably irked Natasha. Her response that Roop had to go sometime or the other didn't hold much water. There can only be one queen bee in the hive. Roop wanted Suzanna out since she was prettier and kind of snooty but didn't expect Natasha had a thing against her's and Bobby's bossy behavior. Natasha had kept her dislike well under wraps until the time was right.

A visibly upset Suzanna stood next to Natasha and the divisions between the group had become clear. Sandeep acted like a betrayed Lothario, Pradeep shook his head and Bobby continued to cry crocodile tears. Two against three but luckily for them in the next episode there aren't going to be any more gangs, every Roadie is going to be alone once again.

Next week's episode has some actual mud wrestling matches and get this there are babes lying on the field in shorts accusing each other of trying to pull each other's shirts up.

Yeah, maintaining one's dignity has never been a wannabe Roadie's forte;)

And the visas did come through. Some lucky Roadies (not all) will get to cry some outback croc tears in Australia.

POGO, Kellogg's Special K, and Body Image Issues

Deepti Lamba — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 14:11:46 EST

Yesterday just as we sat down at Coffee Day my seven year old eyed me and told me with twinkling eyes "Ma, You are fat." I gasped for breath. I asked him where he had heard about fat. He shook his head and gave me his usual - Don't know and dug into his Black Forest Cake.

I wasn't about to give him an explanation about fitting into a size 12 jeans after 4 months of rigorous work outs or that giving birth to him, his sister and taking care of them had made me 'fat'. I wasn't going down the defensive mode with a 7 year old child.

I was more interested in knowing where he had come across the concept of body image. And it didn't take me long. Today while the kids watched toons on POGO the Special K ad rolled in. And before my horrified eyes I heard a small girl talking about her mom looking like Aishwarya Rai and her mom laughed and said she had lost two kilos by being on Special K. The little angel ranted about her mom looking the prettiest in the school and my mouth hung open.

What kind of shit was this? I looked at my son and then back at the TV. It was bad enough that cable channels were feeding shit to our kids about junk food but now we had cereals sneaking in body image neurosis to our underage children.

Where is the protest from parents about these sorts of ads? Maybe its time Kellogg's was taken to court for propagating unhealthy habits to our kids. Can you imagine a kid asking just for sugary cereals for 2 meals to be skinny?

Anyone who has tasted Special K would tell you that its like sugary wood shavings. And to be on a cereal diet is the worst thing one can do to their body. Eating right and exercising is the best way to leading a healthy life.

Once the ad finished I spoke to my son and told him that not everything that is seen on TV is the truth. And that having a fat or skinny mother doesn't make the child happy, what makes a child happy is having a mommy who loves him.

And that if I ever heard him say those words to anyone I would personally come and teach him the meaning of respect.

He looked at me with big saucer eyes and asked 'Why?"

I replied that it was the meanest and most hurtful thing to say and he wasn't a mean boy.

His mind switched gears when he realized his mother was done lecturing and asked if he could go out and play. I nodded absentmindedly, still upset about the kind of bogeymen we were letting into our homes via kiddie channels.

Kensei, The Dirty Cat

Deepti Lamba — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 13:23:27 EST

If you talk to any breeder they will tell you the same thing - Never pick up an animal from a pet shop. You never know what kind of disease they may be carrying.

Well, we picked up Kensei from a pet shop; better still we rescued a sick 4 month old kitten knowing he was sick. He was an affectionate little mutt and snuggled up easy in the crook of the arm but was a bag of bones. Our hearts became puddle and we took him home.

We nearly lost him. The poor guy had a weak constitution. He couldn't keep anything down. His litter tray was changed every hour and in the end even though Zoey out of pity accepted him he was isolated in another room with his litter tray.

The image of him unable to get up from his dirty litter tray is still engraved in my mind. We managed to pull him away from death.

But Kensei's constitution, however, never recovered. Any deviation from his meal and it would be stink time all over again.

On 14th of February early morning I heard the newspaper on which the litter was laid ruffle. Zoey was sleeping next to me and I knew Kensei was up to no good.

The sound of paper cackling went on for over five minutes. I groaned and buried my head in the pillow. I knew what had happened. He was trying to bury the crime but couldn't. The floor did not have litter on it! He had missed the litter tray again.

I walked out screaming- Kensei, you naughty cat! Its such a big tray! How can you miss it?

He stood still in his tray with one paw raised. He meowed as if to say- Good morning mama and I was too mad to think- oh, you look so handsome despite the crap you have left again for me.

And, yes, he had pooped right between the two litter trays!

He hopped off the tray, rubbed himself against my legs asking to be picked up and cuddled and I imagined kicking the cat to Timbuktu!

Zoey came out of the bedroom meowing her good morning and headed straight for the litter and I thought -oh! there will be two poops to pick up.

I grabbed the cats and locked them in the backyard. They both gave an indignant meow! Out without food!

I grabbed newspapers, Lysol, Dettol, face mask, hand gloves, a bucket, coconut broom, yanked up my nightwear and got to work.

It took me over forty five minutes to clean his mess, get fresh litter and scrub my hands clean in piping hot water.

I then let the cats in to eat. Ten minutes later I could hear the crackle of the paper again. And I groaned. I screamed- Kensei!!

The paper crackled louder, more rigorous. I hit my head against the couch. The crackling stopped, he sauntered into the living room, jumped up on the couch and snuggled up against me.

I told him he was lucky I didn't kick him to Timbuktu, lucky I preferred to clean up after him and not send him back to the damn pet shop and he sure was lucky that I saved his life.

He meowed, turned on his back, showed me his belly and went to sleep and I wondered if I would yet again have to clean his litter tray.